The Disappearance of Sloane Sullivan, page 15
His gave me a sheepish grin.
“But that’s just who you are,” I continued. “You’re exuberant. It’s like you can’t keep it all inside yourself. You’re a great guy, Sawyer. I just don’t want to date anyone right now.”
After another few moments of silence, he said, “What about prom? That’s just one dance. We don’t even have to call it a date.”
I threatened him with two fistfuls of sand.
Sawyer held up his hands and grinned. “I’m kidding.”
I reached into my pocket and pulled out the slip of paper. “Here.” I handed it to Sawyer.
“What’s this?”
“This is me showing you that I think you’re a good guy.” I waited for him to unfold the paper. “That’s Kylie’s phone number. I stopped by the diner before I came here.”
He raised his eyebrows at me.
“I apologized to her for leaving so suddenly last night and told her how much you’ve been talking about her ever since. She said she was bummed you didn’t ask for her number yesterday. And her next door neighbor owns the diner and tells her overprotective parents everything she does there. That’s why she was acting all nervous and making up boyfriends. I wouldn’t be trying to set you up with someone if I thought you weren’t worth getting to know.”
Sawyer stared at the paper, a slight blush on his cheeks. “Thanks, Sloane.” He pulled out his phone and programmed Kylie’s number in. Before he could put it back in his pocket, his text notification, which sounded like a train whistle, went off. “Good news!” he exclaimed after reading for a second. “My cousin said they found Miranda yesterday.”
“The missing girl? That’s great. Where was she?”
“She woke up in some woods about a mile from the house where the party was.”
I frowned. “Was she okay?”
Sawyer scrolled down and read for what seemed like forever. “Yeah, sort of. Her parents took her to the hospital because she couldn’t remember anything, not even leaving the party. She had some drugs in her system. They think someone must’ve slipped something into her drink.”
I remembered the red cup she was holding in the picture.
“Whatever it was seriously knocked her out. Other than that, she was fine. No injuries or evidence of sexual assault or anything, thank God.” Sawyer shook his head. “It’s weird. She woke up by some berry bush and had red juice dried in her hair and on her clothes. She was pretty freaked out it was blood at first.”
I shuddered. “I’m never going to drink anything at a party again.”
“Yeah.”
“You know who you should tell the good news to?” I nodded at the piece of paper still crumpled in Sawyer’s hand.
“Kylie was pretty cute, wasn’t she?”
“She’s totally cute. And totally into you. You should call her.”
He studied his phone for a moment, then nodded. “She’s at the diner now? I was on my way to help look for Miranda but since that’s no longer necessary, maybe I’ll go talk to Kylie in person.” He stood.
“Sawyer?”
“Yeah?”
“Maybe take her out a few times before you ask her to prom or try to kiss her. You know, build up to the touchy-feeliness.”
Sawyer chuckled. “Got it. Thanks, Sloane. You’re really great, you know that?”
“Save the sweet talk for Kylie.”
He saluted and walked back toward his car.
I turned back to the ocean. I hadn’t expected to see Sawyer until school on Monday, but it felt good to have this over with. “Phase two accomplished,” I told the waves. “Nothing like a little ego boost. Should be smooth sailing from here on out.”
Sixteen
I was officially exhausted. I’d gotten up early for the senior trip bus ride to Charleston, toured a bunch of historic homes, visited Fort Sumter, shopped the stalls in City Market and had dinner in an awesome restaurant. My legs ached, my eyes were itchy and I really wished I could take out my contacts. “I don’t want to do anything except watch some mindless movie, eat this chocolate we bought today and pray my legs hold up for the city walking tour tomorrow,” I said.
Livie appeared around the corner of the small hallway that led to both the bathroom and the door of our hotel room. Her brown hair had more waves than usual and her brown eyes looked striking surrounded by glittery gold eyeshadow. She was wearing the deep red lace tank top she’d bought earlier that day and jeans so tight I wasn’t sure she’d be able to sit down.
I examined my own outfit: blue plaid flannel pants and a navy camisole. “Wow, Liv. Your pj’s are fancy.”
Livie rolled her eyes. “I’m going to Oliver’s room. He’s kicking his roommate out.”
That explains the tight pants. I knew Livie and Oliver had gone out once or twice the past few weeks, but I hadn’t realized things had moved so quickly. He’d been pretty quiet whenever I brought Livie up.
“How do I look?” she asked.
“Great,” I said. “I like your new shirt.”
Livie smiled. “Thanks. I like the one you got too. It’s about time you owned something other than cotton and denim.”
I glanced at the top by my duffel bag. It was pale lavender satin with sequins and spaghetti straps. It was the only fancy thing I’d owned since the sundress I’d worn for Duke. The sundress I’d burned the day after I left him. “Yeah, all I need is someplace to wear it.”
“I can ask Oliver if he has any lonely friends...”
“I don’t want some random trip hookup, Livie.” I quickly changed the subject. “How are you going to get around the bed check?”
Livie batted her eyelashes at me. “That’s where you come in.”
I didn’t think that suggestion to visit Oliver’s friends was real.
“Mr. Pruitt should be coming soon. I was hoping you could turn on the shower and tell him I’m in there? I’ll owe you one.”
I sighed. Everything had been going well the last three weeks since Sawyer apologized at the beach: he genuinely seemed to be into Kylie; I’d hung out with Jason and Oliver a few times, although I’d also said no to a couple of invitations so I could have some extra Mark time; and I was so close to making my final college choice, which was good since the deposits were due in a few days. I didn’t want to do anything to jinx it, lying to a teacher included. But I found myself saying, “Yeah, sure. Just don’t forget your key. I really don’t want to have to get off this bed to let you back in.”
Livie clapped. “Thanks!” She turned to go.
“Hey,” I said, stopping her. “Are you sure about this? Going to Oliver’s room, I mean?”
“It’s Oliver. Of course I’m sure.” And with that, she was gone.
I’m so glad she’s not with Jason anymore. And if things don’t work out between her and Oliver, I’m slightly worried for Oliver, I thought as I forced myself to get off the bed and turn on the shower.
When Mr. Pruitt knocked on the door five minutes later, wisps of steam were curling out from under the bathroom door. “Hello, Sloane.” He gazed at the clipboard in his hands. “You’re rooming with Liv Dawson, correct?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Where is she?”
I pointed to the closed bathroom door. “Shower.” The fewer untruthful words, the better.
Mr. Pruitt eyed the steam and light leaking out from under the bathroom door. “Okay. You girls have a nice night. And don’t forget—we’re meeting in the lobby at eight for breakfast.”
“We’ll be there!” I called as I shut the door. I waited until Mr. Pruitt knocked on the door to the next room, then shut off the shower. After turning off all the lights except the tiny lamp on my bedside table—I figured Livie would need something to see by when she came back—I climbed into bed. But the more I flipped through the TV channels in search of a movie to watch, the more my eyes bothered me.
I examined the dimly lit room. Livie was gone and would probably be so tired whenever she came back that I would have to drag her out of bed to make it to breakfast on time. All I had to do was get up early and put my contacts back in before Livie woke up. I decided a decent night’s sleep was worth the risk and dug my contact lens case out of its hiding place in my bag. When I returned to bed contact-free, I felt so much better. I popped a piece of chocolate into my mouth and settled on an action movie with lots of gun fights. A few minutes later, I was fast asleep.
Dad ruffled my hair as he crossed to the front of the car. “I’m glad we get to spend the day together, kiddo.”
I hurried to catch up to him on the sidewalk, sucking in a ragged breath. It had rained earlier, but the air was still muggy and stale. “Yeah, but when does the fun stuff start?”
“What? Watching me get my hair cut wasn’t fun?”
“Um, no. Fun is the burgers and shakes and mini golf you promised me. I bet Jase I could get a hole in one!”
Dad chuckled. “I hope he didn’t take that bet. You’re the hole-in-one queen.”
I grinned up at him.
“You can cream me in mini golf after we drop this off.” He shook the padded envelope in his hand.
I rolled my eyes. When he came into my room that morning and said, “Mom’s working. Want to have a fun day with me?” I hadn’t expected it to start with so many errands.
As we rounded the corner of the warehouse, I trailed my fingers along the rough brick wall, darker in spots from the rain. Then Dad’s arm flew out to the side, stopping me in my tracks. He silently shifted in front of me and I peered around him to see what was going on.
Two men stood with their backs to us. The taller of the two, whose short brown hair was peeking out of a blue baseball cap, stared down at the ground and said something I couldn’t hear. That’s when I noticed the older man slumped against the warehouse at their feet. His blond curly hair was matted with blood and his face was swollen and bruised. I’d never seen anyone so beat up before.
The older man’s mouth moved with difficulty as he said something.
“Shut up!” the shorter standing man yelled. He tugged up his bright orange polo shirt, pulled a gun from the waistband of his shorts, and pointed it at the man on the ground.
I gasped, my heart pounding so hard in my chest I thought it would explode. Dad shoved me behind a tall stack of wooden crates leaning against the edge of the warehouse, and we both crouched low to the ground.
“Shh.”
The whispered hush sounded loud in the cramped space. My knees scraped against rough broken pieces of crating as I covered my nose and mouth with my hands. I was breathing too loud and too fast. I had to be quiet.
Dad’s wide back, covered in his favorite black Bruce Springsteen concert shirt, blocked my front and something sharp and jagged from one of the crates was poking my back. I knew Dad was trying to protect me, to hide me from whatever was happening with those men, but I couldn’t stop myself. I needed to see what was going on. Even though it was nearly impossible, I tried to move. Dad reached back. His hand clamped down on my arm and it hurt. There was no way I was going to be able to move now. So I turned my head and peered through the slats in a crate.
Polo Shirt, the shorter of the two guys, still had his gun pointed at the man on the ground, but now his hand was shaking.
“Please!” the man on the ground cried in a surprisingly high-pitched voice. He tried to sit up a little and winced, a crazed almost smile-like expression crossing his face. “Please don’t do this!”
Polo Shirt dropped his gun to his side and his shoulders slumped forward. There was a sudden blur of movement.
Pop! Pop, pop!
The explosions were so loud, so close, that my hands flew to my ears. Dad spun around in the tiny space. His nose was practically touching mine and his eyes were wild with fear. He whispered a single word: “Run.”
I took off after him, one foot slipping on a broken piece of wood on the ground. It skittered into the stack of crates with a thunk.
A prickly sensation crept up my neck at the feeling of eyes on my back as I ran.
“Hey!”
Dad’s grip on my arm tightened as he pulled me forward, but I instinctively peeked over my shoulder at the surprised shout. The taller guy with the baseball cap was pointing a gun at the head of the now unmoving man on the ground. But Polo Shirt, whose gun still hung limply at his side, was looking straight at me. Our eyes locked and several emotions flickered in quick succession over his face: fear, then anger, then recognition.
I bolted upright in bed with a gasp. A trickle of sweat ran down my back.
Boom, boom, boom.
My gaze fell on a TV I didn’t recognize. I switched it off with the remote by my hand, eager to stop the booming sound so I could think for a minute.
Boom, boom. “Sloane! Livie!”
I glanced around, trying to figure out where I was and why I could hear Jason’s voice, and spotted my duffel bag. It clicked into place: the senior trip, my hotel room and the interior door that connected my room to Jason and Sawyer’s room.
“Are you guys okay?” Jason yelled. A second later, still too loudly, he said, “It’s fine, Sawyer. I’ve got it.”
The illuminated clock on the bedside table read 1:02 a.m. I groaned. If Jason didn’t stop yelling he’d wake up the whole hotel. I forced myself out of bed, fumbled with the lock, and finally managed to get the door open. As soon as I turned the knob, Jason pushed his way in.
He grabbed my shoulders with both hands. “Are you okay?” The interior door clicked closed behind him.
“Yeah,” I croaked. “Why?”
He saw Livie’s empty bed and flew around the corner to the bathroom, flicking the light on even though obviously no one was in there, then off again. “Where’s Liv?”
I pushed the heels of my hands into my eyes. Things had been tense between Jason and Livie lately and I couldn’t deal with their crap right now. “She went to hang out in...another room.”
Jason made a disgusted face that said, That didn’t take long, then the concern returned. He ran a hand through his black hair, making it stick up even more than it already was. “So it was you screaming?”
“Screaming?”
“Someone was in here yelling, ‘Run!’ or ‘Gun!’ or something like that over and over.”
Oh no. I swallowed hard. “I had a nightmare.”
And it was a nightmare. Now I understood why Mark never wanted me to remember. Because I knew the guy in the orange polo shirt, the one who’d recognized me. His name was Lorenzo Rosetti.
“Hey, Dante, wait up!” I rushed down the hall and caught up with him just outside the cafeteria doors. “Why didn’t you wait for me? We always walk together when parent pickups are called.”
Dante shuffled his feet and eyed the stream of kids going into the cafeteria to be driven home by their parents. “Lorenzo’s picking me up,” he mumbled.
I took a step back. “Oh.” Seeing Dante’s brother always made my stomach drop.
Billy Burke, from one of the other fifth grade classes, passed us. “Hi, Dante!”
“Don’t talk to him,” hissed the boy next to Billy. “Don’t you know who that is? He’s Dante Rosetti. My older brother told me his dad, Angelo, is like the boss of a mob family. He said his dad kills people.”
Billy peeked at us over his shoulder as he entered the cafeteria.
“My brother goes to school with his brother, Lorenzo,” the boy continued, not yet out of earshot. “Lorenzo’s the oldest Rosetti kid and my brother said he’s just as bad as his dad.”
Dante frowned and stared at the floor.
“Here,” I said over the boy’s voice. I pulled the princess coloring book out of my bag and handed it to him. “I heard Ms. Stohl say all the girls in her kindergarten class are really into that princess right now. I don’t use it anymore, but I thought Sofia might like it.”
Dante perked up. “Sofia can have it?”
I smiled. “Yeah.”
“I should’ve known.” The mocking sound of Lorenzo’s voice made me stiffen. “Here I am,” Lorenzo said, “wondering what happened to my baby brother when all you’re doing is flirting with your girlfriend. Come on. Show me your moves, little man.”
“Cut it out, Lo.” Dante’s eyes darted to mine, full of apologies. “She’s not my girlfriend.”
I felt a bit shaky inside as my gaze bounced between the two of them.
Lorenzo leaned against the cafeteria doorjamb. He was barely sixteen, with the same brown hair as Dante, but his thick facial hair made him look much older. “That’s good. You know she’s not good enough for you.”
Dante faced his brother. “Leave her alone!”
“Ooh, standing up for her. Definitely not something a boyfriend would do.” He sneered and stared at Dante’s hands. “Hold on! Are you holding a coloring book? What are you, five?”
“I gave it to him. It’s for Sofia,” I snapped.
Lorenzo narrowed his eyes and focused on me. “Is it now? And what makes you think you can give anything to my sister?”
My pulse raced but before Lorenzo could say anything else, Sofia came walking up in a single-file line behind her kindergarten teacher. Dante grabbed her hand and showed her the coloring book. “This is for you. Want to color when we get home?”
Sofia’s face lit up as she followed Dante into the cafeteria. Dante didn’t look back. But Lorenzo did. He gave me a long scornful glance before disappearing into the crowd.
“Sloane?”
I blinked and Jason came back into focus. “Sorry. It was just a nightmare. I’m fine.”
He moved toward me. “You’re not fine. You’re shaking.”
I examined my shaking hands. Of course I’m shaking! I saw an innocent old man get murdered and Lorenzo Rosetti was involved! I understand now why we’ve been running for six years! Because even at twelve years old, I knew to be afraid of Lorenzo Rosetti.
