All Eyes on Us, page 25
“Fine. I’ll wait in my car.”
When I step outside into the tiny front lot, David’s truck is in the spot next to mine. He rolls down the window and grins.
“Fancy meeting you here, Amanda Kelly. Shouldn’t you be celebrating Carter’s homecoming?”
“David Gallagher, as I live and breathe.” I glance around the lot, but it’s just the two of us.
“Hop in.” He leans over to unlatch the passenger’s side door.
“Can’t. I have to wait for Carter’s prescriptions. Then back to the party; you know how it is.”
“Suit yourself. I was about to drive around back and light up. You’re waiting anyway, right?”
The last time I smoked up with David, I wound up locked in at the track. He probably has no idea what his little brother’s been up to, but if Ben came to visit him at the site that day, if David could confirm he was there, that’s another nail in Ben’s coffin.
“Five minutes, then I have to go back in.” He pushes the door all the way open, and I climb inside.
David’s truck is the extra large kind with four doors and a backseat, and he keeps it meticulously clean. I remember when he got it two years ago. Despite its age, it still has that new car smell. I lean my head back against the headrest as David backs out of the lot and drives around to the delivery area.
“So, what brings you to CVS?” I ask.
David puts the truck in park right next to the dumpster where I tried to shake down counter boy for teddy bear information. Tonight, the delivery lot is empty except for us.
“Huh?” David asks.
“CVS. The store we’re currently patronizing. Never mind, it’s not important.” I wait for him to turn off the truck and pull out a joint. Instead, he just stares at me.
“I’m sorry, Amanda.”
Before I have a chance to ask what he means, two sets of hands are on me. David lunges forward and grabs my wrists, and something dark and scratchy covers my eyes.
“Fuck!” I scream. “What the hell?”
The cloth jerks tight, and I can feel someone knot it around the back of my head.
“You have the ties?” David asks. His fingers are firm around my wrists, crushing them. I try to wrench away, but I can’t see anything, and his grip doesn’t loosen.
“Yeah, one sec,” says the voice from the backseat. “Here, hold them up.”
“Ben?” I ask. “Jesus Christ.”
Ben just grunts, but I know it’s him. “I know your voice, you asshole.”
David jerks my wrists up, and something plastic slides around them. It bites into my skin as he pulls it tight.
“Ouch.”
“Sorry,” he says again, and then I’m being dragged into the backseat and shoved onto the floor. My hands lie useless in my lap. Ben’s hands are stiff on my shoulders, ready in case I try to struggle.
“Help! Hel—” I start to yell, but my voice is immediately drowned out by some metal band blasting through the truck stereo. David cranks it up. Then the truck jerks into reverse, and we’re backing onto the street.
“Get your hands off me,” I growl at Ben over the music.
“Sorry,” he mutters, but doesn’t budge.
“Is that all you two know how to say? If you’re so sorry, let me out of this truck.” My heart is pounding. Ben doesn’t move.
“You can take off the blindfold,” I shout, trying another tactic. “I obviously know who you are.”
Ben doesn’t say anything. He must have been crouched on the floor when I got in. When I walked right into this. We’re stopped at the end of the street. David turns the truck left, away from CVS and South. Of course, the blindfold’s so I don’t know where we’re going. Everything’s a little sideways from the floor of the truck, but Logansville is small. Unless we’re headed out of town, all I have to do is pay attention.
We stop, and I know we’re at the light three blocks down from CVS, at the base of the hill. Then the light must change, because the truck lurches forward. My mind reels. That Saturday at the high school was a setup for tonight, so I’d get in his truck. I imagine Ben and David planning this out. David must have faked a text from CVS while Ben was at the party. I picture Ben, how he kept checking his phone—for updates from David. He knew the Shaws’ cars were parked in. He knew mine would be across the street, that Winston would ask me to go.
The truth explodes across the back of my eyelids. I was onto Ben, but not David. It’s been both Gallaghers all along.
We turn left again, and my mental map goes blurry. Are we turning onto Oakwood or Clover? We can’t be all the way to Bancroft. Right? David makes a right and then two more rights, and by now I’m totally lost. We drive around for minutes or hours. I lose track of time. It can’t really be hours, but by the time the truck slows to a stop and David puts it in park, I have no idea where we are or how long we’ve been driving around. I am totally screwed.
A loud screech. Then something that sounds like scissors or a knife being dragged across cloth.
“What the—” I start to ask, but before I can get the words out, Ben presses something sticky across my lips. Duct tape.
David switches off the ignition, and the car fills with silence. My ears are ringing.
“Sorry, darling,” he says, “but we’re getting out now. Can’t have you yelling up a storm.”
“Where the hell are we?” I try to ask, but it comes out as, “Mmrmph . . .”
The back door swings open, and I’m hit with a blast of icy air.
“Time to get out.” The guys reach in and pull me to my feet. I want to say I can do it on my own, but I can’t say anything. My heart starts hammering again. We didn’t get on a highway, I know that. We’re definitely still in Logansville. Someone will notice I’m missing, right? Rosalie will have called PI Krausse by now. He’ll come to CVS and find my abandoned car. Maybe someone saw me get inside David’s truck. They’ll put out a search on the vehicle. They’ll find me.
Unless no one saw me get in the truck. Unless they have no idea where to look.
I’m sweating through my dress and my legs are shaking as the guys steer me toward wherever we’re going. I curse my heels, which aren’t making this any easier. We’re walking over pavement or cement, something hard. We could be on a sidewalk, but something tells me we’re nowhere public. A parking lot?
“Watch your step.” David grabs me beneath my arms and guides me over something—a log? But we’re not in the woods. “Hold her.”
David transfers me to Ben and I give a little twist, testing him. His fingers dig into my shoulders. Then, the sound of a key turning in a heavy lock. A door swings open, and we’re moving again. The ground beneath us is uneven now, rocks and dirt? We’re inside, I think, but there’s no heat, and there’s definitely no furniture because everything echoes. It smells a little like cement mix and something earthy.
Suddenly, I know exactly where we are. All that driving around, and we only went two blocks. We’re in the construction site at the high school. Of course, David has the keys.
Fingers touch my face, and I jerk, but then the tape rips off in a quick, burning flash. Before they can slap it back on, I scream at the top of my lungs. No one stops me.
“Scream all you want, there’s no one here.” Ben’s voice.
“Bullshit. I know exactly where we are. Construction site. Gymnasium, to be exact.”
“Good work.” David’s voice. “But no one’s coming, roof’s finished. If it’s soundproof enough for hundreds of screaming teenagers, it’s soundproof enough for you.”
I scream again, just in case, and my voice crashes back at me in a hail of echoes.
Something drags across the floor, and then hands are pushing on my shoulders, pushing me down to sit. A chair, probably the metal folding variety.
“You done now?” David asks.
I don’t respond.
“Look,” he continues. “I’m real sorry about this, Amanda. But we’re not going to hurt you, swear to god.”
“Then why are we here?” I ask. “When everyone finds out about this, you’re both going to rot in jail.”
“Whoa, slow down.” David’s voice again. “No one’s going to jail, because nothing bad is going to happen.”
“You assholes are terrible criminals.” I can’t stop my voice from shaking, and I pray they don’t notice. I’m at Logansville South, inside the new and apparently soundproof gym. I’m blindfolded, my wrists are tied up, and no one knows I’m here.
Then two hands remove the blindfold, and I blink hard and fast. It only takes a minute for my eyes to adjust because it’s really freaking dark in here. Only the floor is unfinished; the walls and ceiling are complete. A bank of thick, glass windows line the top of a wall where bleachers will eventually go, but it’s pitch dark outside.
“Better?” David asks.
I glare at him.
“You asked why we’re here,” Ben says. “It’s simple. We’re here to make a phone call.”
“Then joke’s on you,” I say, “ ’cause I don’t have my phone.”
Ben reaches into his pocket and pulls out his Android. “That won’t be a problem.”
His voice is shaking worse than mine. “We’re going to call Carter. When he’s on, you’re going to ask him to put his phone on speaker. Then, you’re going to tell him you never loved him, and that your relationship is over. Simple as that.”
“No way,” I snarl. “You’ve always been jealous of Carter, admit it. Getting him benched in lacrosse, getting me to dump him? This is pathetic, Gallagher.”
David’s face is expressionless, but Ben’s mouth twists into a scowl. “Make the call, Amanda.” He places the phone in my hands. Carter’s number is up on the screen. All I have to do is press the call icon.
“No.”
Ben reaches into his coat pocket. “I really didn’t want to have to do this,” he says.
Something metal catches the dim light in the gym, and there’s a flash of silver. Ben Gallagher is holding a gun, barrel pointing straight at me.
34
ROSALIE
TUESDAY, JANUARY 23
I’m stopped at the traffic light in front of the school, a long line of cars crossing in front of me. CVS is another two blocks down, but I can see Amanda lit up in the store lights, talking to someone in a blue pickup truck. It’s definitely her—green dress flashing through her open coat, and who else wears five-inch heels to CVS? Ben is nowhere in sight. She climbs in, and then the truck pulls out of the lot and disappears up the side street.
My relief at seeing Amanda is immediately replaced by confusion. The light changes, and I close the gap between the high school and CVS, then turn into the lot. I look up the side street, but the truck is gone. Amanda’s car, on the other hand, is parked right here. Did she lock her keys inside? Maybe she was getting a ride back to the party. I look through the window, but there’s no sign of keys in the ignition or on the seat. I check the tires; no flat.
I’m propping my bike against the store wall when a kid in a CVS T-shirt walks out, shrugging an army jacket over his shoulders.
“Better hurry,” he says. “Store’s closing.”
“Wait.” I get in his path, stopping him. “Did you see a girl here a few minutes ago? Straight brown hair, heels, green dress?”
He blinks at me. “Yeah, I saw her.”
“Well, she just left in a blue pickup. Did you see who was driving?”
He shakes his head. I’m about to press him further when the truck reappears. I shine my headlamp toward the window, but all I can make out is a guy wearing a baseball cap. He’s built, definitely not in high school, and there’s no one in the passenger’s seat. The truck pauses at the stop sign, then hangs left. As it turns, I catch a glimpse into the back. It’s one of those four-door models, and there’s someone in the backseat, hunched over. Must be Ben. It looks like he’s reaching for something he dropped on the floor. Or holding someone down . . .
As the truck speeds off, I flash my headlamp on the license plate. RTK something.
“I need to use your phone. It’s an emergency.”
The kid stares at me blankly.
“I need to call nine-one-one. Now.” I stick out my hand.
He snaps to life and reaches into his pocket for his cell. I punch in the numbers and wait for the dispatcher to pick up.
“I need to report a kidnapping. A blue pickup truck with plates starting with RTK made a left onto—hold on.” I turn to the kid. “What’s this street?”
“Foster.”
“Made a left onto Foster at the CVS two blocks down from Logansville South. I saw a girl named Amanda Kelly get into that truck. She’s seventeen . . . she’s being held by her classmate Ben Gallagher and another guy.”
The kid gapes at me. The dispatcher asks about the truck’s make and model. Do I know who the driver was?
“It was a Ford I think. I don’t know.”
The dispatcher wants to know if I saw anything else, am I sure Amanda didn’t get into the truck willingly, do I know where they might be headed.
I lie. It’s too much to explain, and I need them to start looking. “They dragged her inside. Ben Gallagher and the other guy. Ben’s a student at the high school. The other guy was a little older, twenties maybe? Wearing a baseball cap. I have no idea where they were going. Left on Foster, about two minutes ago. Can you please look for the truck?”
When the dispatcher has all she needs, I hang up and return the phone.
“I know that girl,” the kid says finally. “She was here about a week ago, asking about these teddy bears? Said she had a secret admirer.”
I scowl. “Yeah well, that secret admirer just stuffed her into the back of his pickup truck. Thanks for the phone.”
I leave him gaping and grab my bike, wheel it over to Amanda’s car, and flip the kickstand down. My pulse is racing; I need to do something. But I already called Nathaniel. I called 911. By now, the truck could be anywhere; trying to track it down on my bike would be pointless. If Nathaniel got my message, he’ll come to CVS. My best move is to wait here.
I slip my messenger bag off my shoulders and dump it on the trunk of Amanda’s car. Then I pull myself up next to it and wait. A few minutes later, a single cop car speeds by.
When I’ve been waiting for what must be an hour, I admit to myself that Nathaniel’s not coming. My teeth are chattering so hard my jaw aches, and there’s been no further sign of the police. I need a new plan. The thought of busting into the Shaws’ uninvited makes my stomach turn, but someone needs to tell Amanda’s parents what’s going on. It’s not exactly my first choice of missions, but it’s something. Maybe they can get their useless PI on the phone.
I jump on my bike and start pedaling back up the hill toward the high school. It looks like they’re putting on an addition. The school is dark and empty, but the streetlamps cast a dull yellow glow on the half-finished structure. And one blue pickup parked in the tiny side lot. It’s barely visible from the road, half obscured by temporary fencing and a hearty pair of pines. If I had been going any faster, I’d have ridden right by it.
I jump off my bike and leave it propped against a planter in the lot. I leave my helmet too, but not before removing the headlamp. It’s pitch dark; I’m going to need it. I check out the truck first; it’s definitely the right one. I repeat the full plate number beneath my breath, but it doesn’t matter now. The truck is right here, and it’s empty.
Up close, I can see the half-finished addition is actually two buildings. One is still mostly scaffolding, but the other has walls and a roof. I turn my headlamp on and start walking. They might have taken her inside the school, but it’s probably locked up for the night. They’re clearly not in the scaffolding structure; I can see right inside. So that leaves the other building.
I walk around the perimeter, trying to stay silent. On one side, it’s attached to the school, but the other three sides are exposed. The site is a mess of bricks and buckets and all sorts of materials left out overnight. I guess no one worries about their shit getting stolen in Logansville. There’s one door and the only windows are a bank of thick glass cubes up near the top of the building. They’re not the kind that open. I think about trying the door, but if I’m right and Amanda’s inside, I’ll give myself away as soon as I push the handle. What I need is an air vent. Something I can listen to, see if I can hear them. If they’re inside, I’ll get back on my bike and find someone with a phone. Call 911 again.
Around the back, I find the vents where the heating and cooling system will eventually go. I get down on the ground and press my ear to the wall.
A voice asks, “Better?” Or maybe “bitter?” It’s a voice I don’t recognize, maybe the driver.
A different male voice speaks next. I can’t make out everything, but he says something about making a phone call.
Then Amanda’s voice rings out, the loudest of the three. “Then joke’s on you, ’cause I don’t have my phone.”
I suck in my breath. The second voice—must be Ben—is speaking again, saying something about calling Carter, speakerphone, breaking up. Everything’s far from adding up, but they’re definitely inside with Amanda, and that’s all I need to know. Time to find someone who will let me use their phone and let the professionals take over. I start to shove myself up off the ground, but the driver’s voice stops me.
“Is that a gun? Fuck, Ben, what the hell are you doing with that?”
He must be closer to the vent; he’s easier to hear. Ben says something next, something about taking this shit seriously. Then something about the art museum and Amanda’s mom and Carter’s dad. I can’t make it all out. I hear the words stealing and cash flow and scam. Whatever he’s talking about, it’s clearly making Amanda upset.
“This is about my mother? You’re so full of shit, Ben Gallagher. Even if you’re right, why do you care?”
I press my ear back to the vent. Ben’s voice again, something about “going public.” Is he talking about the museum? Or asking Amanda to be his girlfriend?
