Someone is always watchi.., p.10
Someone Is Always Watching, page 10
The first thing I notice is the smell of smoke. That sets me at a run, until I discover it’s exactly what Tanya postulated—someone is having a bonfire in the neighborhood beyond.
Why would Sydney have come out here? Did someone bring her here? Lure her here?
I take deep breaths and remind myself that wild speculation won’t help. Tucker rubs the back of my arm—a simple, steadying, wordless gesture that clears my mind better than any stern self-talk.
We canvas the small forest looking for my sister. Tanya has wandered off, as usual, going her own way as she searches. I’m with Tucker, using his phone for light.
“I think Sydney might have been attacked,” I say. “She said her head hurt, and she seemed confused.”
“Yeah.” His tone is neutral, as if he’s agreeing with me, but I know it means he’s already thought of this. He just hadn’t wanted to freak me out more.
“She could also have fallen,” I say. “Fell and hit her head, maybe?”
He nods, but we both know that doesn’t make sense.
“She gets hit,” I say. “Some rando attacks her. She runs into the forest here and manages to call Tanya, then passes out.” I squint over at the second light. “Tanya?”
“I can hear you,” she calls back. “You mean she might be on the ground, so keep an eye out underfoot. Not sure how much that helps, though.”
I see her point. This isn’t like regular forest, with plenty of bushes and thick undergrowth that could hide Sydney’s fallen form. It’s just trees. Leaves blanket the ground, but I don’t see any piles deep enough for someone to collapse unseen.
Tucker crouches and shines his light around. Tanya does the same from her spot fifty feet away. They continue like that, walking a bit, and then crouching to illuminate the surrounding ground. As they do, I peer toward the distant neighborhood and inhale the smoke of burning leaves.
Something’s not right.
I walk a little way from Tucker. The smell of a leaf fire surges and then fades.
It’s breezy tonight. One minute I smell the fire, and the next I don’t.
So?
A few more steps, and the breeze changes, and the smell of smoke surges…but it’s different. And it’s coming from the wrong direction.
I pick up my pace, squinting to see in the darkness. There’s light ahead—moonlight—as I come to the edge of the forest.
“Bliss?”
I wave a hand, telling Tucker I’m fine. I reach the forest’s edge and gaze out at the soccer fields. As I walk into the field, my foot hits something white. I bend down, but it’s only a plastic fork from last weekend’s harvest festival.
I’m rising when the wind shifts again, and that other smoke smell hits strong. When I stand, it dissipates. I bend again, track the direction, and then stride that way. Ahead, the ground dips toward a drainage pipe. That’s where the smell comes from.
I pick up speed. “Sydney?”
Footsteps pound in the forest. Tucker appears, Tanya close behind. I wave to tell them I don’t have her, but I keep running toward the pipe.
The smell hits as soon as I reach it. Smoke.
“Tuck—” I begin, and he’s there before I can finish, shoving his phone toward me, the flashlight on.
I crouch at the mouth of the pipe. The stink of rotting leaves wafts up. I focus on the smoke and spot a tiny smoldering fire just outside the grate. The rusted hatch is shut, the usual padlock nowhere to be seen.
I throw open the gate, and Tanya says, “There!”
She waves her light, and I see my sister facedown in mud and rotting leaves. I scramble through the gate, rusted metal scraping my shins.
I grab her shoulder and shake, flipping her over with the force. She’s like a rag doll in my hands. An image flashes: Sydney as a little girl, far below me, lying on the ground with her limbs askew as someone screams.
The vision vanishes, and I’m screaming. Sydney jolts awake, her arms and legs flailing. She smacks me and gibbers something I don’t catch, but then she’s blinking in the flashlight beam, blinking hard.
“Blythe?” she says.
I reach for her, and she collapses into my arms.
TWELVE
Sydney’s head is bleeding, and her ankle’s twisted. When I called Mom, she said she’d meet us at our private clinic. It’s at the lab where our parents work. Yet another perk of being employed by a medical research firm.
I’m in the rear seat with Sydney, holding her. She’s drifted out of consciousness. Tucker glances back, and his mouth hardens.
“When they find who did this…,” he says, and when his words trail off, I realize it’s a question, even if there’s no inflection in his voice.
“When they find who did this,” I say, “the police will handle it.”
He meets my gaze, and I can tell he wants to say more. If the police handle it, sure, but if they don’t, then someone should, and by someone, I mean me.
“The police will handle it,” I say, firmer.
“They damn well better,” Tanya says.
“Can we talk about something else?” I ask. “I’m going to have to explain why I wasn’t at home…and why I’m with Tucker.”
“No need for the Tucker part,” she says. “I can drop him off.”
I glance down at Sydney and shake my head. “I’m not asking her to lie.”
“Agreed,” Tucker says. “I’ll take the blame. I’ll say I showed up.”
“No,” Tanya says. “We’ll say we called you. Blythe snuck out to hang with me, and we got the call from Syd, so I called you in because you have the car.”
That’s perfectly reasonable. Yet the moment I get to the clinic, where Mom and Dad are waiting, I say, “Yes, I was with Tucker.”
Tanya throws up her hands in exasperation, all her work undone.
I won’t lie any more than I need to. We will deal with this later, as my mother’s look warns. To Tucker, she only says, stiffly, “Thank you for helping.”
As we head inside, I glance back at Tucker, motioning that he’s free to go home. He shakes his head. As an employee’s son, he won’t be stopped from coming in. He follows at a distance, and then ducks into the waiting room with Tanya.
Sydney is taken straight into an examination room by Dr. Kilpatrick—Callum’s dad. Another staff member takes my account of what happened while my parents listen in.
I don’t really know what happened, beyond what we found. On the way here, Sydney had drifted in and out of consciousness, never lucid for long, and when she was, she needed comfort, not interrogation. There will be time for that later.
I’ll need to explain the whole thing again to the police. According to the nurse, they’ll be called as soon as Sydney is alert enough to confirm she was attacked.
“Confirm she was attacked?” I say. “She was in a pipe. Unconscious. Facedown in the mud. With the grate shut.”
“She’s a fifteen-year-old girl,” the nurse says evenly. “CMT will want to be sure a crime was committed before any report is made.”
“What does this have to do with CMT?”
“Nothing,” Mom says. “Nurse Kumar means that CMT is advising us to hold off making a report, in case Sydney did something she’d find embarrassing.”
Mom raises her hands against my protest. “Yes, I don’t think that’s what happened here. But I don’t want Sydney waking up surrounded by detectives. Particularly if there is any part of her story she’d rather discuss with us in private. If she isn’t lucid in the next hour, we’ll reconsider. I realize there’s a potential crime scene to consider.”
I want to argue, but, yes, it would be traumatic for Sydney if we called the police and discovered she’d ended up in that pipe because Cassidy gave her drugs. There’s no harm in waiting until she can tell us what happened.
Then Mom says, “Can we speak to you outside, Blythe? While we’re waiting for Sydney to wake up?”
She leads me into a secretarial office. Dad half-closes the door, leaving it open enough that we can be found if needed.
“You want to talk about Tucker, right?” I say.
“We’re just—” Mom says.
“Concerned. Tucker has a ‘reputation,’ ” I say, beginning the recital I’ve heard so many times. “He has problems with authority and self-control. He has behavioral issues. This is my last year of high school, and this is the time I really need to apply myself. Which apparently means I can’t be trusted to choose my own friends.”
Mom’s face tightens. Before she can answer, Dad says, “Tucker hasn’t even started his college applications. His father doesn’t think he plans to go.”
I want to give them shit for being elitist. What they mean, though, is that Tucker doesn’t have any plans. That’s only because it isn’t in his nature to plan that far ahead. He will go to college…and probably change his major three times as he explores all his options.
“What happened last spring was on me,” I say, my voice low. “It’s my fault. Not his.”
“You aren’t the one who—” Mom says.
“Maggie,” Dad murmurs. Then he turns to me. “We’re concerned that you keep blaming yourself. What that boy did to you wasn’t your fault. Wanting revenge is understandable, but Tucker took advantage of that. He manipulated you because he wanted the excuse.”
“I’mthe one who wanted the excuse—”
“We thought you were in bed tonight, Blythe,” Dad says. “That’s what you told us.”
I hesitate. He’s changing the subject, and I want to pursue the other one, to make them understand. But they won’t. Can’t. We end up locked in our positions every time.
I ease back against the desk. “I needed to be with friends who know Gabrielle. I called Tanya. She can’t drive right now, so—”
“So, I brought Tucker,” Tanya says, throwing open the door. “I blindsided Blythe. My fault.”
I shake my head. “No. You asked whether Tucker could come along, and I said yes.”
Mom clears her throat. “I appreciate you trying to help, Tanya, but this is a private conversation.”
“Not if it’s about my brother.”
“Yes,” Mom says evenly. “Especially if it’s about your brother.”
“Because Tucker is a bad influence.” Tanya rolls her eyes. “What bullshit. They both admit they made a mistake last spring. Yet they need to be separated, like misbehaving children.”
“Tanya?” Mom says. “We all appreciate how passionately you defend your brother, but—”
“Neurodivergent,” Tanya says.
Mom frowns. “What?”
“My brother is neurodivergent. That’s the term, right? If you have autism or ADHD or whatever. If your brain doesn’t work the same as everyone else’s. You’re the neurosurgeon. You should understand that better than anyone. What if Tucker were autistic? Would you keep your daughter away from him then?”
“No one is keeping Blythe away from Tucker,” Dad says. “We’ve expressed our concerns—which your father shares—and suggested that some distance may be in order.”
“So, it’s Blythe’s choice. She’s free to see him.”
“Tanya,” Mom says, her voice firming in a way I know well. “I’m going to suggest you take this up with your father, who is even more concerned than we are.”
“Hey,” a voice says behind her. “Did I miss my invitation?”
The door opens wider, and Tucker stands in the gap.
“Pretty sure I heard my name.” Tucker turns to my mother. “I’m sorry I violated the parental restraining order, Dr. Warren. I know you don’t want me around Blythe. We’ve been respecting that, but tonight, we needed to talk about Gabrielle. Then the thing with Sydney happened.”
“Without Tucker, we wouldn’t have found her,” I say.
“Right,” Tanya says. “He tracked down the girl Sydney was supposed to meet, and then he found the spot where Sydney had been attacked—”
Tucker raises his hands. “The point is that I wasn’t supposed to be with Blythe.” He turns from Mom to Dad. “I’d never hurt her, Dr. and Mr. Warren.”
“We aren’t worried about that,” Mom says.
“No?” He fixes her with a level look and holds it one heartbeat past comfort. “Okay, but I’ll still say it. I would never hurt Blythe. What happened in the spring was a mistake, and Blythe needed to step back afterward. I respected that. I’ll respect it if she continues to need that distance. If not, though…” He meets Mom’s eyes again. “I think it would be better for everyone if Blythe didn’t need to lie to you. We all know how much she hates that.”
Silence. Awkward silence. I’m about to break it when Dr. Kilpatrick calls, “Maggie? Rob?”
I step out, and the doctor strides our way.
“Sydney’s awake,” he says. “She’s ready to talk.”
* * *
—
We’re in Sydney’s room, and she’s just told us what happened to her.
“No,” I whisper. “That’s not—”
I stop myself, but she already knows what I’d been about to say. Sydney flinches. Then she comes back, eyes flashing.
“I’m not making this up. Check your phone. Gabrielle texted me. She wanted to talk to you. I went instead, to make sure everything was okay. After what happened in the cafeteria, I didn’t want you being stupid, running to her rescue again, and someone getting hurt.”
You getting hurt. That’s what she means. She just can’t bring herself to admit that she’d gone there to protect me. I should be touched, pleased even, but all I can think about is the rest of what she’s saying.
“You saw Gabrielle? You’re sure?”
Her jaw sets firmer. “I am.”
“And she attacked you?” I rub my hands over my face. “I’m sorry, Syd. I don’t mean to doubt you.”
Dad’s arm goes around my shoulders. “You aren’t doubting your sister. You just can’t imagine Gabrielle doing such a thing. Blythe isn’t questioning your recollection, Sydney.”
He leans in to brush a kiss on my sister’s forehead, but she jerks back, glaring. “I never said Gabrielle attacked me. I just said she was there.”
“And you followed her into the forest,” Dad says.
“I thought it was her. Now I’m not so sure.”
Mom and Dad exchange a look.
“But Gabi’s in the hospital, right?” I say. “Locked up? Under guard?”
Even as I say the words, I remember the nurse vaping in the yard, Dr. Washington arriving, and her reaction to Gabrielle being left alone.
Then I remember the figure I’d seen in the cornfield. I remember that, and I feel sick.
Was that you, Gabi? Escaping the hospital, and we were right there, and we could have helped, and I told myself I was imagining things?
A rap at the door. Dr. Kilpatrick walks in, his face grave. He looks at my parents and nods. Mom swears under her breath and slumps against the bed.
“What’s going on?” I say.
Dr. Kilpatrick looks from my parents to me. Dad nods.
“Dr. Washington reported Gabrielle missing from her bed two hours ago,” Dr. Kilpatrick says. “The security team has been searching for her. I was just speaking to Denise”—that’s Callum’s mom—“She was called out on a security matter earlier this evening, but she wasn’t at liberty to share the reason.”
I still want to say Gabrielle couldn’t have attacked Sydney. Yes, Gabrielle escaped and texted me. Yes, Sydney saw her in that lane. Yes, given what happened at school, I already know Gabrielle isn’t thinking straight. But if even Sydney doesn’t think it was Gabrielle who attacked her, then there’s room for doubt, right?
Not according to my parents or Dr. Kilpatrick or even—apparently—Ms. Kilpatrick. They’re all taking it for granted that Gabrielle attacked Sydney, and we can both see there’s no point in arguing. The main thing is finding her. Then we can straighten all this out.
* * *
—
No one is calling the police. Callum’s mom was a military police officer, and her team is all former police and military officers. They are as well-equipped to search for Gabrielle as the police. Better, actually, because police departments don’t have a good track record for dealing with mental health issues.
In the waiting room, I update Tanya and Tucker, and then say, “I appreciate you guys hanging around.”
“But…,” Tanya murmurs.
“It’s time for us to go,” Tucker says. “We’ve done enough damage for one night.”
“No,” I say. “Well, yes, you guys should go—it’s late. But any damage done was damage that needed doing.” I look at Tucker. “I’m sorry. Things were said that you didn’t need to hear.”
“Nothing I don’t already know, and I’d rather have it out in the open. Your parents are worried about you, Bliss. What matters, though, is what you want.”
Tanya grumbles that I don’t know what the hell I want.
“I’ll update you tomorrow,” I say. “Both of you.” I shove my hands into my pockets. “This isn’t the time to challenge my parents, but it’s also not the time to keep up this…”
“Fucking bullshit?” Tanya supplies.
“Not quite how I’d word it, but, yes. Gabi is in trouble, and she needs her friends. I need my friends, too.”
“You also need a phone,” Tucker says. “I’ll bring you my old one with a pay-as-you-go SIM card.”
“You don’t need to—”
“Too late. I’ve already done it. In my head, at least, which is as good as having it in my hand. Now, I’m going to hit the facilities before we leave.”
He jogs off toward the restroom. Tanya calls after him, saying she’ll be outside. I walk out with her.
“I came on too strong, didn’t I?” she says. “With your parents.”
