Page 72 of Come Find Me
“Yeah, Kennedy. I’ll come with you.”
And then we head back onto the highway. I’m not really sure what’s waiting for me there. I don’t know if I want to face it, what the police think I’ve done. What they think I know.
I’m starting to believe that this whole search was not about my brother at all, but about helping Kennedy. And maybe it wasn’t Liam speaking to me after all that night, but her.
I reach out and take her hand. Because at least it’s something I can do.
On a scale of one to ten, Joe is hovering around a sixteen when I come back home. Nolan walked me to the front door, saying we were going to face it down together. I think he’s regretting his decision right about now.
The look on Joe’s face is half anger, half anguish. No, scratch that: three-quarters anger, one-quarter anguish. “I left a note,” I say, wincing. “And a text.”
“I’ve been worried sick,” he says. Then he looks at Nolan, like this is his fault.
“It was important, Joe.” And then I tell him. How I recognized the photo on Nolan’s wall—the missing person. How we drove down to North Carolina through the night (here Joe rubs his temples, like he’s fighting off a migraine) and visited his house (I decidedvisitedwas the best term to use there). How his sister told us that her brother isn’t really gone, just choosing to disappear, and her mother doesn’t want to admit it. She gave us an address, to prove it.
“We went to the address,” I say. “A little while ago.”
Nolan clears his throat. I can see Joe’s face, like he’s trying to process, and also trying not to explode, and to somehow hold all these things in balance—the big and the little—and I just need to tell him.
“We saw him, Joe. His name is Hunter Long, and he was in this abandoned factory building, with these two other guys. We talked to him, and he knew Elliot, but he’s scared—”
Joe stands then. “Wait a minute, back up, back up. You went to this abandoned factory, and…what? Just walked right in?”
“Well, they must have heard us outside, and they stood up, and Hunter ran because he was scared, but I followed him—”
“Oh myGod,Kennedy!” Joe is yelling again. Well, the scales tipped, and not in our favor. “Are you two out of yourminds? First, driving through the night, and keeping your phone off so I had no idea where you were. Yes, I noticed that part. Then, tracking down some kid who may or may not be missing, just because you think you saw him with Elliot once—”
“Ididsee him, Joe. Hetoldme—”
But Joe keeps going like he doesn’t even hear me. “Then,” he continues, pacing back and forth so Nolan and I have to turn our heads side to side just to keep up with him. “Wait, let me see if I’ve got this next part straight.Then,you wait until night, and you sneak around some abandoned factory, where who knowswhatis going on inside—obviously, nothing good. I mean, it’s an abandoned factory in the middle of the night, and you should be smarter than this. Kennedy, I trusted you. I did. But this is ridiculous. And then you followed him through the woods?”
Nolan’s head has dropped lower, like he’s ashamed.
“Joe,” I say. “He was Elliot’s boyfriend.”
He stops pacing then, narrowing his eyes. “What?”
I swallow nothing. “He was Elliot’s boyfriend. He was a runaway, staying at the college, which is how he met Elliot. And apparently Elliot confided in him, his thoughts about Will….Elliot didn’t want them together, you’re right. But it was because he thought there was something off with Will. Something she wouldn’t see. Joe, I think it was Will who shot Mom.”
Joe is speechless. His gaze shifts to Nolan, as if asking for confirmation that he’s hearing this correctly. Nolan nods once. He hands Joe the file, the one Nolan got from his house—all the details about Hunter Long. Who he is, where he lives. And a few notes written over the top, now in Nolan’s handwriting: the name of the factory, the date and time we saw him.
“Elliot’s trial startsthis week.Don’t you think the police have been through this? It was your mother’s gun, and Elliot’s prints were on it. There was gunshot residue all over his clothes, and youtoldme what you saw….” Joe trails off, shaking his head. “Kennedy, this is wishful thinking.”
“It is, Joe. It is. You’re right. But I believe Elliot wouldn’t do that. I think you believe it, too. And if you believe that, it opens you up to seeing something more.” I take a deep breath. “I think Mom took the gun out, to protect herself, but Will took it from her. I think they were fighting, and Elliot didn’t hear it.” I remember what Elliot was like, when he was in the zone. How I could sneak up on him, with his headphones on, and he wouldn’t hear it until it was too late. I saw his headphones on the desk that night, when I peered in the window.
“I think he heard the gunshot,” I explain, “and that’s when he left the room. I think he tried to wrestle it away, to protect himself, and that’s when he shot Will.”
Joe just stares at me; I can’t figure out what’s going on in his head. It’s closed off, a mystery to me.
“He says he doesn’t know what happened.”
“Maybe he doesn’t,” I say. “You know how he is with blood. He gets sick at the sight of hisown.” Or maybe Elliot does remember bits and pieces, and none of it changes anything. He did pull a trigger. He did do something terrible.
“Joe, I want to tell the police. Not just about that. I want to tell them what I saw. What really happened. All of it.”
He pauses, looking me over slowly. Picking his next words carefully. “It’s going to look even worse for him, if you say it,” he says gently. Elliot, with a gun, pointed in my direction.
I know this. And yet. “If I want them to believe me, I have to tell them everything.”
