Page 65 of Come Find Me
He nods once, and then his eyes widen. Downstairs, a door creaks open. We stare at each other, frozen. Nolan grabs my arm and pulls me into the closet, shutting us both inside. We’re pressed together, chest to chest, the clothes and hangers swaying around us, and I can feel his heartbeat against his ribs, as fast as my own must be beating. His breath against my forehead comes quickly, and I try to slow my breathing, to calm myself. It isn’t working. Someone’s here.
Nolan grabs the clothes, to keep them still. I hold my breath.
The house is older, and I can track the person just from the creaks in the wood, doors opening, cabinets closing, water in the pipes.
I start to relax, thinking we just need to wait this thing out. Maybe someone forgot their wallet, or something else they needed, and they’ll be on their way again. But seconds later, we hear footsteps coming up the stairs. I start to panic.
And then, as the steps get closer, they start moving faster. Oh God, we left the door to this room open. My entire body tenses, and I can feel Nolan’s doing the same.
The steps stop at the door of the room. And then a voice. “Hunter?” She sounds younger, our age—I imagine the teenager in the family picture downstairs.
My hand tightens on Nolan’s arm, and he pulls me closer.
The footsteps approach, and it sounds like she’s mumbling, “You’re such a jerk—”
I hold my breath, counting the seconds, hoping she turns away. Nolan’s fingers are trembling against my skin. Then, in three quick steps, she storms across the room and yanks open the closet door.
I close my eyes, as if that can stop the inevitable. And I throw my hands in the air, as if that’s ever stopped anyone.
“What the—”
The girl in front of us is probably around our age, and she’s quickly backing away. Her blue eyes have gone wide, and her mouth, colored with bright pink lipstick, has dropped open.
“Wait!” I yell after her, thinking she’s going to call the police, or worse.
But she has her phone in her hand, held out to us like a weapon. And she’s still backing away, into the hallway. We should run, too. We should run before we’re found by someone else.
“We’re friends of Hunter’s!” Kennedy shouts, and everyone freezes.
Oh God, I hope she has a plan.
The girl turns around, her grip still on the doorway, like she’s about to take off at any moment. “DidHuntersend you here?” And then she no longer seems afraid. She narrows her eyes, holds out her hand again. “Whatever you took, leave it. Or Iwillcall the police, and you can tell him that.”
Huh?
Kennedy shoots me a look, as if she, too, is unsure where to go from here. “No, sorry. We went to school with him. And no one”—she clears her throat—“no one seems to be looking anymore. We just thought…”
“You thoughtwhat?” the girl asks, her knuckles still white from the tension in her fist.
I hold my breath, waiting. Her face is hard, unreadable. “We thought…we thought…” But even Kennedy is coming up empty.
The girl continues. “You want me to believe that Hunter didn’t send you here? That instead, you decided to just break into his house, looking for clues?” She looks between the two of us skeptically. “How the hell did you get in here, then?”
“The key,” Kennedy says, “in the backyard.” She holds it out, fingers trembling. The girl stares at her hand, frowning. She doesn’t come any closer.
“Nothing to see here, kids. The police have been through here already. There’s no mystery. So how about you get the hell out of my house, before I call the cops?”
“You found him?” I ask. I don’t get why his photo is up on our wall, if so.
She laughs. “Hardly. Hunter doesn’t want to be found, so he won’t be. But I don’t need to see him when the money from the downstairs jar goes missing. When my mom’s diamond bracelet goes missing, and also his favorite food from the fridge. I thought you were him, when I heard you up here.” She rolls her eyes. “He is officially the worst, if he thinks we don’t notice.” She shakes her head. “My mom refuses to accept it, though.”
“You think he ran away?”
“Think?” She starts to laugh, then stops. “He’s done it before, but he always comes back. So yeah, I’m sure. Who else would be stealing our things without breaking in?”
“I don’t believe it,” Kennedy whispers, though I don’t think she’s talking to this girl. I think she’s talking about the search, how it’s just led us here for nothing. A whole empty universe that makes no sense.
But this girl isn’t having it, Kennedy’s denial. “Yeah?” she says, leaning into her hip. “That building behind the old Rollins factory?” she asks, like we should know what that is. I nod, an instinct. “Swing by at night. You’ll see what I mean. He’s been here recently, and he never stays far from where he can get money. And right now, that place is us.”
