Crossed Out (17 page)

My mother patted the shoulder of a sobbing Mrs. Van Buren. “Sorry, Carol, about Dylan. Let us know if there’s anything we can do.”

Mrs. Van Buren glared at my mother’s hand as if it were poison. “Get away from me,” she hissed. “It’s your fault. Why my mother got involved, I’ll never know. Now my son’s gone.” She pushed my mother away. “Don’t tell me you don’t know.”

“Hush, Carol,” her husband said. He looked embarrassed.

“What the hell is going on?” Dad asked. “Jean?”

“Nothing,” my mother said. “Carol, I understand you’re upset. But don’t take it out on us.”

“Fine,” Mrs. Van Buren said, her lip curled up in disdain. “If you won’t tell me where he is, then maybe your daughter can.”

I froze. Here I was thinking I had this big secret, but the whole neighborhood seemed to have hidden something even bigger than me. I didn’t know what to do. It wasn’t as if I could tell Dylan’s mother that I’d had this nightmare where my dead former friend warned me about Dylan. No, that wouldn’t go over too well.

So I didn’t say anything.

“Just tell him to come home,” Mrs. Van Buren said, continuing to glare at me. “You know something, Stephanie. I just know it.”

I shook my head. Why did she think I had something to do with Dylan being gone?

“Come on, Stephanie.” Dad pulled me back before I could respond. “Let’s go home.”

I didn’t argue. One thought went through my mind.
Dr. Anthony would know what to do.
I had to come clean with him if I wanted to help Dylan.

This meant I’d have to reveal the weird rescue I’d been a part of.

My hands itched for my phone. I had to call him – now.

Chapter 26

Red and blue lights continued to spin in the driveway next door, cutting through the early morning darkness. Each pulse of light seemed to accuse me of ignoring my earlier ominous feelings regarding Dylan.

I couldn’t wait to get back inside my own house and confront Mom. She promised to tell me what she knew. I pushed back the bile that threatened to come up. I recalled the sorority picture at Hillary’s house, the one without my mother where she should have been. Something creepy was going on. Did I really want to know?

Not only that, but Dylan’s mom had spooked me. Big time. Watching her go all wacko over the sight of a journal and then to see her verbally attacking Mom freaked me out.

But what if Mrs. Van Buren was right?

Then if anything happened to Dylan, it would be Mom’s fault.

I swear I’d never forgive her. Never.

I refused to look at Mom. I clenched my hands inside the pockets of my hoodie. What guarantee did I have she’d tell me anything? If she’d been hiding stuff from me before, then how did I know she would tell me the truth now?

“Poor Carol,” Mom said. “I can’t even imagine what she’s going through.”

I turned around, staring at my mother in astonishment. The words, tell-her-what-you-know were at the tip of my tongue. But I couldn’t get the words out.

“If you ask me.” Dad glanced over his shoulder to view Dylan’s mom still sobbing, “maybe they locked up the wrong Van Buren.”

“Dad!” I whispered.

“Well, it’s true. Don’t tell me you didn’t think the same thing. And why was Carol accusing you of knowing something?” he asked Mom.

“Nerves, I guess.” Mom shrugged. “I don’t blame her. If something like that happened to one of our children, I’d break down too.” She stared at me, almost begging me not to bring up what she’d said earlier in my room.

She didn’t have to worry. I couldn’t. Not in front of Dad, who basically considered anything to do with the unknown, crazy. He wouldn’t help.

“Yes, I guess you’re right.” Dad yawned. “Let’s just all go back to bed and try to get some more sleep. Hopefully this will all be taken care of.”

I really wanted to believe Dad, but my gut told me otherwise. It didn’t help that from Dylan’s driveway a hard-to-understand message blared from a police radio, reinforcing my ominous dream and my desire to get away and find him.

Dad wiped his slippers on the welcome mat and opened the door. “I’ve never known Dylan to get into trouble. But who knows? Maybe he spent the night with a friend or something.”

“Or something,” I said, just wanting to get inside. The faster I could get to my cell phone and call Dr. Anthony, the sooner I could solve this mystery.

“Yes, your dad is right.” Mom touched my shoulder. “Maybe Dylan just forgot about the time and is at a friend’s house.”

I stared back at my mother in disbelief.

Something bad had happened. I wished I could tell my parents how I felt, but this would only cause more problems and leave me with less time to find Dylan – time that was bleeding away the longer we stayed outside.

Inside our house, the darkness felt like a tomb, cold and forbidding. Part of me wanted to crawl under my comforter and act like none of this had happened.

But I couldn’t.

“I’m really tired.” I stretched my arms over my head and yawned. “I’m going back to bed.”

“Night, pumpkin.” Dad kissed the top of my head. “Don’t worry about Dylan. I’m sure everything will be okay.”

“Right, Dad.” I went up the stairs, trying not to show my impatience.

“Wait, Stephanie,” My mom said. “Let’s talk.”

“Jean, let her go back to bed. She has school in a few hours. It can wait.”

Mom exchanged worried glances with me. My heart raced. Would she just spill it all out now, regardless of what Dad would think or say?

She tightened her belt around her robe. “You’re right. Later, okay, Stephanie?”

“Yeah, whatever.”

I opened the door to my room. Finally! Now came the hard part – waiting for my parents to go back to bed and forget about the scene outside. Dad, I didn’t worry about. I swear he’s the only person I knew who could sleep through an earthquake. Mom, on the other hand....

I battled with the urge to go talk to my mother. Maybe she could help. But on the other hand, I didn’t have any more time to waste.

With shaky fingers, I dialed his number. “Dr. Anthony?”

“Stephanie?” His voice sounded groggy. “Why are you calling? It’s four-thirty in the morning!”

A tinge of guilt went through me for waking him up. Then I thought of Dylan.

“Dylan’s missing,” I choked back a sob. “Police are outside.” I pulled the curtain aside to double-check – careful not to reveal myself. Yeah, they were still there. I dropped the drape.

“Calm down, tell me what’s going on.”

“It all started with this bizarre dream I had with Dylan being tied up somewhere. Oh God.” I lost it and cried. “Something weird is going on. My mother seems to know something too.”

At the mention of my mother’s name, Dr. Anthony’s voice grew tense. “Stephanie,” Dr. Anthony said. “Come to the office. You need to tell me everything. And by this I mean
no
more omissions.”

“Okay.” I sniffed. “But what about my mother—”

“We’ll discuss her later. What’s important is getting over here.”

“How am I supposed to get to your office without them seeing me?”

“The same way you always get out,” Dr. Anthony said. “I’ll leave the door to the building open.” He hung up.

Great. I couldn’t take my car. Then an image came to me of my beat-up mountain bike. I’d left it in Mr. Jones’s bushes during my late night date with Mark. I was sure it was still there.

If not, I was screwed, big time.

I grabbed a pair of gloves and made my way back to my window.

No longer did it glow an eerie red and blue. Had the police left? I pulled the curtain aside and saw the empty driveway.

I let out my breath.

Well, what was I waiting for? I climbed out of the window and grabbed a branch of the oak tree. Carefully, I climbed down, my heart racing the whole time.

I had to get Dylan before anything bad happened.

“Well, let’s get started,” Dr. Anthony said as I rushed into his office. Adrenaline shot through my body like the times I’d guzzled down a couple Red Bulls to help with cram sessions.

Usually I welcomed the high-energy feeling, but not now. Too much was riding on whether I could get to Dylan before something really bad happened. I didn’t know for a fact something terrible would happen, I just felt it.

Only a few things had changed in the counselor’s office since my last visit. Some newer books were piled in the far corner of the room and the candy jar was filled to the rim with miniature candy bars. I resisted the urge to open the jar and search for a Hershey Special Dark chocolate bar. Finding Dylan was more important than chocolate.

And something else bugged me. “Dr. Anthony, what’s with my mother?”

He swiveled around in his chair and stared at me. “Your Mother? Why are you bringing this up now?”

I stared back. His right eye twitched. He did know!

“Jeez, this is all starting to make sense. My mother wanted me to see you. That should have been a clue.” I hit my head with the palm of my hand. “My God, how stupid am I?”

“Stephanie—”

“No, wait, don’t answer that.” I glared back at him, daring him to say something. He didn’t.
Good.

“Clue two, my mother gives me the whole guilt thing on making crosses, but she doesn’t destroy them. And clue number three, the whole Mrs. Van Buren episode just a while ago where Dylan’s mother all but accused my mother of withholding information.”

During my rant, Dr. Anthony sat still.

“She does know, doesn’t she?” I folded my arms. “Don’t even go off on me about anything when
both
of you
hid something from me.” I sat back, glaring at Dr. Anthony.

“You done?” he asked. “What would you do if I told you ‘yes’, your mother knew what was happening and only now decided to ask for the council’s help. Would that bring Dylan back sooner?” His dark eyes narrowed. “No.”

I took a deep breath. How dare he ask me that? I wanted to smack something, anything.

“Well, excuse me for freaking out over the fact that my mother knew about all this.” I opened my arms wide to emphasize the room, the counselor’s talismans, and the computer which was displaying something else that looked familiar.

“For all I know she also sees dead people and her so-called sorority makes fancy things to help people go to the other side. Heaven forbid they make anything as common as crosses.”

Dr. Anthony strummed his fingers under his chin, watching me. “That is for your mother to discuss with you. Right now, we have to concentrate on finding Dylan.” He turned his back to me, and typed on the keyboard.

I resented being treated like a child. “No, you need to tell me….” Then something flashed on the screen.

“What’s that?” I pointed to the computer.

I didn’t wait for Dr. Anthony to respond. Instead I walked over for a better look.

Light Bringers.

Large black cursive writing filled the top section of the computer. Bursts of light shot from beneath a cross and a crescent figure that framed the logo. It was the same symbol that was on the office door plaque.

“Isn’t that the name of your counseling organization?” I asked. “Wait a minute. Are you guys some weird religious cult?”

“No,” he said. “This is the name others in my organization go under.”

“Wait a minute.” I bent down to get a better look. “You guys are on the Internet?”

“Why are you surprised?”

I shook my head. “Jeez, at least you guys could have come up with a more original name.”

Dr. Anthony ignored my comment. “I’m only one member out of hundreds. My goal is to help people like you, Stephanie.”

“You mean people like my mother?” The realization that my mother had been in on all this at the very beginning hit me hard. Why hadn’t she confided in me instead of being so dang preachy?

But then another thought came.
Had I been exactly honest with her?

“Yes,” Dr. Anthony said, “and people like Dylan’s grandmother too, except she made a terrible mistake. One we feared you’d make.”

“What are you talking about?” I shrugged my shoulders. “I didn’t tell anyone about helping the dead. I didn’t have any problems either – until lately, but Mark—”

Oops, too late.
I covered my mouth.

“Yes, exactly.” Dr. Anthony said, matter-of-factly. “The main goal of our group is to drive evil back – evil, which, in this case, might have Dylan. Now tell me about this Mark.” His gaze met mine from under his glasses. “And don’t leave anything out.”

“But what does this have to do with Dylan?” I didn’t wanna think about Mark right now.

Dr. Anthony tapped his fingers on the keyboard. His eyebrows lifted, waiting for me to figure out the obvious.

“Okay, well, he’s really cute but in a bad-boy type of way. And I can’t get him out of my mind – that is when he’s around. But when I’m away there’s stuff about him that’s strange.”

“That explains a lot,” Dr. Anthony said. “Do you know his whole name?”

“Uh, Mark Bennion.”

“Is there anything about him that sticks out as being out of the ordinary?”

“Well, he did take me to this coffee shop that so isn’t-over-the-’90s. Cura’s mom should go there sometime.”

Dr. Anthony typed up the name. A picture came up. Or more like an obituary.

“Oh, my God.” I clutched my chest. “That’s him.”

But it couldn’t be.

I bent down close to read:

Nineteen-Year-Old

Found dead at Coffee House

Apparent suicide victim

Drugs are to blame

I scanned the article. Apparently the owner of the coffee house had found one of his workers hanging in the basement. Also there was mention of a fiancée, who’d been killed in an attempted robbery at the same place.

Chills plastered my body. I didn’t know what was worse. Finding out this cute guy at school was dead or that he might be involved in Dylan’s disappearance.

“How did you find this?” I asked. Did he know about Mark this whole time?

“Let’s just say we know about him. He’s been busy at this for some time.”

“Wait a minute here? You knew?” I clenched my fists. “Why didn’t you say anything? My God, you could have stopped whatever it was from taking Dylan!”