Finding Sky (A Nicki Valentine Mystery Book 1) (7 page)

“Mmmm,” she murmured. Very helpful.

“What’s your address?” I spoke up to penetrate her stupor.

“FivefifteenChesterview,” she slurred. I wrote it down and looked at her slumped figure.

“Is that near a major road or shopping center or anything?”

“Mall,” she blurted, as if she used all her energy to utter it.

“Brighton Place Mall?”

“Mmm.” I took that as a yes.

“Okay.” I started the car and looked behind me for partiers. Seeing no one, I reversed slowly and then pulled forward, on the lookout for stumbling teens the same way I checked for kids on my street. “We’re on the move. Let me know if you need me to pull over.” I meant it, but I also hoped my voice would keep her awake, or at least rousable. “How old are you, April?” I continued.

“Eighteen. Can’t talk. Sick.”

“Okay. But how many shots did you have?”

“I dunno. Four?”

I let her be while I navigated the dirt road and left the development-to-be. It took a minute to get my bearings, but after rotating an imaginary map in my head a few times, I knew which way to go. Confidence returned for a moment until I felt a burst of warm air hit the right side of my body. I turned to April, expecting to see her window open, but it was her door instead.

“My God, April! What are you doing?” The words exploded from my mouth as she struggled to release her seatbelt.

“I have to get out of here!” she yelled with more clarity than I’d heard from her yet. Her eyes darted back and forth wildly.

“It’s okay,” I yelled. “I promise! Close your door! Keep your seatbelt on!” My voice competed with the
woosh
,
woosh
,
woosh
of passing road sections.

“Who are you? Where are you taking me?” Her voice was frantic. Maybe she’d fallen asleep and woken up confused, like when you spend the night at someone’s house and open your eyes to unfamiliar surroundings, except multiplied by ten because she was trashed.

“Remember? I’m taking you home from the party? Chesterview, right?” Recognition flashed in her squinted eyes. Under the streetlights, she looked like the portrait of an addict—smudged eyeliner, bloodshot eyes, tangled hair. She’d probably started the night gorgeous before her shot-induced makeover.

“You know Beth,” she said slowly. Her hand gripped the door handle, pulling it closer.

“Close your door, and let’s talk about it. I want you to be safe.” I felt like a negotiator at a crime scene.

She clunked it shut in slow motion. It wasn’t tight, and I didn’t argue.

“Please don’t take me like her.” Her voice was timid.

“Like her? What do you mean
like her
?”

“Beth. Like someone took her.”

I wanted to give her a lecture.
Don’t ever get in a car with a stranger! What were you thinking? I could have kidnapped you and taken you anywhere.
I wanted to give myself a lecture for driving her home instead of finding her friend, Rachael.

Then again, maybe she’d just trusted her instincts and common sense. Passing out in the middle of the woods surrounded by horny guys: bad. Driving home with a silly looking female who seems to care about your best friend: not as bad?

“You have no reason to trust me,” I admitted. “But I will get you home safely, and I want to help Beth do the same.”

I glanced away from the road at her. Her eyes were closed again. I locked the doors with a press of a button and re-clicked her seatbelt. Then I started contemplating how to find her house and get a semiconscious teen inside.

I drove around near the mall, hoping to run into Chesterview. No luck. I needed a navigation system.
Wait a minute
, I thought,
you can do things the old-fashioned way
. I pulled into a gas station, parked in front, locked the door, and left April conked out.

“Do you know where Chesterview Street, or Avenue, or something, is?” I asked the skinny, middle-aged woman at the counter. I kept my eye on the glass entryway to make sure April didn’t bolt.

“Yep.” Her voice was husky and her remaining teeth were brown. She pointed a fake, red nail at the window. “You take this street here a mile. Then you take a left at the first light. It’ll come up pretty fast after that. I don’t know how many blocks down.”

“Thank you so much,” I said. “Have a good night.” I gave her a smile, hurried back to the car, and slammed the door behind me. April didn’t notice, which got me thinking. I used a pen to write on her hand. It was the only place I could think of where she’d definitely see it tomorrow.

“Let’s find Beth,” I wrote, followed by my email address. I smiled to myself, knowing it would take several hand washings for the ink to disappear. Sophie had written on herself enough times for me to learn that. Just to make sure, I traced over each letter.

I backed out slowly to keep April steady and made my way to her street. Addresses were on the mailboxes, so it was easy to find 515, a tiny single family with a long driveway—long enough that I knew April would never make it from the street. I pulled up to the garage and jostled her.

“April? April. April!”

Her eyes flew open. “What?”

“It’s okay,” I said. “You’re home.” I pointed to the house and watched her eyes register it.

I walked around the van and gave her my hand for support as she stepped down. Wobbly steps got her to the front door, where she rifled through her purse to find keys under a mountain of lipsticks.

“I like to mix the colors,” she said. “I wanna be a cosmetologist.”

I smiled softly at her bedraggled face and the irony of her statement. Given her state, I was impressed she’d even pronounced the word.

“The red one,” she said, referencing a key, not a lip color. She handed me the set, which included only two keys, each with a different colored plastic top. It made life seem so simple. Two keys, two responsibilities, two places to be. My chain was heavy, and I didn’t even know why. The red key fit perfectly in the doorknob, and I turned it gently.

“See,” I whispered. “Home safe.” I held her hand and turned it palm up. “Here’s my information so you don’t lose it.” She looked at the writing in surprise. “If we can talk, maybe I can find Beth.”

The cool, quiet darkness of the front porch was interrupted by a burst of light, making both of us jump, which meant April, who had begun to slip through the open door, was about to tumble. I grabbed her arm and pitched forward, looking into a face I didn’t know, but an expression I did—one of a tired, about-to-blow mom.

My first instinct was to turn and run. My second was to apologize, but I didn’t know for what. So I plastered on the most understanding smile I could, silently beaming the message, “It’s okay. I’m a mom, too.” The woman’s look of confusion, annoyance and up-and-down appraisal reminded me that my appearance was more disturbing than comforting. Then again, her daughter’s was worse.

“Who are you?” she demanded.

I winced. What did she want to hear?

“I’m Nicki, another mom.” April looked surprised at this. “I gave April a ride home because her friend ditched her.”

“Oh.” She took a moment to consider this and assess me again. Her gaze shifted to April. “Rachael did that?”

“Yeah,” April said quietly. She self-consciously tucked a chunk of straggly black hair behind her ear and looked down. “She saw her boyfriend and left me. I don’t feel good. I’m going upstairs.” April’s eyes locked with mine. “Thanks,” she added. She started up the steps.

Nice escape. Her mom let her go and stared at me.

“April doesn’t look like she was at the movies.”

“I’d rather let her tell you the story, if that’s okay,” I said meekly. “I don’t know much. Just that she needed a safe ride. And that she couldn’t drive herself.” I didn’t want to get April in trouble and make her angry. Yet I didn’t want to piss off her mom, either.

“I don’t have a clue who you are, and you brought my daughter home drunk. I’d like to know what happened. Now.” Her dark eyes matched the roots of her blond hair. Its layers stood out in all directions and fit with her rumpled pajamas, the pattern so faded I couldn’t make it out. She must have been sleeping or at least tossing and turning.

“I totally understand.” I leaned on the door jamb. My body and brain were worn out, and the last thing I wanted to do was come in. I looked at my feet and scrunched my toes in apprehension.

“Well,” I started. “I’m Nicki, and I met April at a party. I was actually looking for a friend of hers, Beth.”

I watched her expression change from accusing to interested—maybe even kind. Her eyebrows were arched, but everything else had softened.

“Oh.”

“I was talking to April, and it was clear she didn’t feel well and needed a ride. I was worried about her, so I brought her home. You should keep an eye on her tonight because she’s been throwing up.” I grimaced involuntarily.

She glanced upstairs and let out an exasperated sigh. “Can you find your way to the kitchen?” she asked, motioning toward the back of the house. “I want to hear more, but I have to check on April. Make yourself at home.”

I found my way to a kitchenette with a cracked wooden table and two folding chairs by a window. I turned on an overhead light and tried not to imagine how crazy I must look. I peered around in search of a mirror or powder room. A shiny toaster would have been okay, too. Nothing.

After a few minutes, April walked by with her mom, reclined in a nearby easy chair, and passed out instantly. Her mom covered her with a blanket.

“I know I look ridiculous dressed like this,” I said when she returned. “I’m sorry. I was trying to fit in with the kids so they’d talk to me.” I noticed she’d run a comb through her hair.

She put water in a kettle and turned on a burner. “Tea?” she offered.

“Sure. Thanks.”

“My name’s Jen, by the way,” she said as she pulled flowered mugs from a cabinet. “And I’m confused. Who are you? And how do you know Beth?”

“It’s complicated,” I said while I tried to think of an explanation. She set the cups on the table and added tea bags.

“Milk or sugar?”

“No thanks,” I answered. “Honestly, I don’t know Beth, but I’m very worried about her situation. Even if she left on purpose, it’s incredibly dangerous. I’m really just an outsider who wants to help.”

She leaned against the kitchen counter and folded her arms. “Don’t get me wrong. I’m glad someone’s looking out for her. But again, why
you
?” There was an awkward pause. Then her mouth dropped open. “You’re not the adoptive mom, are you?”

“No,” I answered. “I’m investigating because...” I paused, wanting to protect Kenna’s privacy. “Because someone asked me to—someone I can’t name right now. But I promise you, they have Beth’s best interests at heart.”

“Is it her parents?”

“No,” I said truthfully.

“Good. Because I have a major problem with them.”

“Really? What is it?”

“They were so upset about the adoption they practically kicked her out. She came here crying a lot.” She shook her head and made a
tsk
sound. “Can you imagine treating your kid like that? It’s like they were so pissed about losing a grandbaby that they lost a daughter, too. Excuse my language.”

I held up a hand. “No problem whatsoever. It sounds like you know Beth pretty well.”

“I do. She and April have been best friends since ninth grade. And I don’t think she ran away. She knows she could have come here.”

“Isn’t this the first place her parents would look for her?”

“Sure. It’s the first place everyone, including the police, looked. Where else would she go? It kills me. Just kills me! To picture her alone somewhere.” Her voice trailed off.

“You and April can’t imagine
anywhere
she would go?”

“Nope. We’ve racked our brains. April’s talked to other kids too. She won’t say much about it, but that birth father, Marcus, he’s bad news. You know he wouldn’t have anything to do with the baby, right?”

“That’s what I heard.”

“Beth approached him several times. At first he got pissed and denied it, and then he damn well ignored her—acted like she didn’t exist. I don’t know if he ever admitted it was his.”

“But it
is
his?”

“Has to be. April and Beth act tough. They try to look tough. But they keep to themselves a lot. I wouldn’t be surprised if that was Beth’s first time, if you know what I mean.”

“Of course. So when was the last time April saw Beth?”

“A week ago Sunday. I know it was a Sunday, because April and Beth had a big test Monday. They studied here that night, and April drove Beth home—even watched her go in the house. But the next morning, Beth wasn’t at school, and no one knew where she was. Her parents said they never heard her come home the previous night.”

“What time did April drop her off?”

“About eleven, April said.”

“And April was home on time?”

“She didn’t break her curfew. I know that. I was asleep, but if she’d come home after midnight, I’d remember. She always checks in with me.”

“This is so helpful,” I said. “I appreciate that you’re willing to talk with me. Is it okay if I call April tomorrow and talk some more?”

“Fine by me as long as you don’t get her in trouble. I don’t want that gangster to think April’s snitching on him. She hates talking about him. She’s scared. After what he might have done to Beth, what if April’s next?”

She poured water into our mugs.

“I’ll be more than careful,” I said. “You have my word.”

Just what I needed. Another child’s welfare in my hands.