Need (16 page)

“Okay. But text me the minute you get there.”

Before her mom can change her mind, Hannah pulls on her boots, bundles into her thick purple coat, and tugs on her mittens. She carefully puts on her hat so her hair won't totally stand on end when she takes the hat off, and she wraps a scarf around her face. Her mom gives her a big hug and tells her to call when she's ready to be picked up from Lynn's. “I love you, Hannah,” she yells as Hannah opens the door.

Hannah looks back toward the foyer, where her mother stands in her sweatshirt and fuzzy red and white socks. The sound of laughter rings from the family room at the back of the house, along with someone shouting “You cheated!” And for a minute, Hannah wants nothing more than to stay here with her mom and her family. But she only has to think of Nate waiting for her and she is yelling a careless “Love you too” as she races outdoors into the snow.

When the school comes into sight, her teeth are chattering and she's covered with snow, which is falling more heavily than it was when she left the house. A car is headed down the road and her heart leaps as she peers through the white flurry, hoping to see Nate behind the wheel. But the car doesn't slow down.

Tired of the cold, she runs toward the door to the building nearest the gymnasium, where she told Nate she could get them inside. Nate is nowhere to be seen. Disappointment swirls hot and fast, but she tamps it down.
Nate will be here,
she thinks, and when she checks her phone she knows she's not just fooling herself.

Running late. Kaylee needed help. Go inside out of the cold. I'll be there soon. —Nate.

Ugh. Kaylee. For the last year, Hannah was sure Nate was hung up on Kaylee Dunham. Why? She had no idea. It's not like Kaylee's funny or especially smart or sexy. Although Hannah wishes she had the olive skin that makes Kaylee look tanned even in the winter. Whatever the reason, Nate always defends Kaylee and hangs out with her at lunch even though everyone else has written her off. And there's something about the way he talks to her . . .

But he has assured her that he and Kaylee are just friends, and now he's on his way to meet Hannah so they can have their first official date. Hannah uses a penlight to key in the security code and breathes a sigh of relief as the light on the code pad goes from red to green. Quickly she unlocks the door, steps inside, and sends her mother a message to say she arrived safe and sound. Now all Hannah needs is Nate.

She shakes off the snow and paces the dark hall, too scared of getting caught to turn on a light. The dark will be romantic when Nate gets here, but he's not here and the small penlight is barely enough to help her find the drinking fountain. Maybe she should freshen up just in case he brings a better light and will be able to see her face.

A metal click makes her smile. The door opens and she can see the outline of Nate as he walks through the door. He's here. Amanda would have told her to play hard to get and make him come to her. But she can't help it. She rushes toward him.

“I'm so glad you made it. It's kind of spooky in this place without the lights on. But I have this.”

She shines the light on the floor to make sure she doesn't stumble, and she smiles as he unwraps the scarf that covers his face. Then she sees the knife and screams.

“D
OGS
,” I
SAY
as Nate walks back into the room, bringing the smell of melted cheese and tomato sauce with him. While he's been waiting by the front door for the pizza he ordered that took forever due to the snow, I've been searching other social media sites for more information about the things NEED has asked people to do. I haven't eaten in hours, but after what I've seen I don't have much of an appetite.

“What?” he asks, setting the large box and stack of napkins on the floor.

“The photograph with all the blood. Mrs. Markham's three dogs are dead.” They were beagles, although what was done to them makes it impossible to tell in the photograph. I try to picture Mrs. Markham, but as much as I know I must have met her or seen her walking her dogs, I can't. For some reason that bothers me just as much as the blood and gore. “Something or someone attacked them.”

“Wow.” Nate runs a hand through his hair. “I guess we can rule out an animal attack. Unless, of course, the animal has learned to upload pictures to the Internet. I know it's terrible to say, but I'm glad it's dogs and not another person. After Amanda, it feels like anything is possible. You know?”

I know.

“There's more.” I push the image of the mangled flesh out of my head. Which is easier than it should be because there are other pictures to take its place.

“More?” Nate blinks. “What kind of more?”

“A bunch of people online are talking about Mrs. Frey getting arrested. She got into a fistfight with Lisa Jackson.”

“Pastor Frey's wife decked Ms. Jackson?”

Ms. Jackson teaches first grade. Her husband died last summer in a boating accident. I remember helping my mother make cookies to take to Ms. Jackson's house on the other side of town. Ms. Jackson is petite and fragile. The opposite of Mrs. Frey, with her big broad shoulders and accusing eyes that pass judgment on everything they see—especially me. She enjoys thinking she's better than everyone else. Better manners. Better family. Better everything. The look in her eyes might tell someone she wants to hit them, but the Bible in her hands says she would never stoop to the devil's level. Which is why everyone online is abuzz with her actions.

“Mrs. Frey screamed at Ms. Jackson, slapped her, and pulled her hair all in the middle of a prayer meeting. From the sounds of it, Ms. Jackson didn't just sit back and wait to get rescued either. She fought back.”

“Good for her. I can't say I'm sorry Mrs. Frey is hanging out in jail.”

Neither can I. But I can't feel good about it either. Or about all the relationship status changes that I've noticed since Nate's last visit. Mostly, I roll my eyes when I see one of my classmates publicize his or her her dating issues on social media, if I look at all. Unless I'm searching for my father, I typically avoid all of the social media sites. But today I was looking for anything out of the ordinary, which is why I noticed the twelve who made the change from
In a Relationship
to
Single.
I can't help but wonder what circumstances prompted those posts or the other disgruntled updates.

“That's not all,” I say as Nate grabs a slice of pizza and offers it to me. I shake my head, and start telling him about the break-ups and the other posts that could be connected to NEED. A missing cat. Shredded holiday decorations. Garbage strewn across the snow. A broken lock on someone's back door. All things that could be blamed on wild animals or a prank gone wrong. But the photos of the broken farmhouse mailbox, the tipped garbage cans, and official-looking papers filled with numbers posted on NEED tell me that there are other forces at work. Thankfully, I haven't found a picture of a dead cat. There's still hope the animal is huddled under a porch, waiting out the snow. I cling to that idea, wanting desperately to think that something is normal.

“Wow.” Nate shoves the last of his pizza slice into his mouth and pulls his phone out of his pocket. He looks at the screen, shakes his head, and puts the phone back in his pocket.

“What's wrong?” I ask. As if everything isn't wrong.

He swallows and shrugs. “Jack keeps asking where I am, which is just strange. I mean, he normally couldn't care less what I'm doing. But I've gotten six texts in the last two hours. He's asked if I'm with you or at Lynn's for the Amanda memorial or whether I want to catch a movie. This last one says Mom is looking for me.”

“Maybe she is.”

Nate grabs another piece of pizza. “Mom has her own phone. Trust me. If she wanted me home, she wouldn't be counting on Jack to get the job done. Whatever Jack is up to, I'm sure Mom doesn't know about it. And if everything you've seen online is true, I'm going to guess the bug up Jack's butt has to do with NEED. The question is how to get Jack to expose what he's up to so we can call the cops on him and bust everything wide open without NEED knowing you had anything to do with it.”

“Don't worry about me.”

“You can't stop me from worrying.” He puts down the pizza and leans toward me. “And now that I really think about it, maybe we have to just let the cops figure this out on their own and stay on the sidelines. You got a warning. NEED wants you to back off. You know me, I'd normally take that kind of message as a challenge, but after seeing what's going on . . .” He reaches out for my hand and wraps his fingers tightly around mine. “I don't want anything to happen to you.”

I can't breathe as his hand tightens its grip. The sarcastic humor is gone. The self-deprecation. I don't know what to say. I didn't yesterday. I don't today. But instead of the haze of confusion, this time his words make me feel safe. I still don't know if I'm ready for us to be more than friends, but Nate isn't giving me space to decide as he kisses me.

I wait for whatever I should be feeling. Excitement. Attraction. Whatever a kiss between us should bring. But all I feel is wooden and inept, wishing I knew how to respond to this, because I'm certain that in this moment something has changed that can never be changed back.

He presses me close. Then suddenly he leans back to look into my face. More than anything I want to look anywhere but at him. But there is no point in trying to pretend Nate didn't kiss me. So before he can crack a joke or something, I say, “I don't understand.”

“What's to understand? I kissed you.” Nate rolls his eyes and shrugs as if amused. But I can see the hurt under his composure.

“I figured out that part. What I don't understand is why.”

Nate shoves his hands into his pockets. “You're not all that bright. You know that, right?” His smile takes the sting out of his words. “You think I should be interested in Hannah or Lynn?”

That would make more sense than this.

“Hannah and Lynn only like me because they think they know me. They don't. No one does, except you.” The smile fades. “You know what my house is like. Jack comes first. Even when he's screwing up he's king. It's always been that way. I'm popular because Jack's popular. People just assume I'm like him. They don't bother to look beneath the surface and see that I couldn't care less about the things they do. You're the only one who sees me for who I am. And maybe I should have left it at that. I told myself I would. Now I'm worried I totally screwed things up. Did I?”

Yes. Maybe. I don't know. Excitement mixes with the confusion and worry, making it hard to know what I feel. Aren't the best relationships grounded in friendship? And yet, there's something off. Because Nate's right. I know him. And he's not telling the entire truth. So I don't either. “No.”

“Are you sure?” When I don't answer immediately, he pulls a crumpled flyer out of his back pocket. “Don't answer that yet. Not until I give you this.”

Relieved to be thinking about something other than our kiss, I smooth out the paper and look back at Nate. “You don't want me to miss the drugstore's New Year's blowout sale on Christmas decorations?”

Nate laughs. “Look at the other side.”

I flip the page and see Nate's handwriting scrawled across the back. His penmanship is doctor worthy. But this writing is unmistakable despite the hurried scribble. A phone number.

“I'm pretty sure it's your father's.”

My father.

I stare at the number and feel my breath catch. Suddenly NEED and the kiss and everything else disappears. All that matters is the hope I hold. “Are you sure? How?”

“I'm just that good.” Nate plops down on the bed. “Actually, I can't be one hundred percent sure the number will reach your dad. When I did a reverse search online, it came up as restricted. And no one answered when I called. But I can't imagine Richard Ward would have the number in his phone under your dad's name if it didn't belong to him. Do you agree?”

“You stole Richard Ward's phone?”

“No.” Nate grins. “But I'm flattered you think I could. The real story is more luck than anything else.” There's a ding and Nate's grin disappears as he fishes his phone out of his pocket. “Jack again. You'd think he could take a hint. Back to my amazing story. Where was I? Oh yeah—I dropped by the drugstore this afternoon and flirted with the airhead Jayleen, who was working the counter.” He gives me a questioning look.

“What?”

“Just hoping you might be jealous. Anyway, when I saw someone go into the restroom, I asked her if I could use the one in the office. She said yes. Mr. Ward's phone was on his desk, and the rest is history.”

I try not to get too excited. This is what I've been searching for. Months of my life, and here it is. But there's something not quite right about this whole scenario. Or maybe I'm just too used to bad things happening to believe in anything good.

“Mr. Ward just left his phone sitting out on his desk?” The man I've dealt with doesn't strike me as the type to trust his employees.

Nate stares at me for a moment, then says, “The phone was charging. I told you I got lucky.”

“And the phone wasn't password protected?”

“What's with all the questions?” Nate slides off the bed and stands. “The number belongs to your father. I thought you might be happy that I got it and you'd want to call him. Do whatever the hell you want with it. I'm out of here.”

“Wait.” The word bursts out of me and Nate stops in the doorway. “Don't go. I'm grateful. I am. It's just . . .”

“It's just what?”

I look down at the pizza box on the floor and give voice to my deepest fear. “What if he won't talk to me?”