Want to Go Private? (17 page)

CHAPTER 15
LILY
DECEMBER 8 12:30 A.M.

I’m
soooo
tired. I’m tired of hearing the same questions over and over and over. Detective Larson from the Youth Division is here with Officer Gans. I had to tell them all the same stuff I told Officer Carozza. I don’t get it. Why can’t they just talk to each other or read each other’s notes or something?

The same questions: What happened when you got home? Did you try calling her cell phone? Have you called her friends? Is Abby normally reliable? Have you noticed any change in her recently? Have her grades slipped at all? Does she spend a lot of time online?

But then Detective Larson lobs out one we haven’t heard before:

“Mr. and Mrs. Johnston, is Abby promiscuous?”

I’m not sure what
promiscuous
means, but the question sure pisses Dad off. His face turns bright red and he half rises out of his chair, shouting, “
How dare you!
” before Mom puts her hand on his arm to push him back down and shut him up.

“Detective, Abby has barely been on any dates,” Mom says. “She’s a good girl. She went on a church retreat last summer.”

“And she is
not
promiscuous,” Dad growls, his arms crossed firmly across his chest.

Okaay … So I’m guessing
promiscuous
means being all slutty and stuff. Nah. Not Abby. She’s too busy being a boring nerd with no life. Wait. I don’t mean no life. Please let her have a life. Even if it is a boring, nerdy one
.

“And you fought the night before she left about … grades, was it?”

“That’s right,” Mom says. She sounds as tired as I feel. “She brought down her math test for me to sign because she’d gotten a D. I know it might not sound like the end of the world, Detective, but if you knew Abby — math is one of her best subjects and she normally gets A’s and A-pluses. So for her to get a D, well …”

“So her grades have been slipping. Have you noticed that Abby seemed less involved with the family recently?”

“I haven’t noticed that,” Dad says.

“Well,
you
wouldn’t,” I say. “
You’re
never here.”

I see the detective’s pen move across his pad. If my father had killer vision, I’d be seriously dead right now.

Mom steps in to keep World War III from breaking out.

“My husband started his own accounting firm a year ago, so he’s been working very long hours.” She smiles at the detective. “You know how it is.”

He nods but keeps writing.

“Abby was very angry last night. She said … she …”

Mom puts her hand over her eyes.

“She said she … hated me.”

Her shoulders heave with suppressed sobs. Dad puts his arm around her and murmurs something I can’t hear.

“Detective, is it my fault she’s gone?” Mom asks. “If anything happens to her, I don’t know what I’ll do.”

“Of course it’s not your fault, Kate,” Dad says. “Don’t say that.”

Mom thinks it’s her fault. Dad doesn’t seem to think it’s his fault, not at all. But deep down, in a place I don’t want to go, or let some police officer pry, I know it’s because of me, and I don’t know how I’m going to live in this family if something really bad happens to Abby.

“Do you have a recent picture of Abby that I can have?” Detective Larson asks.

“Yes,” Dad says. “I’ll get one.”

He goes to print one off his computer, leaving Mom and me with the detective.

“When I get back to headquarters, I’m going to enter Abby’s data into the NCIC computer system. That’s the FBI’s National Crime Information Center. We also have a special computer system provided to us by the National Center for Missing and Exploited Children. I can scan the picture you give me into it and generate a flyer that will be distributed to all the departments in the area. We’ll also have our patrol officers check out the local parks and other teen hangouts.”

“But, Detective,” Mom sniffs. “Abby’s not a hanger outer. She just … isn’t. It’s not her.”

“Mrs. Johnston, we have to investigate all the possibilities, especially until we see what the forensic analysts find on Abby’s computer.”

Dad comes back with, like, five pictures of Abby, as if he doesn’t get that this is for a picture on a milk carton, not a freaking modeling portfolio. Somehow, I don’t think being on
America’s Next Top Model
was ever part of Abby’s plan.

“I wasn’t sure which one was best, so …”

The detective takes all of them.

“Great. We’ll figure out which one works for the poster. We’ll be interviewing Abby’s friends and trying to get a picture of what went on today” — he glances at his watch — “er … yesterday … and I’ll try to see if I can put some pressure on the forensic team to expedite the work on Abby’s computer. Unfortunately, they’ve got a big backlog, so we’re always fighting for priority.”

He sees Dad open his mouth to argue but he raises his hand and continues. “Believe me, Mr. Johnston, we take missing minors seriously and we’ll do everything we can to bring Abby back home safely. In the meantime, you call me if you hear from her or if you think of anything else that might help with the investigation, okay?”

Mom and Dad nod.

The detective’s cell phone rings. “Larson … Yep … Good. I’ll be back soon.”

He closes his cell and tells us that they’ve made arrangements to have officers interview Faith at six thirty tomorrow morning since she saw Abby after we did.

“So early?” Mom says.

“Every minute counts,” Detective Larson tells her.

Mom looks like she’s about to crumple in on herself. I feel like I’m going to throw up, even though we never ate dinner and there’s not really anything in my stomach. And Dad … I don’t ever in a million years want to see that look on his face again.

CHAPTER 16
FAITH
DECEMBER 8 5:45 A.M.

Dad shakes me awake at five forty-five a.m. “Faith, honey, the police will be here at six thirty to talk to you about Abby,” he says. “Mom’s got coffee on in the kitchen.”

I’m totally out of it, but I go take a shower to try to bring myself back into the land of the living. I just can’t believe this is happening. It’s like some really awful nightmare that I should be able to pinch myself and wake up from, except I am awake and it’s real. Abby’s still missing and I keep wondering over and over if I could have done something to stop this from happening.

By the time I get dressed and blow-dry my hair, Mom and Dad are sitting at the kitchen table with a guy in a jacket and tie and another in a police uniform.

“Faith, this is Detective Larson,” Mom says. “And this is Officer Gans. They want to ask you about when you last saw Abby.”

“Can you describe when you last saw Abby Johnston and what she was wearing?” the detective asks me.

I tell him about the bus yesterday. About Abby in the green, fuzzy sweater that matched her eyes, and the fact that she was wearing makeup, when she didn’t always make an effort. How
she seemed in a good mood, and her backpack seemed heavier than usual. How she lied to me about studying for the math test, but I didn’t pick up on it at the time.

“Is Abby a habitual liar?” Officer Gans asks.

“No! Not at all,” I protest. “Abby was … I mean Abby
is
my best friend. We’ve always told each other the truth about everything — well, until now, I guess. She has been kind of … I don’t know … moody lately. And she doesn’t tell me everything like she used to. Like about this guy she met at the church retreat.”

“Tell us more about Abby’s friend from the retreat,” Detective Larson says.

“That’s the thing. I don’t really know that much. She was kind of weird about him. Like, I couldn’t believe she didn’t tell me about him right away when she met him. We always tell each other everything — or at least we used to. But with this guy, it was this big secret. I thought she liked Billy Fisher. She even went out on a date with him. But then, she kept, I don’t know, blowing hot and cold on the poor guy. I felt sorry for him because Billy’s such a nice guy and I think he really likes Abby. And then, suddenly, out of the blue, she was talking about this mystery guy from the retreat.”

“Did she mention a name?” Officer Gans asks.

“No. Until yesterday she never even talked about me meeting him.” I see them exchanging glances. “Like, normally we’d be talking about our crushes constantly. But Abby was kind of …”

I feel tears welling up, and it’s hard to admit this in front of my parents.

“Abby was pulling away from me recently. Like she didn’t always sit with me on the bus in the morning and sometimes
when I IM’ed her she’d ignore me, even though I could see she was online.”

Mom reaches out, puts her hand over mine, and squeezes. Dad hands me a napkin to blow my nose.

“Do you know what websites Abby likes to go on?” Detective Larson asks me.

“Sure,” I sniff. “She’s on Facebook, and we use MSN to chat. But her favorite’s ChezTeen.com.”

“That’s a new one to me,” he says. “Can you spell that?”

“C-H-E-Z-T-E-E-N dot com,” I tell him. “It’s newish, but it’s such a cool site.”

“Does it have private chat rooms?” Officer Gans asks.

I nod.

“Do you have to be friends to chat, or can anyone chat with you?”

“Anyone can chat with you,” I tell him. “It’s like being in a real-life café or at a concert. That’s what’s so cool about it.”

“That’s what’s so dangerous about it, Faith,” my dad says. “I didn’t realize you were going on sites like that.”

“But, Dad, I don’t talk to creepy people. I only talk to people I know, like Abby and Gracie and other kids from school.”

“Did Abby talk to people she didn’t know?”

“No. I mean, I don’t think so…. Well … maybe … once that I know of. It was ages ago, like right before school started. We were chatting about what we were going to wear for the first day and some guy started talking to us about what we were wearing and music and stuff.”

“Do you remember his screen name?”

I rack my brain, trying to remember, but I can’t.

“All I remember is that he said he was already out of
high school, so I IM’ed Abby on MSN and told her maybe we shouldn’t be talking to him because he might be a perv or something.”

“Good thinking,” Mom says.

“Abby said it didn’t matter because it wasn’t like we were telling him where we lived or anything, which was true. We were talking about music mostly. I think he and Abby liked a lot of the same music — like it was really weird, their top twenty iPod songs were practically identical. He said they were musical soul mates or something totally corny like that.”

My parents exchange glances with the police officer.

“What? Is Abby going to be okay?”

“Faith, there’s a possibility that Abby might have gone to meet someone she met online,” Officer Gans says. “Does the name Luke Redmond ring a bell?”

I shake my head.

“Luke? Is that the guy from the church retreat?”

“If there
is
a guy from the church retreat,” Detective Larson says. “We’ll be speaking to the youth director at Abby’s church later today.”

Did you lie about that, too, Abby? What happened to my friend
?

I’m scared for Abby but now I’m mad, too. Mad at her for lying to me. Mad at her for lying to all of us.
Why, Abby? Why
?!

CHAPTER 17
BILLY
DECEMBER 8 6:30 A.M.

I thought Dad was going to beat the crap out of me last night when he told me the police were coming this morning to interview me “in connection with Abigail Johnston.”

“
Police?
” I said, my mouth dry all of a sudden. “Why? What’s up with Abby?”

“Well, apparently the young lady is
missing
.”

I felt like someone sucker punched me.

“Abby? … Missing? … Since when?! I saw her in science yesterday and …”

She looked so gorgeous in that green, fuzzy sweater that matched her eyes perfectly
.

My mother came and stood in the doorway to my room.

“Billy, isn’t Abby the same girl who came here for a study date? The one who you went to the movies with?”

“Yeah. Like I said, she’s in my science class. I don’t understand, she was there yesterday morning —”

She said that it was safer to kiss a dog than a human. Was that a blow-off or just a scientific fact
?

“Her mother called earlier to see if she was here,” Mom said.

“I thought it was strange, because you haven’t seen her or talked about her lately.”

“Her
mom
called here? When? Why didn’t you tell me?”

Mom shrugged.

Of course my dad started to think the worst of me right from the beginning.

“Son, you didn’t … force yourself on this girl, did you?”

I would have laughed out loud if I didn’t think my dad would have smacked me for doing it.
My own father thinks I raped a girl
. Me, the guy who never even made it to second base.

Mom blew a gasket.

“Will, how can you even
think
such an
awful thing
about your
own son
? Billy would
never
do a thing like that —”

Good to know at least one of my parents trusts me to do the right thing
.

“Sandy! I asked Billy a question and I want him to answer.”

I squared my shoulders and looked my dad straight in the eye.

“No, Dad. I did not
force myself
on Abby. Are you happy now?”

“Don’t be fresh with me, kid. I’m just trying to find out why the
police
are coming to investigate
my son
.”

“Maybe because I
saw
Abby yesterday? Like, before she went
missing
?”

“That makes sense, Will,” Mom said.

Dad seemed to calm down a little. But only a little.

“The police will be here at six forty-five. Make sure you’re up and dressed. And brush your hair, for Pete’s sake. You don’t want to look like a slob in front of the police.”

Yeah, because with Abby missing, MY HAIR is the first thing they’re going to care about. Right
.

“Will do, Dad.”

When my alarm goes off at six I want to smash it to smithereens. It was hard to sleep after my little heart-to-heart with Dad. Instead, I hit the
OFF
button with my fist and drag my tired, sorry butt out of bed and down the hall into the shower.

I keep seeing Abby’s face through the steam. The way she looked in the flickering light of the movie we barely watched right before we kissed for the first time. How she laughed at me yesterday morning in science when I made the comment about not eating my own poop or licking my … yeah. At least I didn’t finish the joke, which was that it wasn’t for lack of trying. The private licking part, that is.

Abby, where are you? How could you just be here one day and gone the next?

I’m just heading downstairs to get some breakfast, my hair neatly brushed, when the doorbell rings. I check my watch. Six forty-five on the nose. These guys are prompt.

Mom tells me to hurry up and eat something — she’ll get the door. I grab a PowerBar and pour myself a glass of milk.

I hear the guys identifying themselves, showing Mom and Dad their badges, then Mom shows them into the fancy living room, the one we hardly ever use.

Dad comes into the kitchen.

“Hurry up. Make sure you look them in the eye when you answer their questions and call them ‘sir’ or ‘officer.’ And tuck in your shirt, for chrissake!”

I follow him into the living room, where Mom stands with the two police officers. They have handcuffs on their belts. And guns.
Holy crap
.

“Good morning, Billy. I’m Sergeant Marr,” the taller one says. “And this is Officer Conner.”

I make sure to look him in the eye when I say, “Good morning, sir.”

“Please have a seat,” Mom says. “Would you like some coffee?”

Next thing you know she’s going to be cooking these guys breakfast while I’m here shitting a brick
.

“No, thanks. We’re good,” Officer Conner says.

I sit in the chair closest to the door. My leg starts jumping up and down the way it always does when I’m nervous.

“So, Billy, can you tell us about when you last saw Miss Johnston?” Sergeant Marr says, pulling a notebook out of his pocket.

“Uh … it was yesterday. Fourth period. In science. We did a lab together. Abby’s my lab partner.”

“What time is fourth period?”

“It starts at ten after ten and ends at eleven.”

“Did anything seem out of the ordinary about Abby’s behavior in class yesterday?” Officer Conner asks.

I try to think back to yesterday morning, but all I can think is that Abby is gone. That she’s
disappeared
, like those kids on the milk cartons. That someone could be hurting her right now while we’re sitting around in my parents’ fancy living room, talking. I want to throw up.

“I … don’t know … I —”

“Take a minute,” Sergeant Marr says.

The two officers are watching me intently and I suddenly think,
Holy crap! Do they think I had anything to do with this? Yeah, I have a serious crush on the girl, but we just went to the movies once and then she’s pretty much been driving me crazy since then, being friendly but always running away when I try to ask her out again. Does that give me motive? Oh, man. But I HAVEN’T. DONE. ANYTHING
.

I put my head in my hands to blot out the police and my parents, who are staring at me, too, and try to focus on science class yesterday. Abby. How cute she looked in that green, fuzzy sweater; how it brought out the color of her eyes and made me want to rub my hands all over her back. How cold her hands were when I took them in mine, because she said she’d had too much caffeine and she was jittery. And —

“She kept looking at the clock the whole time. All through class. I asked her if she had a train to catch. She said she was hungry because she hadn’t had breakfast, and she was counting down to lunch, so … I snuck her some of my Snickers bar.”

I cast an anxious glance at Dad. “We’re not supposed to eat in the classrooms and especially peanuts and stuff, but her hands were all trembling and cold when she got to class…. She said she’d had too much caffeine.”

Sergeant Marr is jotting stuff in his notebook while I’m talking. I wonder if any of this is important. I’m scared that they think I might have something to do with whatever happened to Abby.
Please let her be okay
.

“Were you close to Miss Johnston?” Officer Conner asks.

Oh, man. Here it comes
. I wonder if they’re going to do the
Good Cop/Bad Cop thing, like they do in the movies. I’m trying to figure out which one is going to be the Good Cop.

“I don’t know if I’d say ‘close.’ I mean, I really like her and I asked her out. We went to the movies once, and I had a great time and —”

“What movie did you see?” Officer Conner asks.

Despite my nerves, I swallow a laugh, remembering how little we actually saw of it. Laughing would not be at all cool right now. Not cool at all.

“Uh
… Zombies vs. Aliens from Outer Space
.”

“Sounds like a great date movie,” he says, but it’s clear he means the total opposite. “What did you think of it?”

“It was okay.” I try to remember something the reviews said, but totally space. All I can think of was how sweet it was when I felt Abby’s lips for the first time.

“How long ago was this?”

“Um … it was the second weekend of October.”

“And did you and Miss Johnston see each other after that?” asks Sergeant Marr.

“Well, yeah. Every day in class. And I was … you know, hoping we’d go out on a date again. But …”

“But she turned you down?” he says.

Thanks. Rub it in, why don’t you
?

“Not exactly. The first time I asked her, she was busy. And then … it’s just … I don’t know…. She always seemed to be distracted or in a hurry whenever I wanted to talk.”

Sergeant Marr’s face doesn’t show any expression, but Officer Conner gives me this look like
Don’t you know a blow-off when you see it, dude
? I’m getting the impression he’s the one playing Bad Cop.

“Did you ever correspond with Abby online?”

“We’re friends on Facebook. But mostly we talked in class.”

“Did Abby ever mention anyone named Luke Redmond to you?”

For the second time in less than twelve hours, I get that sucker-punched feeling.
Was Abby dating someone else? Is that why
…

“Son, the police officer asked you a question,” Dad says.

I didn’t realize I’d been blown away into my own little world of total freak-outedness.

“No,” I say, shaking my head. “She definitely never talked to me about anyone named Luke.”

And looking straight at Officer Conner, I add, “Look, I might be a total moron, but I thought Abby liked me, kinda. I mean, even if she didn’t
like
me, like me, she definitely didn’t hate me, okay?”

“We’re just trying to cover every base so we can find Abby, Billy,” Sergeant Marr says. “No one’s accusing you of anything.”

“Is she going to be okay, Sergeant?”

It’s like a stare-off for a minute. I’m the one who looks away first.

“We’re doing everything we can to find her, son.”

He hands me his card.

“If you think of anything else that might help us, call me. Anytime.”