Pivot Point (Pivot Point #1)

Pivot Point (Pivot Point #1) Page 37

“Her parents haven’t seen her since this morning. But just because she isn’t at home, doesn’t mean that something has happened to her. An officer is stationed at her house, so when she comes back he can inform me immediately.” He goes to the closet and pulls out a duffel bag. “And I promise to keep you updated.”

“Updated? Where are you going?”

He puts the bag on top of his dresser and starts loading clothes into it. “Most of the time, a video of an interview is all I need to determine if someone is lying or not. But Mr. Paxton is an expert liar, so I need to feel his energy to confirm some findings. We’re hoping that if he happens to know where Laila is, we can get that information from him as well. The Bureau is flying me there in an hour. I’d like you to call a friend to come stay with you while I’m gone.”

“A friend? I don’t have any friends.”

“I’ve met several of your friends. What about that Stephanie girl? She seems nice.”

I have a death grip on the corner of his sheet. “I want to come with you.”

“I’m sorry. This is a private Bureau jet, and you don’t have clearance.”

“Can’t they give me clearance? This is my best friend we’re talking about here. Please, Dad.”

“Addison, I’m sorry. There are policies for a reason. I can’t be worrying about your safety if we want to find Laila. Do you understand?”

“Of course I do.”

He zips up his bag. “Promise me you’ll call a friend,” he says, then studies my face as I prepare to answer.

I avert my gaze. “I don’t lie to you, Dad. No need to analyze me.”

“I’m sorry. I know you don’t. And I’m grateful for the trust that gives me in you. I hope you can trust me again one day too.” He starts to put his hands on my shoulders but stops. I can’t reassure him in this moment. There are too many feelings swirling around in my chest to sort them all out. He disappears into the bathroom, and when he comes out he’s dressed in a suit. He gives me a worried look.

“I’ll call a friend.”

“Thank you. I’ll let you know as soon as I land.” He kisses my forehead.

I hug him tight, and then he is gone and I stand in his room all alone, rubbing my arms. The clock on his nightstand reads 3:30 a.m. The screen of my cell phone is still black. When I run my finger across it, the light makes me squint. I go to my phone book, hesitant to call Trevor this late. I stop on my mom’s number, and my thumb shakes as it hovers over the Call button. I finally let it fall and listen to it ring four times.

“Addie? What’s wrong?” her sleep-deepened voice answers.

“It’s Laila. She’s missing. Dad’s on his way home. It’s bad, Mom.”

I hear her bedside light click on. “What?” she says at first, and then processes the information without me having to repeat it. “Oh, Addie, I’m sorry. What can I do?”

“I don’t know. I’m scared.”

We share a few quiet breaths. I know she’s angry with me for shutting her out. I wonder if she’s going to hold it against me now.

“I’m going to make some calls, see if I can help. When they find Laila, I should be there for her, since her parents probably won’t.”

Hot tears fall down my cheeks. “That would be great, Mom. Thanks.”

“Why don’t you call Trevor? I’m sure he would come over.”

“How do you know about …” I wipe my face with the back of my hand.

“Laila has kept me updated. I miss you. Trevor sounds great, Addie.”

I smile a little. “I miss you too.”

“Everything is going to be fine, okay?”

“Okay.” I start to think that maybe it is.

I hang up. I want to call Trevor, but it’s so early. I text him instead. Call me when you wake up. It’s important.

Less than five minutes later, my phone rings. “Are you okay? What’s going on?” he asks. I explain to him what’s happening.

“I’m on my way.”

Trevor shows up, his disheveled hair proving he rushed, and wraps his arms around me. “I’m so sorry.”

“She’s going to be okay,” I say into his chest.

“Of course she is. She probably has no idea we’re all worried about her and is just hanging out with some friends.”

I want to nod my head and agree, even though my stomach is trying to tell me the opposite as it churns and bubbles with unease. He leads me to the couch, sits me down, and pries my phone out of my hands, setting it on the coffee table.

“What do you need?” he asks. “Water?”

I shake my head no.

“A milk shake?”

“Ugh.”

He sits down next to me. “I wish I had that power to soothe your emotions like we gave Russell in the book.”

I lean into him. “No, I’m glad you don’t. I don’t like to have false emotions.”

“I’ll be right back.”

“Don’t go.” I know I sound like a child.

“But I brought books. Some really boring classics from my dad’s library.”

I smile and sit up so he can stand. He comes back holding a few books. “Do you want me to read to you?”

“Yes.”

He settles into the corner of the couch and lifts his arm. I lie alongside him. He’s an amazing reader, pausing at the right times, putting emphasis in just the right places. And the tone of his voice is so soothing, it makes me wish he were more talkative. “You do have the power to soothe my emotions,” I say when he pauses to turn a page. “Thank you.”

He squeezes my arm, and I kiss him. For the first time today I feel relaxed enough that I know I can perform a Search and hopefully help Laila. I try to formulate a choice that will most likely give me the information I need.

My phone rings, and we both turn toward it. “Will you get it?” I ask, my anxiety instantly returning.

He picks it up. I scoot back, as if putting distance between myself and the phone means any bad news won’t be able to reach me.

“Hello? … Hi, Mr. Coleman, this is Trevor.… It wasn’t a problem at all.” After this there is a long pause. Trevor nods and grabs my hand. “Did you want to talk to her? … Okay, here she is.”

He hands me the phone and inches toward me. His face blurs through my tears.

“Hello?”

“Hi, baby.” I know pity when I hear it.

I wipe my eyes, hoping that with clear vision, a clear mind will follow. “What’s going on?”

He’s quiet for a while, and I can picture his face in my mind, the way it looks, serious and thoughtful, when he tries to formulate the perfect words. “It’s Laila.”

“Did you find her?” I say, hope filling my chest.

“We did … she’s gone.”

“Gone where?”

“Addie, she’s dead. I’m so sorry.”

My mind, most likely in an attempt at self-preservation, goes completely blank.

My dad continues. “It wasn’t Mr. Paxton. Mr. Paxton gave us the name of a kid from your school who is responsible, but it was too late.”

“A kid from my school?”

“Yes, Bobby Baker. Do you know him?”

I nod, too dumbfounded to realize he can’t see me. Finally I stutter out, “M-maybe he’s l-lying. Maybe he just doesn’t want you to find her.” Bobby may be a jerk, but I never thought him capable of something this serious.

“He’s telling the truth. We’ve already taken Bobby into custody. I’ve interviewed him. Bobby is responsible.”

“But maybe Bobby just thinks she’s dead, and that’s why you got the read that he’s telling the truth. Maybe—”

“I saw her.” His words effectively crush my attempt at denial. “She’s gone.”

I must’ve dropped the phone, because Trevor is holding it and saying something to my dad. Then he hangs up and pulls me against him, smoothing my hair and telling me he’s sorry over and over. I can barely feel him or hear him.

Then his mouth is next to my ear. “Addison, listen to me. Are you listening?” I nod, and he continues. “You don’t pick this. This has to be a Search. There’s no way you would pick this. Everything will be okay.”

I wrap my arms around him. He’s right, and I love him for saying it.

CHAPTER 35

PAR-A-site: n. a person who benefits from others while offering no benefit in return

Bobby turns away from the heavily secured door.

“Can I use your phone?” I need to call my dad and let him know I’m okay in case Poison calls him back.

“Sure, but where is yours?”

“I left it in my car.”

He peers out the long window next to the door. “I didn’t see your car out there.”

I point vaguely to the right. “I parked up the street.”

He smiles as if he knows why. “My cell is in my room. I’ll go get it.” He moves toward the stairs.

“You don’t have a house phone?”

“Does anyone anymore?”

I shrug. “We do.”

He disappears upstairs, and I move to the front window, parting the drapes to create a small gap. First I glance to the left at the streetlight where Poison stood earlier. He’s not there, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t out there, waiting. Next my gaze shifts to Laila’s truck across the street. I want to hurl a rock at it. Duke’s window is dark, and I can’t help but wonder if they are up there, in his room.

“What did my curtains ever do to you?” Bobby asks from behind me.

I quickly release the material I’m crushing in my fist and turn to face him. “Sorry.”

“Bad news. My cell phone is dead. Let me plug it in and you should be able to use it in a few minutes.”

“Maybe I should just go.”

“It will just take a few minutes. Do you really want to go out there with that freak? I think we should call the Bureau too, when the phone is charged.”

Good idea. “Yeah, okay.”

“The charger is in the kitchen. I’ll be right back.” He walks through a swinging door separating the main room from what I assume is the kitchen.

I double-check the front door’s slider. It’s locked into place. The room is dim, so I turn on a lamp that’s sitting on the end table. Bobby comes back with a bottle of water that he hands to me. “Have a seat.” He points to the couch. I back away from it and opt for the piano bench.

“Where are your parents?” I’m beginning to wonder if they’re ever home.

“They work early, so they’re already asleep.” He points at a clock on the wall, and I see that it’s after ten. Did I really sit in the car waiting for Duke for over an hour?

I take a sip of water and look down at my feet. “You’re his best friend.… How long has he been …” I can’t even finish the thought. I don’t want to know how long my best friend has been betraying me with my boyfriend. “He was using me.”