CHAPTER FOURTEEN

It’s snowing lightly Friday morning. There are rumblings the search will be canceled until one of the organizers posts on Facebook. THE SEARCH FOR BAILEY IS ON!!! DRESS WARMLY AND IN BRIGHT COLORS.

Ashley and Andrew are signed up for the search, while my dad is staying home with Lauren. The search is supposed to end at five; Ashley lets me borrow Andrew’s car for the day so I don’t have to wake my dad up for a ride later when we close at three.

I rarely drive. Ashley taught me last summer, so I could get my license, but I don’t have my own car. And the roads here make me nervous. They’re packed with snow, and deer are likely to jump out at any moment.

I leave earlier than necessary and take the whole drive at twenty miles per hour. Andrew’s car feels tiny in comparison to Ashley’s SUV, rattling over every bump in the road. The snow comes down in steady flakes.

I open the café with my key and get several pots of coffee going. Rob is five minutes late, as usual, but we’re hardly busy when I flip the sign on the door to OPEN. The people who do come in are wearing FIND BAILEY buttons.

“Where did you get those?” I ask Meredith, Tom Cornwell’s adult daughter. Her son is in Lauren’s grade.

Meredith looks embarrassed for me. “The Diamonds had them made for the search volunteers.”

“Oh.”

When I bring Meredith her usual cinnamon latte, she uses her free hand to unpin the button. Hands it to me. “You should have it.”

Once she leaves, I pin the button above my right boob. I imagine what Jade would say about it. How is a fucking button supposed to help find her?

Unease settles over me. Jade must know by now that I’m avoiding her. And I can’t even come up with a good reason why.

Maybe it’s the way she looked at me when I told her what I said to Ellie Knepper about Bailey wanting to run away. Maybe I’m still guilty about missing Bailey’s vigil. Or maybe it’s because I have something else to hide from her now—the fact that I went to the spiritualist shop and spoke to Amber. Jade will just find a way to make me feel humiliated about it, or worse. I think of the look in her eye when she confronted me about telling Ellie Knepper that Bailey may have run away. She’d stared at me as if she were seeing something that wasn’t there before—something untrustworthy.

It means I can’t tell Jade about the pendulum. Not yet—not until I find out why Bailey lied about where she got it. Otherwise, Jade might think I’m trying to make our missing friend look like a liar to get the heat off me.

My head goes hollow as I think of the way Amber looked at me: It could mean someone close to you isn’t being truthful.

Jade had promised me she wouldn’t tell Burke about the barn, or Lauren sneaking out with us. But I’m not Jade’s best friend: Bailey is. And Jade will do anything to bring Bailey home.

Even if it means telling the police everything.

Even if it means making me look like a liar to Detective Burke.

Around eleven, a Camry with a Broken Falls High Dance Team sticker on the back window pulls up outside the front of the café. I recognize it as Val Diamond’s car and freeze in place. Outside the front window, I spot Bridget Gibson and Val approaching the door.

I turn around, hurry behind the front counter. Bend down and make a big deal of finding the bleach-soaked rag we keep by the pastry case for spills.

When Bridget and Val approach the front, I shake off a tremble. I don’t know why; girls like them have just always inspired that reaction in me. Like despite their perfect smiles and sugary-sweet voices, I should be afraid of them.

“Hi, Kacey,” Val says, not meeting my eyes. “Can we have two vanilla lattes?”

I nod, suddenly voiceless, as I accept the five-dollar bill in Val’s palm and make change. Bridget is hanging behind Val, immersed in her phone. They take one of the empty tables as I get the latte machine going.

Once the mugs are filled and steaming, I make my way to their table and find my voice. “Is there anything else I can get you?”

Bridget looks up at me. Says nothing, as if I don’t exist. Her nose is red, as if she’s been crying. She has always reminded me of an animated Disney princess—overexaggerated green eyes, honey-blond hair, and freckles.

But here’s the thing about Bridget: she’s actually kind of terrifying. Rumor has it she made a middle school boyfriend cry when he forgot to decorate her locker for her birthday. Her peons love her; they call her Gibby, their go-to girl to throw down when someone is an asshole to them.

I’ve always steered clear of her. Didn’t want to get on her bad side.

Now, I just don’t care. I look Bridget in the eye. “Let me know if there’s anything else you need.”

As I turn to head back to the counter, Bridget calls out: “Kacey.”

My name sounds strange coming out of her mouth. Desperate, almost. I turn around.

“Someone went to the police and said they saw Bailey’s car outside Cliff’s house last week,” she says.

I stop and turn around. It feels like the floor is shifting beneath me. “Bailey went to Cliff’s house?”

Bridget’s voice is icy. “Did you know?”

My hands go into the back pockets of my jeans. “Know what?”

“That he was hooking up with Bailey behind my back.”

So this is why they’re here. They think I have some sort of gossip; that I can confirm an affair between Bailey and Cliff.

She didn’t tell me shit, I want to say. Go talk to Jade.

But that would be throwing fuel on a fire. I steal a glance at the counter; Rob is still in the kitchen, listening to AC/DC and being generally oblivious to what goes on up front. I take the third chair at Bridget and Val’s table. “How do you know that they were hooking up?”

Bridget looks at me as if I’m dumber than the stray muffin crumb on the table. “Why else would she be at his house?”

“I don’t know,” I say. “I thought he hated her.”

“Apparently not,” Bridget says.

My thoughts swirl. Did Jade know? Jade would have said something—“It doesn’t make any sense. Bay never told me.”

Val pipes up, her voice quiet as a mouse’s. “She probably didn’t want you and Jade to know.”

“Whatever, I broke up with him,” Bridget announces. “So it’s officially no longer my problem.”

“How can you say that?” I ask, my eyes finding Val’s, as if I’m waiting for her to jump in and agree with me. But she looks down at her latte. “Even if you hate her, shouldn’t you be at least horrified that Cliff may have—”

“He didn’t kill her,” Bridget snaps. “Don’t even say that. He was home all night after the party.”

“You really still believe him?” I ask. “After he never told you Bailey was at his house?”

Bridget’s eyes go glassy. “I know he wouldn’t hook up with that skank unless she threw herself at him.”

“Bridget,” Val says softly.

“Whatever.” Bridget’s eyes flick to me. “Cliff isn’t even the one Bailey really wanted. You should know that.”

My hands go cold. “What are you talking about?”

Val looks nervous. Bridget flicks her hair over her shoulder. “If you don’t know that she was only friends with you to get to Andrew, then I feel sorry for you.”