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Except that’s not right because the last time I saw her she wasn’t partying.
She was sleeping…
I think…
And then she wandered into the woods…
I shake my head as fog tumbles through my mind, like mist above a murky lake.
I step forward toward the cabin where music is thumping from inside. I need to get in there—I need to find Zoe. Something isn’t right. I can feel it in the nausea plaguing my stomach, in the aching confusion in my brain.
“Zoe…” I whisper, but my voice fades away..
Just like reality…
“Shh…” A guy whispers. “Everything will be okay. I’ve got you.
It’s the last thought that slips through my mind before darkness wraps around me and pulls me away.
Chapter 9
Harper
Ileave class without speaking to Wylder. I refuse to even make eye contact with him and high tail it out of the classroom, knowing it’s for the best. Hanging out with popular, star quarterbacks screams I’m going to draw attention.
At that’s the last thing I want or need.
Now or ever.
My next class consists of taking the exam. I finish up early, but feel like I did okay, despite the stressful weekend I had. Once I’m done, I head back to my dorm room with the plan of taking a nap. When I lay down, however, I end up tossing and turning, my mind stuck on Zoe and also Ivy and I don’t even know why. Women go missing all the time. I’ve heard stories about it, it’s happened in the town I live in. It’s not an anomaly—sadly.
But I keep thinking about that party that Ivy was last seen at and then my mind goes to Zoe and the last party we attended together, how she almost disappeared from that.
She was so close to being Ivy only Ivy’s situation is different—it has to be.
There’s no connection there.
Because Zoe didn’t disappear. She was found. How? No one has any idea. At least that’s the story that’s been told. Personally, I don’t believe it. Someone had to have found her and brought her back to the house, because Liam sure as hell didn’t.
And yet, I can’t help thinking about how Zoe and I were at a party when we almost disappeared and Ivy allegedly was as well. What other details could match up?
Unable to stand the unknowing any longer, I grab my laptop and search Ivy’s name to see the details of her disappearance.
Local articles litter the search engine so I try to read through the ones that look the most legitimate. But the information about her is basically what I’ve already heard. The police could have more details, though, and are just keeping it from the public.
I click on a photo of her—I’m not even sure why, other than I can’t seem to get her face out of my head. Maybe it’s because her dark hair and blue eyes remind me of my sister. Not that they look exactly alike, but there are similarities. They also have similar interests. Or well, had since my sister doesn’t show much interest in anything anymore other than maintaining her perfect like façade and snorting lines up her nose. But back in the day when our lives were marginally normal, she liked art and design, she was on a ton of committees in high school, and she was a social butterfly. From what everyone has said about Ivy, she loves painting, volunteers at local shelters, and has a ton of friends. It’s a bit strange I don’t really know if she was that popular. I’m a loner, though. However, people tend to speak more highly about someone once they're gone.
Slumping against the wall, my thoughts drift to my mother and how everyone always speaks about her as if she was this angel, but everyone has flaws. My mother died when I was young enough that I don’t have a ton of memories of her, and since I only ever hear about the nice parts of her, do I even know her? Not that I believe she’s a terrible person, but everyone has faults. To be honest, faults are what make people interesting—real. If they don’t have faults, my personal opinion is that they're being fake. Liam is like that, except I’ve known him for long enough that I’ve seen his faults, the ones he doesn’t want other people to see. And my sister is becoming the same way.
I mull this over then decide to do a search on the storage unit that I had to bring her keys to. I’m not even positive what I’m expecting to find—nothing really. However, I stumbled upon an article linked to storage units in the area.
I lean forward as I read the paragraph on the screen. “Police discover several storage units being used as a drug storage facility. Arrests have been made, but no names have been released to the public. This is an ongoing problem in the area and police are trying to come up with a solution to stop the situation, but storage facilities like these seem to be becoming more common.” This article was published a handful of months ago.
While I doubt my sister is storing drugs in these units, my bet is that drugs are dealt there.
“Dammit, Zoe.” It’s what I already suspected, but seeing the evidence in front of me makes it too real.
Beyond frustrated, I shove my laptop off my lap and trudge out into the sitting area to get a snack. Zayla is lounging on the sofa with her foot propped up on the coffee table and she’s painting her toenails a shade of glittery midnight blue. The air burns of fingernail polish mixed with the garlic pasta she made for lunch. It’s not a good combination, let me tell you.
