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Someone is using Willa’s name as a cover-up, or Willa is using her name as a cover-up. We have less than a handful of friends in common, most of which we haven’t talked to since we moved off campus a couple of years ago. Jerry, her boyfriend and boss, and Willa are the only people I see on a regular basis. He works crazy hours and does not have enough time in his normal day to toy with either of us like this.
“I’m taking my phone to the police station. Maybe they can give me a better answer.”
“You were just released, thank God. Do you really want to go back there right now?” Willa wraps her arms around her stomach, hugging herself for comfort. “This is making me sound like I have something to hide but, Haley, come on, we’ve been best friends for years. You know I would never do something like this to you. I stayed here in Newport for the summer because I was worried about you staying alone.”
“I didn’t do anything to anyone so I shouldn’t be concerned about going to the police station, should I?” I reply, ignoring her plea of innocence.
“I’ll come with you. Okay?”
“No, I—I need to go by myself. I have to sort this out, and if someone is weaponizing your name, I’ll put a stop to it.”
“Which is why I should go with you. It’s my name.”
If my world is going to continue caving in on me until I’m buried alive, I feel like I should move forward on my own, but I guess this isn’t just about me anymore—not with her name mixed into the mess.
NINETEEN
SATURDAY, JUNE 10TH 8:30 PM
I wasn’t expecting there to be a wait at the police station, but I suppose tracing a phone number might not be top of their priority list. I should have mentioned that the person sending me messages could have something to do with the Smith case when we arrived, but I was so flustered I only mentioned the need to trace some threatening messages I’d received. I would like to give more details now, but the desk where the station clerk sits is still vacant. The woman hasn’t returned from wherever she went almost a half hour ago.
“You should just go home,” I tell Willa, resting my head back against the wall behind my chair. “There’s no sense in us both sitting here.”
Willa pulls her thick curls behind her neck and twists them tightly around her finger before releasing them into bouncing springs. She fans herself with a brochure about the effects of drunk driving she found on the seat beside her. I thought it was just me who was sweating, but I guess not. It’s hot in here, which isn’t helping my patience. “I’m not leaving. I’ve been sitting here with you this whole time for a reason, one I’m not sure you’re understanding.”
“I know this isn’t your fault,” I tell her. “I’m just at a complete loss and have no control over what’s happening to me.” I need answers. I want to feel safe. I want to know if all of this would still have happened if I hadn’t taken the job with the Smith family. I just feel like I couldn’t be further from the answers or explanations.
“Ladies, you can follow me,” a female officer says, rising from one of the desks in front of us. We stand and follow her around the bullpen until we reach the wall of office doors. She gestures for us to walk into the second room on the right. “Detective Straton will assist you.”
There are two black metal chairs with leather padding facing Detective Straton’s tidy desk, with only a yellow lined notebook set down in the center. I don’t recognize him from the other night, but he’s as clean cut and rigid as most of the other uniformed men walking around the station. And though he seems young to be a detective, I’m hoping it means he’s good at what he does. “Have a seat please,” he says, waving his hand toward the two chairs while he studies his notepad for a long moment before glancing up again. “Ms. Vaughn, you were just here last night in conjunction with the missing Smith baby, is that correct?”
I’m not surprised to be greeted this way, not when the case is still hot. “Yes, sir. They brought me in for questioning then I was released.”
“Yes, I see that here in the notes.”
“I was in the wrong place—” He lifts his hand and nods his head. It might be a gesture to show his understanding, but I don’t know what anyone thinks about me after last night.
“And you are?” he says, shifting his hard stare over to Willa.
“Willa Woodrow, sir. I’m Haley’s roommate.”
“Why don’t you tell me what’s been going on,” he says, leaning back into his chair and intertwining his fingers over his midsection.
I wonder what these detectives and officers are like when they’re off duty. There’s no personality behind his eyes, no emotions to trace along his face, and no urgency to move us along so he can move on to his next task.
“Following the events last night, I began receiving disturbing messages from an unknown number. Someone is following me, watching everything I do. The last ones I received were threats, telling me to stop, but I don’t know what that means. I haven’t responded to any of them. Willa downloaded a tracing app onto my phone to see if we could capture a name, but when we did, the information showed her name with a different phone number.”
“I’m not responsible for any of the messages, sir,” Willa chimes in with a nervous inflection as she squeezes her palms together on top of her lap.
“I assume whoever this person is must know the two of us, but neither of us knows anyone who would do something like this.”
Detective Straton is scribbling down notes on his pad and nodding his head. “And you said this all began following the events last night, correct?”
“Yes, sir,” I say.
“Do you think the messages have something to do with the missing child?”
“Yes, I do. The person sending the messages also warned me not to approach the news reporters on the wharf earlier today. They were clearly watching me and knew what I would say if I did answer any questions.”
