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I pointed out the ring to the last guy, but she calls it only dating. Is she trying to trip me up? “We haven’t been together for very long.”
“But you’re serious about him?”
She’s asking the same kinds of questions, but in a friendlier way to make me more comfortable with her. Bad cop, good cop. God, I do not like cops. Not after what happened … No. We are not thinking about that. I clear my throat. Am I serious about Anderson? That’s the question right now. “Yes.”
“Who have you told about your relationship with him?”
Is this the best friend question in a roundabout way? “Just a work friend.”
“Does anyone depend on you? Family? Pets?”
“Not really.”
“Would you mind sharing your banking pin?”
I huff. “It’s four fives, but you won’t find much in there.”
“Are you in love with Anderson West?”
“I’m not sure.”
“What were your?—"
“Grades in elementary school like? Mostly A’s. If you’re going to ask the same questions as the other guy, you’re going to get the same answers because I didn’t lie to him. This is a waste of your time and mine. Can I get a drink? I’m parched. Gags will do that to a girl.” I’m surly because I’m thirsty and trying not to panic, and being rude probably won’t make me any friends, but to be fair, they were rude first, and I’m at the end of my rope.
Oh god. Rope. Rope in the water. Too short. Not enough. Fingers sinking?—
“Do you hike?”
“Not anymore,” I blurt. The panic is hitting me and I can’t stop it this time. My toes tap in my shoes and I’m gripping the chair so I don’t lose my fucking mind.
“Do you have any?—"
“Regrets? Yes. Of course, I do. I’m an adult who learns from her mistakes. Do you have any regrets? Like treating me like a suspect when I’m the victim here?”
She pauses before standing up. Her light footsteps carry her away, but as she leaves, a faraway click happens before the bright light turns off. It’s pitch black in the room, save for the rectangular outline of a door closing.
No, no, no, “Wait!”
But it’s too late. I’m left in utter darkness.
Just like when I sank beneath the surface of the lake. Only this time, I know I’m breathing. I’m breathing and dry and not about to drown. My foot is in a boot and that boot is on a concrete floor, not dangling in the water. When I push off the floor, it’s a floor. Not someone’s hand.
Not Claire’s hand.
I take a breath and try to slow it down. Hyperventilating will not help right now, but I’m not sure I can stop it, either. Get your shit together, June. I am not twelve. I am not being interrogated by the police about a prank gone wrong. This is not that. I am an adult who has been kidnapped. Not a child who made a mistake.
And I need to get the fuck out of here.
Okay. They’re not going to leave me here. That much is certain. I’m not going to be abandoned down here to—no. Not the d-word again. I am not thinking about that or anything related to that.
Claire’s face. Under the water. Lifeless.
I can’t stop the thought. Can’t make it go away. It’s there. Right in front of me. No matter what I try to think of, she’s right there. Just … there.
I wrench air into my lungs, before a sob wracks and takes it from me. I can’t do this. This is going to kill me. I can hear her laughter. The sweet way she used to sing herself to sleep at night. It wasn’t her fault the other kids liked to tease her. I tried to make them stop. I didn’t even know what was going on until it was too late, and we were both in the water.
Summer camp was supposed to be fun and safe. Canoeing was one of the best activities there. But when twelve-year-olds decide to fuck with you, they don’t play around. I’d seen Wendy and Pippa by the canoes earlier, but I hadn’t thought anything of it. But those sisters were monsters, and I knew it and I should have done something.
