Chapters (47)
Whitney didn’t believe in coincidences. Not this big, anyway. There was no doubt in her mind that Lauren had been here. This photograph was proof. Why would the old couple lie about it?
Her mind was like one of those rides at the fair that spun in circles, sticking her body to the side. It spun with endless questions, round and round, never stopping. Never landing on any answers. Anger surfaced, thinking of how she’d stood on their doorstep unraveling and they stared right into her face telling bald-faced lies. They knew Lauren. She’d been in this house. In their lives.
But then she remembered how genuinely confused they were earlier. Could it be that they didn’t know Lauren and Amelia had been here on Friday?
God, there were still so many things she didn’t understand. Didn’t know.
With every clue came a dead end.
The desperation that had been mounting since Amelia first went missing burned bright, a lit cigarette crackling down to a pile of ash.
Her gaze lowered to the picture in her hand, landing on the baby, and her stomach bottomed out.
Oh, God. If Amelia’s Lauren was the same girl in this picture, then this wasn’t simply a case of teenagers who ran away.
This was revenge.
29
I WOKE UP in a hospital bed the next morning. Millie had called 911 when she couldn’t feel a pulse. According to the doctors, she saved my life. If she had waited, I could’ve died. I felt stupid. Everyone thought I’d been trying to kill myself, Millie included. But that wasn’t it. I was only trying to get Millie to see me. To see that I was hurting. To see how Mitch was tearing us apart.
But mostly to see how evil he was.
I thought if she was forced to choose me, she would.
If his actions were destroying me, she’d have no choice but to let him go, right?
I figured she’d be so angry she would refuse to talk to him. Better yet, I’d hoped she’d tell her parents or even the police. If Mitch got caught giving drugs to minors he could go to jail. Then he’d surely be out of our lives for good.
But that’s not how it went down.
Millie turned in my two remaining pills, and my mom recognized them as the ones missing from her medicine cabinet. And, lo and behold, I was right, they were pain pills. And sometimes my mom did take two. But never three, or more. And never with alcohol. I guess it was the perfect storm.
I’d miscalculated, and almost killed myself. Worse, it was all for nothing.