In the Dark Page 5

  The chasm between them filled her with sadness.

  What happened to my sweet girl?

  “What?” Kelly asked, feeling her mother’s stare.

  “I filed a missing-persons report today.”

  “You what?”

  Kelly dropped the phone into her lap and gaped at Marissa like she’d just dropped an f-bomb.

  “Brooke missed class today. She wasn’t at her dorm room.”

  Kelly rolled her eyes in an oh-my-God 360 that set Marissa’s blood boiling.

  “Mom, you saw the message she put on Facebook. She probably just met some guy and took off. And you’ve got the police hunting her down like she’s some kind of criminal.”

  “Brooke wouldn’t leave without telling me. Aren’t you the least bit worried about your sister?”

  Kelly shook her head and eyed Marissa with a scathing look. “Your perfect little Brooke may not be as perfect as you think.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  Kelly shrugged, gathering her books. “Just because she’s not answering you doesn’t mean that something’s wrong. She doesn’t tell you everything.”

  Marissa’s head reeled with the implications of what Kelly meant. What was Brooke hiding from her? A boyfriend? Something more?

  “Have you heard from her? An e-mail? A text? Anything?”

  Kelly slammed her cell phone on the tall stack of books and huffed out an exasperated breath. “No, but I’m not bugging her either. Maybe she’s sick of you controlling her every move.”

  Marissa’s head snapped back; she was stung by the accusation in Kelly’s voice.

  “You think I’m controlling?”

  A short bark of laughter escaped Kelly’s lips.

  “You think you’re not?”

  “Brooke’s roommate hasn’t seen or heard from her in two days. Of course I’m worried. If you were missing, wouldn’t you want me to do everything I could to ensure you were all right?”

  “Me? I’d hope you wouldn’t come looking for me. I’d hope you’d leave me alone to live my own life, instead of dragging me through another shitty relationship, another shitty divorce, only to move me back to another shitty rat-hole like this one.”

  “That’s not fair, Kelly. Sometimes families have to make hard decisions, but we stick together.”

  “Family,” Kelly scoffed. “You don’t know the first thing about family. You’ve destroyed any family we’ve ever had. I’ve never met my father or my grandparents or cousins. You stayed with that asshole Rick long after you figured out what a lunatic he was. God, I remember all of the drinking, the fighting. It wasn’t until Rick knocked out your teeth that you came to your senses and left the bastard.”

  “Kelly . . .”

  “What about Logan? What did he ever do to you? He was the only one who gave two shits about me, and you left him. Why? Because he didn’t worship the ground you walked on? Because for once I was happy and you couldn’t stand it?”

  Marissa sat in stunned silence as Kelly snatched her stack of books off the table and ran to her room. The kitchen walls shuddered with the force of the slamming bedroom door.

  Tears welled in Marissa’s eyes. She pressed her palms against her closed eyelids. Her whole world was collapsing around her and she didn’t know what to do. Brooke was gone. Missing. And she had no idea how to find her.

  Kelly hated her. The acid pouring from Kelly’s lips had gone leagues beyond teenage angst. God, she couldn’t do anything right, and there was no one she could talk to, no one who cared. Kelly was right about that much. She was alone. She had driven everyone away.

  She raised her head and raked her fingernails across the nicotine patch on her arm.

  God, what I wouldn’t give for a cigarette right now.

  Marissa crossed the room and turned on the teakettle. A cup of herbal tea was a damned poor substitute for a cigarette. A shot of whiskey might be better, but she never drank the hard stuff. Her ex-husband’s drunken rages had turned her off anything stronger than a glass of wine.

  Rick. What a disaster.

  Rick had been the assistant manager at the grocery store where she’d worked. He was a single parent too, so he never gave her a hard time about missing work because the kids were sick or having to leave early to pick them up from day care. All she’d wanted was a real family for the girls.

  He’d seemed so normal. Stable. And he was—for a while, anyway.

  On his meds, Rick was a nice guy, and without his support, there was no telling where Marissa and the girls would have ended up—on welfare, or worse. So they moved in together quickly and married shortly after that. A few months into their marriage, Rick stopped taking his medication, and everything went off the rails.

  No amount of pleading could get him back on his meds. Soon his drinking binges intensified. The first time he hit Marissa, he cried, and she forgave him. Six months later, though, she realized the situation was hopeless.

  Marissa ran the tip of her tongue across her gums, feeling the scars, and this time she couldn’t hold back the memories. They flooded her mind with vivid, chilling detail.

  Fourth of July, and Rick had been drinking all day. Marissa was clearing the dinner dishes from the table. The Dixie Chicks were playing on the kitchen radio and the girls were in high spirits. Soon they’d be going to the lake to watch the fireworks—they were all talking and laughing. Marissa asked Rick if he was coming.

  The first hit took them all by surprise. The kitchen light flashed off Rick’s bloodstone ring, catching Marissa squarely in the mouth. White-hot pain burst through her and she fell back on the floor, lips splitting and blood pouring out of her mouth.

  Nine-year-old Kelly screamed for him to stop, but he didn’t. Desperate, afraid Rick would turn on her next, Marissa shouted at Kelly to go to her room. Kelly didn’t move. Her red, tearstained face full of fury, she screamed at Rick to stop. He cocked back a meaty fist and Marissa dropped her head to her knees, bracing herself for another blow.

  But it didn’t come. Rick’s son jumped in front of her.

  Seventeen-year-old Andy was as tall as his father now and done with Rick’s shit. He raised his arm, deflecting his father’s blow. The bottle of Jack Daniel’s exploded against the edge of the countertop in a starburst of glass shards. Glass and liquor rained over Marissa’s crouched body. Silver light flashed along the jagged neck of the bottle as Rick swung it wide in a wild, desperate arc. Glass sliced through Andy’s hand, spraying red blood across the white linoleum floor.

  Andy roared. He lunged, and Rick went down with a thunderous crash.

  Brooke raced into the kitchen and slipped on the slick combination of whiskey and blood. She came down on her knee, screaming. Chunky shards of glass embedded themselves in her tender skin. She still had a patch of bumpy scars just under her kneecap where doctors had pulled the glass out.

  To this day Marissa didn’t know who had called the cops. Probably the neighbors. The wail of the police sirens drowned out Kelly’s shrieks. Rick left the house in handcuffs, stuffed into the back of a squad car. Marissa tucked Brooke under one arm and Kelly under the other as she marched through the back door.

  After filing a domestic violence report and a protection order, she never went back. They abandoned their belongings, not wanting to see Rick or that house ever again. That was six years ago.

  Exhausted, Marissa propped her hands against the countertop and stared out the window. Rain streaked down the glass like a river of tears.

  Kelly’s bitter words still cut deep, and as much as it hurt to admit, there had been truth in what Kelly said. Her string of failed relationships spoke for itself, and as a result of her poor choices, she’d dragged her daughters through hell.

  Maybe Kelly was right about Brooke too. Maybe Brooke was sick of her interference. Maybe she’d met some guy at school and fallen head over heels for him. Maybe Marissa needed to back off and do the impossible . . . wait.

  Marissa picked at the edge of the ni
cotine patch, then ripped it off her arm. The adhesive clung stubbornly to her skin, peeling a few strips off with it. Her breath hissed through her clenched teeth. The newly exposed skin was red, irritated, and painful as hell. She rubbed the spot with the palm of her hand and went rifling through the drawers in search of a cigarette.

  Chapter 8

  The line moved at a glacial pace. Drew shifted his weight from one foot to the other and pulled out his phone. He had time to kill while the morons in front of him hemmed and hawed their way through the decision-making process. How hard was it to order a fucking coffee?

  They should have two lines—one for regulars, one for the galactically stupid.

  Drew pulled out his phone and clicked on his Facebook app. A smiling photo of pretty Brooke Parker filled his screen. He saw the photo of that asshole Charles Sully from the bar and some others posted by Tess.

  Running into Brooke had been a shock. She was part of the past he’d buried years ago. And with his father safely tucked away in the loony bin, he’d severed all ties with who he used to be. There was no way he was going back. He had no intention of sharing that part of his life with anyone—not his new set of friends, not his coworkers, and especially not his girlfriend. Alicia wouldn’t understand.

  The line shifted, and Drew looked up. His favorite barista was working. She was big and black and beautiful, with a quick wit and even quicker smile.

  “Tall dark Americano, with an extra shot,” she said.

  “You know how I like it, baby.”

  “Oh yes,” she said with a flirty grin. “Mama always knows.”

  Drew handed her a five-dollar bill.

  This was his favorite neighborhood coffee shop. Though it was predominantly a geek hangout, he came here for the great coffee and free Wi-Fi. The location was perfect, a short jog from his condo and close enough to Alicia’s office. She’d sometimes join him for an afternoon mocha Frappuccino.

  Speaking of Alicia, she’d sent him a text this morning. He’d ignored this one too. After all, she’d ruined their evening out by inviting Sir Liam Douchebag to the party. So instead of bonding with Alicia’s inner circle, he’d been shoved to the sidelines and treated like an outsider.

  Judging by the number of messages and phone calls, Alicia didn’t like being ignored. That was fine. She could spend the time alone mulling over her own shitty decisions.

  Not too long though. He didn’t want to lose her. In many ways she was the best thing to have happened to him. She was exactly the type of girl he’d always wanted. Beautiful. Fun. Wealthy. She would complete his transformation from a boy raised in a poor train wreck of a family to the successful man he wanted to be.

  “Tall handsome Americano,” the barista called, batting her eyes. The line jostled.

  Drew elbowed his way through the throng of waiting sheep and scooped up his drink. He might have walked out of the shop without looking around if he hadn’t heard the snort.

  Gretchen sat hunched over a table near the window. Her unruly mass of red hair tumbled around her hunched shoulders. She shifted in her chair, and he caught sight of Alicia. She gazed out the window with a sober look on her pale face.

  A public confrontation wasn’t at all what he had in mind, and he knew he should turn around and leave the coffee shop before she spotted him. He wanted Alicia in the right place, in the right frame of mind, so he could control the outcome of their discussion. The last thing he needed was Alicia’s fat little friend lobbing more fuel on the fire.

  Drew’s curiosity got the better of him though, and he edged his way toward the table, drawing as little attention to himself as possible. He settled in a nearby chair with his back to Gretchen, staring down at his phone while he listened.

  Eavesdropping wasn’t hard. Gretchen’s obnoxious voice carried.

  “Liam said he saw Drew chatting up some blonde at the bar. You really haven’t heard from him since Saturday night?”

  “Not a word.”

  “You’ve texted him?”

  “Of course I’ve texted him. I’ve left messages. He’s ignoring me. He’s . . .”

  Alicia’s voice caught, and she stopped. Gretchen sighed.

  “Look, Alicia, I didn’t want to say this, but I’m your friend and I don’t want to lie to you. Something about Drew gives me the willies. I mean, he’s cute and all, but how much do you really know about him? You guys are awfully serious for the short time you’ve been together. Maybe you should take a break. Maybe . . .”

  “Enough,” Alicia snapped.

  Behind his coffee cup, Drew smiled, but Gretchen pressed on.

  “Hey, I’m not the only one who thinks so. Liam said he was worried about you. Being with Drew, I mean.”

  “Worried. What do you mean?”

  “You know, that Drew might be the jealous type. Like he might do something crazy.”

  “Crazy? Really? And what puts Liam in any position to judge?”

  “Are you forgetting about the girl at the bar? What if Liam’s right and Drew really did leave with her? What if he’s been playing you all along? You know how shallow guys can be.”

  Drew’s hand clenched around the cup. Hot, bitter steam rose from the lid. He should have followed Liam home from the bar and taught the prick a lesson. Instead he’d waited, and Liam had joined forces with Gretchen the Witless in hopes of undermining his relationship with Alicia.

  “Drew wouldn’t just leave with some girl,” Alicia said, but the tone of her voice lacked conviction.

  Gretchen heaved another dramatic sigh.

  “He’s gone dark, Alicia. Do you know where he is and what he’s doing? Look, I’m not trying to cause trouble or anything, I’m just saying that if it were me . . .”

  Drew couldn’t sit and listen to this crap another second more. Gretchen’s blather encroached on dangerous territory. He spun in his seat and glared directly at her.

  “If it were you, what, Gretchen?”

  Gretchen looked like a guppy with her mouth dropped open wide. She looked so ridiculous he would laugh if he weren’t so fucking furious. Alicia was shocked to see him too, but she recovered more quickly, composing her face into a stony mask of indifference.

  “Oh, Drew, I didn’t see you there.”

  Drew cocked an eyebrow. “Mind if I join you?”

  He didn’t wait for an answer. He scraped his chair across the tile floor and sat down at their table. Avoiding eye contact, Alicia angled her gaze out the huge glass window and watched the traffic pass by. Drew’s knee grazed Gretchen’s and she flinched away, as if singed by the sudden, unexpected contact. Anger bubbled in Drew’s gut.

  Gretchen tugged on a fat red curl and glanced across the table at Alicia, who was still staring out the window. She shifted uncomfortably in her chair and cleared her throat.

  “Alicia and I were just talking about Saturday night,” Gretchen said.

  “I gathered. So Liam has been spreading rumors about me and some blonde?”

  Bull’s-eye. Gretchen’s cheeks flushed a deep, unflattering shade of red. She looked mortified, like she’d rather be anywhere else right about now. She’d much rather whisper her poisonous lies into Alicia’s willing ears.

  “Well, Liam said he saw you talking to some girl at the bar.”

  “Did he now?” Drew took a sip of his Americano, letting the awkward silence stretch out. He wanted Gretchen uncomfortable. He wanted her to regret opening her mouth. “I’m surprised he noticed. He seemed to be pretty intent on impressing Alicia.”

  “Liam and I are just friends,” Alicia said.

  “Really? Because he’s the only friend whose hand was on your ass. Or didn’t you notice?”

  Gretchen sputtered coffee across the table. Covering her mouth, she coughed.

  “That go down the wrong way, Gretchen?” Drew thumped her on the back.

  “I’m fine,” she croaked.

  Holding up a hand, Gretchen swabbed her face with a wad of paper napkins.

  Alicia looked dire
ctly at him. “Let’s leave Gretchen out of this, Drew. This is something we should discuss alone.”

  “Why? It seems like Gretchen is anxious to tell you all about what happened after I left the group on Saturday night. Maybe we should listen.”

  Gretchen cleared her throat and held up a hand, palm out. “Not me. I didn’t see anything.”

  “Well, it just so happens I was talking to a blonde at the bar. Some creep was hitting on her, so I interrupted. I wanted to make sure she was all right.”

  Drew waited. The secret to telling a good lie was seeding it with enough truth to make it ring true. This one was sure to shut Gretchen’s big fat trap.

  “Who was she?”

  “Just a girl. I don’t remember her name, but it certainly wasn’t anything you should be concerned about.”

  Gretchen’s phone beeped. She checked the display.

  “Excuse me,” she said, looking relieved. “I have to go. I’ll call you later, Alicia.”

  Drew’s eyes met Alicia’s, and he wondered if she would flee too, but she didn’t. She stayed put.

  “Where did you go Saturday night?”

  “Home, Alicia. What about you?”

  She pursed her lips and eyed him warily. “Why haven’t you been answering my calls?”

  “Because I’m pissed.”

  “Clearly.”

  “Anybody in my shoes would be.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Your ex-boyfriend comes to the party, plants his hands all over you, and you expect me not to react?”

  “His hands weren’t all over me.”

  Drew arched his eyebrows, and Alicia dropped her gaze. Her cheeks flushed red, and he sipped his coffee, letting the silence stretch out like an elastic band ready to snap.

  “Are you sure about that? You two seemed quite cozy.”

  “Honestly, Drew, I didn’t know he was coming. Gretchen invited him.”

  “How convenient.”