dry and tight when she answers.
“Phee. Thank God you picked up. It’s Allie. She’s tried to kill herself and she’s taken the car and—”
“Oh God. Oh, Braden. Keep talking. I’m already moving.”
Adrenaline floods her as she squeezes the phone between her shoulder and her ear and puts on her shoes and jacket.
“She’s at the Sunset Motel. The cops are on their way. I’ve booked an Uber, but it’s going to be a bit and you’re closer than I am. I can’t bear the waiting. Go there, Phee, don’t come here.”
“All right.” She can hear his panicked breathing, the sound of him pacing. “Easy, Braden. Maybe she’s okay. How do you know—”
“I was worried. Had a bad feeling. I looked at her laptop. She always takes it with her, she never leaves it here. There was an IM conversation between her and Ethan . . .” His voice breaks on a wrenching sob that threatens to turn her inside out.
She grabs her keys and runs to her car.
Braden manages a quavering breath, and goes on. “They made a pact, Phee. And they were meeting hours ago. If she’s . . .” He breaks off again, unable to say the words.
“I’m on my way. Give me an address.”
He rattles off the number and street, and she enters it into her phone. “That’s not far from here. Stay with me, Braden. I’m in the car. Moving.”
“Oh God. I should have done something, Phee. Taken her to a counselor. Sent her off with Alexandra. All of this is my fault.”
“Sounds like Ethan has some blame in this.”
“Lilian would never have let her date that boy.”
“Did you?”
“No, but—”
“She’s a seventeen-year-old girl. You can’t just stop a kid that age from doing shit unless you physically lock her in a room. Maybe not even then. I speak from the voice of experience.”
She sees flashing lights ahead. Dread writhes in her belly. The seedy motel is garishly lit, on again, off again, by the red and blue lights. Two cop cars. An ambulance. A group of people huddles beside the ambulance watching the show.
“Phee?” Braden’s voice asks. “Where are you? What do you see?”
“I’m here. There are cop cars. An ambulance.”
“Oh God.” It’s a groan, a prayer.
“I’m going to see what I can find out. I’ll call you back.” Phee disconnects. If it’s bad news, she doesn’t want him to hear it live.
The motel has two floors, all of the doors opening out toward the parking lot. Up the stairs, to the right, one of the doors is open. A uniformed officer stands outside.
“Hey,” she says, approaching the bystanders. “What’s going on?”
“Suicide. That’s what the cop told the EMT,” a girl says. She can’t be much older than Allie, but the high boots, short skirt, and amount of makeup hint that her presence in the motel is more professional than recreational.
“Asshole kids creating trouble,” a man says. He’s skeletal thin, twitchy, his right front incisor missing. “Should never have rented them a room.”
The girl surprises Allie with a swift response. “You’re right, Finn, you shouldn’t have.”
“And you’d better make your pretty ass scarce before the cops come out here and get interested in you,” he retorts with venom.
Phee walks away from both of them, starts climbing the stairs.
The cop swivels toward her, one hand automatically resting on his service weapon.
“Ma’am, go back to the parking lot.”
“I’m family. Of the girl, Allie. Please.”
His voice softens, but he moves to block the top of the stairs. “You’ll help her best right now by letting the medical team work. Please go back down.”
“But can you tell me anything? Anything at all. Please.” She presses her palms together like a prayer.
“They’re alive, that’s all I know and all I can tell you. Now, please.”
“What hospital will they take her to? At least tell me that.”
The cop’s face registers sympathy. He hesitates a moment. “I’ll ask if you wait right here.”
“Promise. Not budging.” She grips the railing with both hands to signal her intent, and he turns and walks to the open door. She can’t hear what’s said, no matter how she strains her ears, and it seems an eternity before he returns.
“Swedish. Ballard Campus.”
“Bless you.” Phee retreats but doesn’t rejoin the others. The girl, she sees, has vanished, but her place has been taken by a middle-aged woman who is filming the open doorway and the cop outside it with her phone.
Phee calls Braden back. “Alive,” she says.
“What happened? What did they . . .” She hears the words stick in