up the road. Everyone knew that to be true, and yet the tax hike still resonated with the locals, who were envious of the wealthy newcomers’ status. Chance Academy sat on an impressive bluff overlooking the ocean and cost forty-four thousand dollars a year per child to attend—and it wasn’t even located in Shepherd’s Bay.
So why had Willow chosen to attend Shepherd’s Bay High instead of Chance? Had something bad happened to her at that pricey school? And why had Drew and Isla been so insistent that Julian was involved with the girls’ disappearance? Julian attended Chance and lived next door to Willow. The missing boy, Dakota James, had also attended Chance.
Beckett appraised his surroundings before disappearing through the front door. Karl sighed in relief. A light was extinguished inside the house as Beckett wormed his way through it. He wondered if Julian was asleep upstairs, in one of the bedrooms. Something told him it wouldn’t hurt to talk to Julian at some point and see what he knew.
KATIE
I LIE HERE IN A SUSPENDED STATE THAT’S PART DREAM AND PART MEMORY. My soul feels diseased and rotten, as if it’s teeming with maggots. Maybe it’s the heavy drugs those nurses gave me. Or maybe it’s the hard reality of what’s happened that prevents me from remembering.
They want to stick needles in me and poke me and take my blood, but for some reason, I refuse to let them. I’ve hated needles my entire life, thanks to Raisin’s illness. I scream whenever they approach, so now they mostly leave me alone.
There certainly can’t be any worse place for me right now than this uncomfortable hospital bed. People come and go and smile at me, as if I’m some kind of porcelain doll. Or maybe they see me as a victim. It’s entirely possible I am a victim, but their shallow sympathy irks me all the same. Maybe I’m not really a victim, but something else. Something worse. Then their sympathies will seem stupid.
It’s weird. I feel like throwing up a lot of the time. One moment I’m starving, and then a few minutes later, the sight of food repulses me.
My mother, to my dismay, dotes on me constantly. My dad, if he were here, would stand behind her and smile innocently. Coach Hicks came in and sat with me for a few minutes, all positive energy and chirpy blabbing about something or another. Drew balled like a baby when he first saw me. Then his face turned angry after I refused to respond to his pathetic pleas, and the security guards had to come in and escort him out. The tears that flowed from my eyes were not for him, and never would be, although he probably thought they were.
Truth was, I didn’t want to see him. Or anyone else, for that matter. I would have told him as much, but I couldn’t form the words in my mouth. I want only my mother with me. And Raisin, too, if Raisin ever bothers to show up. But for whatever reason, he hasn’t. More than anything, I want to see Willow’s smiling face.
I lose track of time, apart from the obvious separation between night and day. My sleep rhythm has become disrupted by whatever ails me. Even trying to remember what happened that night leaves me fatigued. That, combined with the heavy meds, makes me feel like a zombie.
All the lightness has drained out of me.
Forgive me if I don’t remember events in chronological order, but before Drew was escorted out by security, he told me that I should have listened to him. He gave me an emphatic “I told you so.” He took my hand in his own and squeezed harder than I would have liked. It made me wary of him, and I pretended to be asleep. He told me he loved me, and said that once I was feeling better, he would take care of me. Then he would rescue me from Willow and all the spoiled rich kids who had played a role in messing me up.
I still can’t remember much about what happened that night, but I did an inventory of myself and concluded a few things.
I am Katie Denise Eaves, and I am a good person. Mostly.
There’s nothing I want more right now than to leave this hospital.
It’s dark outside, so it must be night. Or early morning.
Good people can do terrible things, just as bad people can do good things. (Why did that thought just