What Lies in the Dark Read online

  “Sounds great.” She’s alarmingly cheery, her smile all teeth. “There was one small thing, though.” She reaches into the pocket of her white overcoat. “You were a little low on vitamin B, so I’d like you to work a supplement into your diet.” She hands me a yellow and green bottle. “Take two of these in the morning with food.”

  I take the bottle from her and fake a smile. “Okay.” Yeah, not okay.

  There is no way in hell I’m taking anything she recommends unless I know what it is. In fact, if Ev’s up for it, I’d like to have her hacker friend hack into my files so I can see the test results for myself.

  “Thanks for doing this.” I rise to my feet, fold up the paper, and tuck it into my pocket. “I owe you big time.”

  “I might just take you up on that one day.” She offers me another toothy smile.

  Lovely, her smile is going to give me nightmares for a week.

  “Sounds good.” Looping my arm through Ev’s, I steer us toward the door, but pause before we walk out. “Hey, Scarlett?” I call out, turning around, only to find her watching us.

  “Yeah?” she asks, sticking her hands into her pockets.

  My body tenses. I’m not even sure why. “Have you heard from my mom yet?”

  She shakes her head, her smile fading. “I’m sorry, hon. I’m sure she’ll turn up, though.”

  I don’t like her use of “turn up,” as if my mom is already missing.

  As if she knows my mom is missing.

  I give her one last fake smile before ushering Ev out the door and across the parking lot.

  “Oh, my gosh. Oh, my gosh,” Ev chants after we hop into my car. “That was by far the most terrifying experience I’ve ever … well, experienced.” She peers underneath the collar of her shirt. “The necklace got so hot I thought I was going to have third-degree burns.”

  “Are you okay?” I ask, slipping the keys into the ignition.

  She nods, pushing her shirt back into place. “I’m sorry. I’m panicking, and I don’t even know why.”

  “You’re fine,” I assure her. “You don’t have to be collected all the time, Ev.”

  “But I feel like I do,” she divulges, staring down at her hands. “Ever since my mom died, it’s been my job to keep things together and be the rational, responsible one.”

  My heart hurts for her. “Maybe that’s how you feel you have to be with your family, but not with me, Kennedy, and Embry.”

  She laughs softly. “Someone has to be the responsible one when you guys decide to do something that could potentially land you in jail.”

  “Hey, we’re always responsible about the crimes we commit,” I joke. “Well, almost always.”

  She glances up at me with a surprising smile on her face. “I just can’t believe this is all happening. I feel like we are nowhere near close to finding out exactly what all this is.”

  “Yeah, I don’t think so either.” I grip the keys, ready to start the engine. “What I do know is the Scarlett in there isn’t the Scarlett who went to my first skate competition to cheer me on. She was too smiley and kept forgetting things. She even called me McKenzie once, and she’s known me since I was three!”

  “Why do you think she was like that?” Ev asks, unclasping the necklace from around her neck.

  “I’m not sure, but I don’t like how she acts as if my mom is already missing. I saw her just this morning.” For some reason, my gaze travels to the missing person’s flyers taped to the lampposts. There are flyers like that all over town. Hardly anyone ever gets found, yet no one acts alarmed by this, except for my father.

  My father who is now also missing. Just like my mom might be.

  No, I’m not going to go there yet. Scarlett may have acted like my mom was gone, but she also acted like she was auditioning for a role in a horror movie.

  “We should get going. We both have a ton of stuff to do tonight.” I hold up my crossed fingers. “Fingers crossed this damn thing starts up. If it doesn’t, I’m totally blaming Trysten.”

  She holds her breath as I twist the key. I was so convinced Trysten had done something to the car that the rumbling of the engine starting actually startles me.

  “Guess I was wrong about that one,” I breathe in relief.

  I drive out the parking lot, hoping I’m wrong about some of my other theories, as well.

  Chapter 10

  LOCATION: MAK’S HOUSE

  TIME: 10:38 PM

  DATE: WEDNESDAY, MARCH 24th

  Before I drop Ev off, I ask if she can also have her hacker friend look at my doctor records. Normally, she’d give me a lecture about how illegal that is, but all she does is nod and get out of the car.

  I’m worried about her. She’s usually so put together, all about order and structure, but now she seems a little out of it. I hope what’s happening doesn’t break her.

  I need to keep an eye on her, I vow to myself as I make the short drive to my house. Make sure she doesn’t fall apart.

  By the time I make it to the house, it’s well past ten. None of the lights are on inside and my mom’s car still isn’t in the driveway.

  I immediately rush inside, lock the door, and try to text and call her. When she doesn’t answer, I call her work. Apparently, she took the week off, which is news to me.

  In my last effort, I try to track her phone again, to no avail.

  My stomach churns with uneasiness as I recall the days after my dad vanished, how I felt the same worry I do now. My mom didn’t report him missing until several days later, insisting he’d show up. Legally, she could’ve reported his disappearance twenty-four hours after we’d last seen him, if we had reason to believe something bad had happened.

  Eighteen hours have passed since I last saw my mom, so I have another six before I can even phone the police and report my concern. I know the drill. I’ll have to triple-check with her work to make sure she hasn’t been coming in and any other places she might be. Even if I do end up having to report her missing, I doubt the police will put a lot of effort into searching for her, just like they didn’t with my dad.

  “Crap.” I swivel from side to side in the chair as I sit in front of the computer, staring at the map on the screen that shows my mom’s phone’s current location as untraceable.

  On a whim, I decide to call the customer service number listed on the site to see if perhaps the system is having issues. After giving the customer service representative our account info, she puts me on hold.

  A few minutes later, she gets back on the phone.

  “I’m sorry, but we’re currently having technical issues in our Shadow Cove area,” she tells me. “If you want, I can send this information down to tech and they can try to manually check the location of the phone. It might take a couple days.”

  “Do you know when the technical issues will be resolved?”

  “I’m sorry, but unfortunately, I don’t.”

  “Do you know what’s causing the issues?”

  “Unfortunately, I don’t know that, either. But Shadow Cove is listed as an area for high technical outages, which means issues like this are quite common there.”

  That’s news to me. Then again, the security systems in the school power out every other day …

  Sighing, I tell her, “Okay, yeah, if you could send this down to tech, that would be great.”

  “Great,” she says. “You’ll receive a callback from us probably by Friday. Now, is there anything else I can help you with?”

  Yeah, you could figure out what’s going on in my town. That would be great.

  “No, you’ve been very helpful,” I say routinely. “Thank you.”

  “You’re very welcome,” she says cheerfully. “Goodbye.”

  “Bye.” I hang up and return my focus to the computer, opening the search engine. My plan is to call the number on the help wanted ad Sawyer left in his closet floor so I can talk to the person who placed it, but before I do that in the morning, I want to find out who is the owner of the number
; see if it’ll pull up online.

  I quickly type the info in and holy jackpot, the number pops up on dozens of sites. As I start to scroll through them, I note a very common occurrence—the number is listed on several wanted ads. Ads for a dog walker, a groomer, a fashion consultant, a butler, a chauffeur. There are also puppies for sale, cars, designer shoes. The list goes on and on. Seriously, either the owner of the phone number has an obsession for wanted ads or the ads aren’t legit. What else could they be? Codes? A secret form of communication? I’ve heard of stuff like that before …

  “Wait …” I jump from the computer chair, dash to the nook in my father’s office, and skim over the notes and ads tacked to his wall, aka what my father referred to as his “trai1.”

  “Holy shit,” I whisper as I note the phone number listed.

  It’s the same number listed on the one Sawyer had in his office. On a couple of them, there’s also another number listed, and my dad has circled that one several times.

  Running back to the computer, I type in that number, as well. The same thing happens—countless help wanted ads pop up, along with an address. I’m about to give myself a high-five until I actually pay attention to the address

  “Lispy Larry’s alleged store,” I mutter to myself. “The freakin’ ghost house. You have got to be shitting me.” I open and flex my hands, thinking about how many missing people in Shadow Cove vanished close to that house. “I need to get inside it somehow.”

  My gaze travels to the window. Outside, the starry night sky stretches toward the mountains. Most of Shadow Cove’s citizens are probably nestled away in their beds. I could go now. Sneak over and at least take a peek in the windows. One thing holds me back, though—the town may be bugged or have spies roaming around. I wish I knew a way to figure out if there was, but that’s the one problem I can’t figure out how to find an answer.

  “Sawyer,” I whisper aloud. “Want to help me out here?”

  Only silence.

  He’s been pretty quiet for the last few hours, ever since I stuck my hand in that goo. Could that be causing Sawyer’s silence? He had shouted at me right before I touched it, like a warning.

  I lift my hand in front of me and examine my fingers. My skin looks fine. I feel fine. The only thing strange is the quietness inside my head. I may have thought I was going insane when I first heard his voice, but now … well, I want him to come back. The house is too quiet. Everything is too quiet.

  “Sawyer, are you there?” I practically beg. “Come on, please.”

  A dog howling outside is my only answer.

  Getting up from the chair, I take a quick shower to make sure I’m one-hundred percent clean of any creepy, potentially ghost silencing goo. Afterward, I return to my computer to do one final search before I crash for the night, and that’s for the dark blue car’s plate number.

  After I type it in, I cross my fingers and hit enter. “Please don’t let the site be down. Please, please, please—”

  The results ping through.

  The car is registered to an Alexander Garyinford, and the address listed is up on the wealthier side of town where Kennedy lives. Strange, since the car was nothing fancy. And double strange because I’ve never heard of the guy before. That doesn’t mean I’m not going to go check it out.

  I jot the address down then set my alarm for a couple hours earlier than usual so I can scope out the place before school starts and find out who this Alexander is. Then I climb into bed and try to fall asleep. But after tossing and turning, I give up, grab my skateboard, my tools, and the bearings Rylen gave me, and work on changing those until I finally doze off.

  Dressed in my pajama shorts and a thin T-shirt, I walk up the side of the mountain, heading to who knows where. The sky is cloudy above me, and the dirt is moist against my bare feet. The air is chilly, too chilly for me to be walking up the side of a mountain while practically wearing nothing.

  “Where are we going?” I shout to the figure in front of me.

  When he looks over his shoulder, I realize it’s Sawyer.

  “To a place where I can show you.”

  I rub my hands up and down my arms. “Show me what?”

  He just offers me a sad smile and continues up the mountain. “I won’t be able to talk to you for a while, unless you’re asleep.”

  “Why not?” I call out as the wind picks up.

  “I think you already know why.”

  “Because I stuck my hand in that green stuff?” When he doesn’t respond, I add, “What was it?”

  He stops as he reaches the top of the mountain and waits for me to catch up.

  “I can’t tell you everything, Mak,” he whispers softly as he stares out at the lake below. “If I could, I would’ve been able to help Dad.”

  I swallow the lump in my throat. “You talked to Dad?”

  He bobs his head up and down. “I did.”

  Goosebumps break out across my arms. “Did? As in, past tense?”

  “I haven’t spoken to Dad in a while,” he utters sadly. “I wish I could. I miss him.”

  “I miss him, too,” I whisper as my body begins to tremble. “Sawyer, is he …? Do you know…?” I suck in an inhale. “Is he dead?”

  When he gradually shakes his head from side to side, a rush of air escapes my lips.

  I turn toward him. “Do you know where he is?”

  He shakes his head again.

  My chest tightens. “What about you?”

  He doesn’t look at me. “What about me?”

  “Are you …? Are you dead?”

  “I think you already know the answer to that, Mak.”

  Deep down, I think I do. Unlike my dad, my brother was found in the very lake that’s below us now.

  Tears burn my eyes, but I suck them back. “I’m sorry, Sawyer. I’m sorry this happened to you. I’m sorry that I was mean to you the last time we spoke to each other. Well, in real life.”

  “You don’t need to be sorry. What happened to me isn’t your fault. It was my own fault … and theirs.” Anger flashes in his eyes as bright as the lightning snapping across the clouds.

  I jump at the sound of thunder. “Who’s they?”

  Closing his eyes, he lifts his hand and points at the lake. “Do you see it?”

  “The lake? Yeah, I see it,” I say in confusion.

  “No, you don’t.” He points firmly at the lake again. “Look closer.”

  Exhaling, I step to the ledge and peer down at the water. The longer I stare, the more the water begins to ripple, the surface changing, shifting, turning a slimy green—

  Beep. Beep. Beep.

  My alarm sirens off, yanking me from the dream.

  I sit up, feeling disoriented and groggy as I hit the snooze button. My head is pounding, my heart is racing, and I have the worst taste in my mouth, like I ate a bunch of rotten eggs.

  The dream is vivid in my mind, just like the dream I had when Sawyer led me to his closet.

  “What are you trying to tell me, Sawyer?” I stare up at the ceiling. “That you want me to climb up the mountain and look at the lake? That Dad isn’t dead? If that’s true, then where the hell is he?”

  He doesn’t answer, but he did mention in the dream that he couldn’t talk to me for a while unless I’m asleep. I shut my eyes and try to drift back to dreamland, but my alarm goes off again. Just like that, I’m wide awake.

  Throwing the covers off, I drag my ass out of bed, and go into my mom’s room. Like when I peeked in last night, the bed is made, the floor is covered in clothes, and the closet light is on. From what I can tell, she hasn’t been home.

  After I shower and get dressed in a holey pair of jeans, a grey shirt with a plaid overshirt, my favorite pair of sneakers, and the necklace, I go through the ritual of trying to track down my mom again. No luck.

  I check the time and sigh. I can report her missing, but I want to give myself twenty-four more hours to find her myself, since I’d rather not get the police involved.
/>   Grabbing my bag, my skateboard, and a couple of granola bars, I head out of the house. This early in the morning, the sun isn’t even up yet. The sky is a deep grey.

  Once I toss my board and bag into the trunk of my car, I slide into the driver’s seat and dig my phone out of my pocket to see if any of my friends have messaged me yet. None of them have, so I send out a thread.

  Me: Call me when you guys wake up. I found out a couple of things last night.

  I then punch Alexander Garyinford’s address in the GPS of my phone and drive forward, double-checking in my rearview mirror that I’m not being followed.

  Surprisingly, the streets are empty, the neighborhood quiet, not a single car or person in sight. Everything is so still.

  Perhaps a little too still. As if the town is just a ghost.

  Chapter 11

  LOCATION: OUTSIDE OF THE GATE OF ALEXANDER GARYINFORD’S MANSION

  TIME: 6:26 AM

  DATE: WEDNESDAY, MARCH 24th

  Alexander’s place is similar to Kennedy’s—a couple of stories, with a large columned entryway and a massive iron gate in front of the driveway. Pulling up to the house is impossible unless I’m buzzed in, and parking out front isn’t an option unless I want to park in the street. Instead, I drive up the road to a hill that overlooks the five acres of land just behind the house. The area is a local hotspot for runners, so it’s not too strange for me to be up here—well, maybe not for the people who actually know me and understand how much I hate running.

  The shitty part is I can’t see the front door, though the garage is in plain sight. When he pulls out, I should be able to see. Then I can tail him until I get a clear view of who this dude is that made the necklace scald my skin so badly it left blisters.

  I’ve been parked for about ten minutes and have made it halfway through my coffee when my phone buzzes from the console with an incoming call from Kennedy.