Wish You Were Dead

party, never to be seen or heard from again. Her disappearance came roughly two weeks after her best friend, Molly Lincoln, mysteriously vanished after being dropped at her house by her boyfriend late at night.

A few months later, a hunter discovered Molly’s remains in some woods about five miles from her home. Aside from an undisclosed “mutilation” the police refuse to divulge for fear of compromising their investigation, her remains showed no other sign of trauma or poisoning and medical examiners were unable to identify the exact cause of death, although traces of an animal anesthetic called halothane were found on her clothes.

Despite repeated and extensive searches, Megan Woodworth’s body has not been found.

Sitting in her kitchen in this well-to-do suburb of Kansas City, Ellen Woodworth talks about what life has been like for the past year. “We live between misery and despair and hope. There’s no in-between. Sometimes I feel like I’m breathing, but I’m not alive. I’m taking care of things, but nothing makes sense. One of the things I hate most is how Megan’s brother and sister are suffering because I can’t be the mother to them that I once was.”

There are other frustrations as well. Despite the fact that Molly and Megan were best friends and disappeared within weeks of each other, the police have not been able to connect the two incidents. “Obviously, it’s very tempting to say the two cases are related,” says Shawnee Mission Police Chief Edward James. “But right now we have one unexplained death that appears to be murder, and one missing person. If we knew for certain that Megan had been abducted, or was the victim of foul play, we might be able to conduct the investigation differently. But we have no leads and nothing to go on. People ask, ‘Are you still looking for her?’ and our answer is, ‘Where do we look?’ ”

Ellen Woodworth shares Chief James’s frustration. “We both want to get Megan back and we both want to stop whomever was behind this from doing it again,” she said. “Chief James has given me access to all kinds of databases. I look at them all the time because they’re constantly being updated. I wish he could give Megan’s case more of his time, but he has a police department to run, and, of course, Molly’s parents need answers, too.”

Unlike Ellen Woodworth, Molly Lincoln’s parents do not vacillate between hope and despair. For them there is only despair. “We still can’t understand it,” said Howard Lincoln, a prominent Shawnee Mission lawyer. “Molly was a popular, fun-loving girl. Everybody liked her. Why would anyone do this to her?”

The story sounded disturbingly familiar. Halothane was involved. Both girls were popular. Mysterious mutilation? What could that be about?

The problem with texts, e-mails, and phone conversations is you can’t see the face of the person you’re talking to. Most of the time it doesn’t matter, or you can use emoticons, but I wanted to talk to Tyler, and I wanted to see his face when I did.

Dad was away on a trip and Mom had an important board meeting at the hospital. Since I wasn’t allowed to go anywhere at night, I called Tyler and asked if he would come over.

“Why?” he asked, sounding surprised.

“I have to talk to you about something.”

“Well, here I am. Talk away.”

“In person, Tyler. Please? It’s important.”

Half an hour later, the guard called me from the gatehouse and asked if it was all right to let Tyler Starling through. I said it was and waited by the front door while he drove up the driveway and parked in the circle. He got out of his car and gave me a perplexed look. “Hi.”

I held the door open for him. “Thanks for coming.”

Tyler stepped into the house and looked around with that slightly wondrous expression most people displayed on their first visit. Sometimes people said, “Quite a place you have here,” or “Nice digs,” but Tyler preferred to remain silent. I led him into the kitchen, and he gazed out the windows at the glass-enclosed indoor-outdoor pool.

“Someone likes to swim?” he asked.

“My mom, mostly. Would you like something?”

“Sure. How about, ‘Why did you want to see me?’ ”

I gestured for him to sit down at the kitchen table. “You work at the garage?”

Tyler leaned back and stared at me. “That’s what you called me here to ask?”

“I’m just wondering why you didn’t tell me.”

“Oh, sure, Madison, that’s just what I’d want everyone to know. That I’m a closet gearhead. Then I’d really fit in around here.”

“I thought you didn’t care about fitting in.”

“Look, I’m not ashamed that I work there, okay?” he said. “I just don’t see the point in broadcasting it. You know people have preconceived notions about the kind of guys who like to work on cars.”

I couldn’t help a small smile.

“What’s so funny?” he asked.

“You’re just”—I wasn’t sure how to say it—“complicated.” Tyler smirked.

“Did you change the tires on my car?” I asked.

He frowned. I could see that he had no idea what I was getting at. “Matter of fact, I did. Why? Did I do something wrong?”

“Did you also leave a note in it?”

He scowled. “No.”

“You sure?”

“I think I’d know if I left a note. Why? What did it say?”

I didn’t want to tell him. Instead, I said, “Tyler, where do you come from?”

Consternation deepened the furrows in his forehead. “What is this?”

“I’m just asking where you come from.”

“Why? And why am I being interrogated by you? Am I under suspicion for something? Who gives you the right to ask me this stuff?”

“Is there a reason why you won’t tell me where you come from?”

He placed his hands on the table and started to get up. The part of me that was attracted to him didn’t want him to go. But the part of me that was frightened of him did. I watched him stand, and good manners dictated that I do the same. I followed him out of the kitchen and down the hall toward the front door. All kinds of things whirled around in my head. I felt tempted to apologize for being nosey, but I did want to know where he was from, and I didn’t feel that was something I had to be sorry about.

He reached for the door, but it was locked and he wound up yanking haplessly at the handle.

“Let me do it.” I opened the door and turned to face him. The cold air rushed in around us. This was as close as we’d ever stood. Our eyes locked and suddenly everything changed. He gave me a curious, uncertain look. It was like neither of us was sure what we were doing. But I was no longer wondering where he was from, or what had happened to my friends. I was only thinking about how many times in the past month I’d imagined this moment.

His face moved closer, then stopped, as if he was asking if it was okay.

I closed my eyes and lifted my mouth to his. A moment later I felt his lips on mine.

It was a long, passionate kiss. The kind of kiss you don’t want to end. Since it was completely unexpected, I was surprised, but even more surprised by the urgent passion I felt from Tyler. He slid his arms around me and pulled me to him. Was it possible that he’d been yearning for this as much as I had? I put my arms around him, felt his back under my hands as I pressed against him. I wasn’t thinking about anything except this moment—this kiss, this embrace—and staying in it as long as I could.

It was only the cold that made it end. Tyler pulled his lips away. “You’re shivering.”

“It’s okay,” I said, my arms still around him, not wanting to let go.

Our eyes met again. This time, his were softer but no less intense. “Listen to me,” he said in a low voice. “There are things … you don’t know about. You have no idea what’s going on. The best thing you can do is stay out of it. Don’t go to parties. Not that there’ll be any from now on. Don’t go anywhere at night, especially alone.”

He started to back away, but I held on to his jacket. “If you know something, why don’t you go to the police?”

He shook his head. “No way. I have to go.”