I couldn’t confront Brian. He would deny involvement, anyway. But he might do something worse. He might hurt me to cover his tracks. Thus far, I was the only person connecting him to the crimes.
What if I was wrong? What if this was just my sibling brain pulling tricks? Maybe there was a logical reason why he had the IDs. I retrieved the folder from my closet and stared at the tip line phone number. Earlier, I’d convinced myself I needed proof. I’d found that, and yet I still wasn’t sure what to do.
It was after midnight. I made sure my door was locked and huddled into the back of my closet. I pulled a sweatshirt over my head to muffle my words in case someone walked by my door.
I dialed the number.
“Crime Tips,” said a nasal voice on the other end. I’d been expecting an automated system, not a real live person.
“Is this where you call if you have information about a crime?” I asked.
“This line is devoted to the SCU girls.”
“Is it anonymous?”
“Uh huh,” she said. It sounded like she was clacking her tongue. “Are you a SCU student?”
“I, um, yeah.” I didn’t know what to say. Wasn’t sure I was ready.
“If you need counseling, I can transfer you.” She sounded sympathetic. I wondered if other female students reached out for reassurance in the wake of the scandal. A scandal Brian caused. My throat closed in, and I felt like I might cry.
“Can you tell me if you’ve uncovered their IDs?” I asked.
“Speak up,” she said. “Can’t hear you.”
I moved my sweater away from the receiver.
“Did you find their IDs?” I repeated. “The missing girls?”
All I could hear was clicking and breathing on the other end. “Hold a moment.”
The background noise mellowed, and I heard a faint melody. They transferred my call.
“Yeah,” said a voice. This time male.
“Um, I was calling about the missing girls.”
“Yes,” he said. “Who am I speaking with?”
“I, um. I’m Amber.” It was the first female name to enter my brain.
“I’m Detective Jeffries with the Sterling Cove Police Department,” he said. “Do you have information that could help us with this case?”
“I… I don’t know.”
“Look, Amber. Tell me what you know, and we’ll go from there. You were asking about IDs. Is that right?”
“I’m sorry,” I said, and hung up. The phone thumped against the carpet. I leaned forward, put my head in my hands and cried.
I’m not sure when I fell asleep. Each day I woke up feeling worse. My indecision over what to do intensified. I needed to turn Brian in. Responsible, objective people should work out his innocence or guilt. I shivered at the thought of seeing his smug, calculating face one more time.
It was near noon when I stumbled down the stairs. Mom stood at the stove making pancakes.
“Feel any better?” she asked.
“Somewhat,” I said, taking a seat at the table. I looked around. The house seemed too quiet. “Where’s Brian?”
“In bed,” Mom said, still in her bathrobe. “I hope he doesn’t stay out so late at school. He’ll drop out like all the others.”
“Brian went out last night?” A bolt of desperation surged through me. “Where did he go?”
“Just met up with some of the neighborhood kids.”
Neighborhood kids. Who were they? Danny wasn’t in town. It wasn’t a holiday break, just a random weekend. Who knew if any of his old high school friends were even here?
“Did he say who he was with?” I asked.
“My goodness, Della. Why so nosy?”
Just then, I heard Brian coming down the stairs. He walked into the kitchen wearing flannel bottoms and an SCU shirt. He sat beside me at the table, smelling like soap.
“Late night, huh?” Mom looked over her shoulder at Brian. “Eat some pancakes.”
Brian didn’t speak much. I watched him eat. He took large, thick bites, like a person who had gone too hard last night. Like a person who needed to refuel to wake up. I wanted to ask him where he’d been, but Mom pestered him to finish eating and get ready. She was taking him to stock up on groceries before he returned to SCU. I was ready for him to be gone.
My head pounded. What little food I’d consumed over the weekend had been mostly thrown up, and my skin was grimy from all the sweat and tears. When they left, I took a shower in the hallway bathroom.
The water was hot, and the pressure was hard. Under the thundering stream, I felt momentary solace. I cried hard. I even screamed. My anguish came out so heavily I struggled to catch my breath. I couldn’t distinguish my tears from the faucet’s pour. I felt like I’d aged a decade in a weekend. Part of me wished I could go back to the simple unknowing of last week; another part of me resented being so naïve.
My arms were slightly red from the heat and my fingertips and feet had pruned. I turned off the water, enjoying the cool air as it hit my damp skin. I wrapped a towel around my body. When I exited the bathroom, Brian was standing in the hallway. I took a deep breath and stepped back. I wasn’t expecting to see anyone, especially him.
“Brian,” I said. I couldn’t fake one more smile, so I just stared. “What are you doing here?”
“Mom forgot her wallet.” He wiggled it in his hand.
“Oh.” I looked down, hoping I could make it to my bedroom and shut the door.
Brian grabbed my arm as I passed, his fingers sinking into my flesh. “What’s going on with
