55. Jude
Chapter 55
Jude
I watch Harper from my bedroom window, and I swear I can hear several bottles clinking together in her backpack.
Never thought she had it in her to break a fucking window. I like this new Harper. Fierce, determined. It makes it easier to forget the pathetic, broken Harper I’d abandoned in the screening room yesterday afternoon.
I’ve vowed never to drink again. I got so violently ill yesterday, I swear I started throwing up my stomach lining. Christ knows how Harper does it day after day. But I guess when there’s that much shit you need to blackout, alcohol is a better option than hard drugs.
Dinner was stiff and awkward last night. It would have been worse with her there so I’m fucking glad she kept to her room. Diana said she was having “lady problems” but I know for a fact she wasn’t on her period. No. Harper was having a different kind of “lady problem”.
I still can’t believe it went off without a hitch.
With Sean and Eric’s faces blurred, Daniel had no issue forwarding the edited video to his entire address book. I guess the ten thousand dollars I wired him helped ease his mind.
Weirdly, though, besides the message from Daniel telling me it was done, I haven’t heard from anyone at school. Not even Alex. If there was a moment I thought our friendship was salvageable, it’s passed. If he’d been any kind of a friend, he’d have called me to tell me about the leaked video . He must have realized it was edited when he saw it. But for some reason, he doesn’t seem in the least inclined to safeguard her reputation.
Huh. I guess we still have something in common…because neither do I.
Diana calls just after eleven. I don’t know it’s her until I answer, and then I wish I’d had her number saved just so I could screen this call.
“Jude? Jude, honey, it’s Diana.”
“Yeah.” I roll my eyes and rub my lids. I’d just managed to stop thinking about Harper for all of one minute, and then her mother calls. Great. “What’s up?”
“Is Harper at home?”
My chest tightens. “No, why?”
“She went to school this morning?”
“I guess.”
“You didn’t see her leave?”
“I didn’t know I was supposed to be stalking her.”
If Diana thinks anything about my tone, she doesn’t mention it. “Jude, honey, could you please check if she’s in her room? The school just called and said she hasn’t been to any of her classes today.”
Christ, woman. I sigh into the phone, already heading for her room. I would have known if she’d come back. She’s probably halfway to whatever her version of my lake house is. California, maybe? She’s the type to enjoy living by the ocean.
“She’s not here,” I tell Diana as soon as I push open Harper’s bedroom door. “And I heard her leave this morning, so...”
“Damn,” Diana breathes into the phone. “Do you know where she could be? Maybe that friend of hers, Miranda or something?”
Way to go, Diana. “Marissa,” I correct bluntly. “And no, Marissa’s not the kind to ditch.”
“So you have no idea where she is? Who she might be with?”
Oh yeah, I just remembered. She has a date with Mr. Bailey. They’re gonna have themselves a real good time.
“You try calling her?”
“Her phone’s off.” Diana’s voice wobbles like she’s about to start crying.
Eager to end the call, I say, “If I hear something I’ll let you know.”
“Thanks, honey.” Diana hangs up and I shove my phone in my pocket.
Harper’s room feels emptier than it should. I rake my eyes over the place, trying to figure out if she took something sentimental with her, something that would leave a void. But I don’t remember ever seeing a framed photograph or an ornament or a plushie anywhere. I go to her dresser drawer and open it. There’s a stick of mascara in there, but the lid is loose and there are bits of crumbling black shit caked around the seam.
All her clothes still seem to be in the closet. At least, I can’t spot any obvious gaps where she took something out. All she left with was a backpack, so maybe she just went to go chill somewhere.
Or maybe she was going to school, and she never made it.
So fucking what? I push away the thought and the weirdly intense dread that came with it.
I couldn’t give less fucks where she’s gone too, but for some reason, I end up searching her room again anyway.
She hid her phone under her mattress.
I stare at it for a long time, wracking my mind to figure out why she’d leave it. Maybe she kept getting lewd calls or dick pics. I wouldn’t put it past the guys in Cinderhart High.
Christ, why am I suddenly starting to regret this? I guess because my plan never included Harper running away like?—
the little mouse she is.
Yeah, fuck. I should have seen this coming.
My dad comes home early that night, and he pulls up a second before Diana does. I’d just finished watching the entire Moana movie with Rosie. Not like I had anything better to do—I’ve already spent three hours in the gym today. We’re in the kitchen getting a late afternoon snack when Dad barges through the front door.
“Is she back?”
I blink at him and slowly put down the butter knife I’d been using to make Rosie’s PB and J. “Hi Dad. Nice to see you?—”
“Seriously, Jude?” His face is a storm. “Just answer the damn question.”
“She’s not here. Hasn’t been all day.”
“Christ.” Dad rakes fingers through his hair as he spins to face the doorway. Diana comes through, her normally glossy platinum blond hair pulled into an untidy ponytail that somehow makes her look older.
She stares at me, but it’s like she sees through me. “Have you seen?—”
“No, he hasn’t,” Dad cuts in before she can finish. “I’m calling the station.”
“You’re getting the sheriff involved?” I blurt out, crossing my arms. I don’t know if it’s the mirth in my voice or the incredulous expression on my face, but Dad looks like he wants to punch me. “It hasn’t even been twenty-four hours yet.”
“Do you think this is a joke?” Dad asks. “Your sister is missing, Jude. The sooner?—”
“But they won’t even do anything until?—”
“I don’t give a shit!” Dad’s voice booms off the kitchen walls.
I let my arms drop, step back. I’ve never seen him like this. He looks...
Terrified.
What the fuck is this? Just because she missed roll call and didn’t go to any of her classes doesn’t mean she’s not at school.She’s not fucking missing—she’s probably in some hidey-hole at school, drunk out of her mind.
I just wish she had her phone on her so they could track it and find her.
“She’ll turn up,” I say, slapping Rosie’s sandwich closed and cutting it into quarters. She’s silent on her stool, her eyes so big it looks like they’re going to pop out of her face.She always does this in a crisis. I guess it’s her way of coping. When I slide her plate in front of her, she doesn’t even seem to register that it’s there.
But Dad already has his phone out, and I’m pretty sure it’s the sheriff’s office he’s dialing.Diana is moving through the open-plan ground floor of our house like she’s hunting for clues.
“I’m going to my room,” I mutter, grabbing an apple from the bowl on the way. “Let me know when she shows up.”
I’m not even halfway up the stairs when I hear Diana yell, “Wayne! Wayne!”
Christ, took them long enough.
I trot back downstairs and out into the pool area. Diana has her hands pressed to her chest, staring down at the glittering shards of glass from the broken pool house window. Wayne puts his hands on his hips, turning to me with a grim look on his face.
“What...” I trail off and try to act surprised when I see the glass. “That wasn’t there yesterday.”
“You didn’t see what happened?” my dad asks.
“I’ve been in my room the whole day.”
“Rosie didn’t go for a swim today?”
No. I made a point of that.
“We were watching a movie.” I don’t have to pretend that he’s pissing me off. “Why the hell are you interrogating me? I didn’t run away!”
“You think she ran away?” Diana snorts. “Why would she do that? It doesn’t make?—”
“Enough, Diana.” Dad’s eyes cut through me. “Let’s not jump to conclusions.”
As if that’s not exactly what they’ve been doing this whole time. “It must have been Harper.”
“What?” Diana says. “That makes no sense! Why would she?—”
I walk past them and push open the door. Then I wave a hand toward the bar. “When last did you do inventory? Because I’m pretty sure there’ll be less than you remember.”
Wayne and Diana stare at me like I’ve grown horns. Just shows how little attention they’ve been paying. I’ve had them for a while, ever since Harper moved in.
“You didn’t know she was alcoholic?” I cross my arms and shake my head. “Huh. Guess you guys were too busy with other things.”
Dad looks like he’s about to throttle me—or have a heart attack. I’m not quite sure. “Why is this the first time I’m hearing about it?” he growls.
“You believe him?” Diana says, grabbing my dad’s sleeve and trying to turn him to face me.
He shrugs her off without looking. “How long has this been going on?”
“Ever since she moved in.” I cut my eyes to Diana. “You can’t tell me you didn’t know.”
“Don’t you dare speak to me like that!” Diana steps forward, but Dad grabs her shoulders and pulls her back before she can enter the pool house.
“Go upstairs,” he says. “I’ll handle this.”
Diana points a shaking finger at me. “But he’s?—”
“Diana.”
My stepmother’s arm drops, and her throat moves as she forces a hard swallow. “Your son is out of control.”
Dad says nothing as she leaves. Says nothing as he steps into the pool house and regards the bottles of booze behind the bar. I doubt he even has any idea how many there are supposed to be...but the gaps where a bottle of Jim Beam and Baileys were are blatantly obvious.
Then he turns and heads outside.
I wait a beat, and then follow, frowning. “Dad?”
His silence is freaking me out. I break into a trot to catch up to him and follow right behind as he heads to the front door. There’s a keyholder against the wall where we all hang our car keys. He takes the Range Rover’s keys off their hook and puts them in his pocket. I’m still opening my mouth to protest when he turns and holds out his hand. “Phone.”
My stomach sinks straight into hell. “What? Why?”
“Because I’m your goddamn father, and I said so.”
A part of me still wants to protest, but that’s the dipshit part of me that’s going to get me belted. Trembling with frustration, I dig in my pocket and hand over my phone.
Dad puts it in his suit pocket. “Is there anything else you’re not telling me?”
I stare right back, not batting an eyelash.
“Anything, son.”
I shrug. “Bailey’s was her favorite.”
I expect him to slap me. That’s his MO. But it’s as if those words deplete his energy reserves. His shoulders sag, and the furious glint in his eyes fades.
He ducks his head and runs his knuckles over his mouth. “Go to your room.”
“With pleasure.”