The Bakersville Dozen Page 2

  Sylvie said that the items were supposed to keep the girls in everyone’s thoughts so that we’d never stop searching. I thought she was crazy—no one would ever forget. Every single girl had hit the prime of her life the month before the kidnappings began, from college acceptance letters to team championships, these girls had it all. It was no wonder the police had struggled to find my place in the mix. I was nothing if not ordinary.

  There were pictures, too, candid moment of each girl’s high school life, blown up and hanging from the ceiling by fishing line. The display was framed with a cluster of notes, song lyrics, poems, and pictures, taped around the glass front of the case. I knew every detail because, under the expert direction of Sylvie Warner, along with the remaining Bakersville Dozen girls, I’d helped put the display together.

  The way I looked at it, the entire thing was just a reminder of what had been lost. I wasn’t stupid. I knew the statistics. Those girls . . . they had to be dead.

  “We will never forget you,” Jude said, his voice wavering. “We will never stop searching for you or hoping for your safe return.”

  My eyes started to sting. As I squeezed them tight, each girl flashed like a slideshow on the backs of my eyelids.

  “Bailey,” Hannah whispered, her hand gripping my wrist. “Are you okay?”

  I opened my eyes, finding Hannah’s face inches from my own, the smell of her strawberry bubblegum breath washing over me.

  “I’m fine.” I pulled away, backing into Hoodie Guy, who was suddenly there again.

  “Hey, Like a Virgin,” he said with a wink. I shoved past him, weaving through the crowd. Jude caught me as I moved toward the edge of the atrium, his eyes clouded with concern. I gave him a little wave and mouthed the two words once again. I’m fine. The refrain echoed through my head as I pushed through the crowd toward my locker.

  I took a deep breath, and then another, reminding myself again and again that I was fine. That I would stay fine. That I would not end up like those girls.

  By the time I was halfway down the hall, I’d shaken off my panic. As much as I could anyway. I felt better—more steady—as I reached my locker. Behind me, the hall rumbled with oncoming traffic as the crowd in the atrium broke apart.

  With no time to prepare, I wasn’t ready when she glided up to my side. I startled like a scared animal, and instantly hated myself for not being able to control my reaction.

  “What’s up?” Sylvie asked. “Did you not get my text? I wanted us all to stand together for the ceremony?”

  “I got it,” I said, with a shrug. “Just wanted to hang with Hannah. I’ve lost a lot of time with her this year. It hit me today and I just needed to—”

  “You know how important it is for all of us to stick together. When people see us, they see the others, and that might prompt someone to join a search team or just pay more attention at a crucial moment. It could make all the difference in finding the other girls and bringing them home. Or finding the kidnapper so no one else goes missing.”

  “I get it.” I sighed and leaned back against my locker. “But it’s the last day of high school, Sylvie. Don’t you ever want to just feel normal?”

  Sylvie narrowed her eyes. “We aren’t normal, Bailey.”

  “Doesn’t that part ever piss you off?”

  “That would be a waste of energy. We need to stay focused on what’s most important—we cannot forget the girls.”

  “God, Sylvie.” I pushed off the locker with more force than I’d intended. “You really think—”

  “Bailey, don’t—”

  I leaned in, my voice shaking as I reached out and gripped Sylvie’s hands. “No one wants to say it—the truth—but we’re all thinking it.”

  “Don’t.” Sylvie yanked her hands from mine, pressing her arms to her sides.

  “I have to bail on the thing at your house tomorrow night.”

  “But we have to stick together. If we’re together—”

  “—we’ll be safe,” I said, rolling my eyes. “I’ve heard it a hundred times. I’m not buying it anymore.”

  “If you pull away from the rest of us, you might as well call the media and tell them you’re next.”

  “Seriously?”

  “There’ll be police surveillance at my party.” Sylvie widened her eyes. “No one will be able to get to us. If you go off on your own, you’re easy bait.”

  “Last time I checked, I’m not the one they call easy.”

  Sylvie gave me a disgusted little grunt, then turned and walked away, her hands balled in tight fists.

  I turned to my locker, feeling a little bad for throwing a line from the video in her face, but she kind of deserved it. Besides, lashing out had taken a little of the pressure off. I might not be able to do everything I wanted, but I sure as hell didn’t have to follow all of Sylvie Warner’s rules.

  I spun the dial on the circular lock. The metal groaned as I yanked the door open onto five spiral notebooks and the yearbook I’d picked up at lunch. I shoved the yearbook into my backpack first. As I reached to grab the notebooks, I glanced at the collage of photographs I’d spent four years plastering to the inside of my locker door.

  That’s when I saw it.

  A dark red envelope with my name—BAILEY HOLZMAN—printed across the front in caps.

  A little thrill rippled through me. The message was from Jude, no doubt. He was known for leaving me notes in random places—tucked into pockets of my jacket, jeans, and purse, slid between the pages of my textbooks, folded under my pillow, hidden in a pair of my fuzzy winter gloves. This was totally his style. And it was exactly what I needed.

  Dropping my notebooks, I ripped the envelope from the door, and slipped my finger under the flap, drawing out a thick square of cream-colored cardstock, the font on the outside a perfect match.

  I turned, leaning against the bank of lockers, and bowed my head, biting my lip to keep from smiling as I read the words at the top of the card:

  THE SCAVENGER HUNT

  THOUGHT YOU MIGHT NEED

  A DISTRACTION,

  SO I PLANNED A LITTLE GAME.

  THE OBJECTIVE IS SIMPLE:

  YOU HAVE FOUR DAYS

  TO LOCATE FIVE TREASURED TROPHIES.

  EACH CLUE WILL GUIDE YOU

  TO WHERE AND WHEN

  YOU CAN FIND THE NEXT.

  THE MOST IMPORTANT RULE FOR NOW:

  PLAY THROUGH TO THE END.

  QUIT AND YOU’LL FACE A SERIOUS PENALTY.

  READY? SET . . .

  GO DIRECTLY TO YOUR SUMMER’S MOST CHERISHED SPOT.

  CLIMB UP HIGH SO YOU CAN SEARCH DOWN LOW.

  WHAT YOU SEEK IS HIDING IN A SEA OF TALL GRASS.

  HAPPY HUNTING!

  CHAPTER 2

  2:57 PM

  “A scavenger hunt?” Hannah asked, steering her silver Escape off the curved, back-country road that ran along the outskirts of our little Ohio farm town. The car swayed, its tires unsteady on the gravel-lined drive that led to my house. She’d seemed preoccupied for most of the ride, worried even, so I’d thrown out the news about the hunt to bring her focus back to the present. “Jude has got to be the most romantic guy in the entire world.”

  “I know.” I closed my eyes and turned my face toward the open passenger window letting the warm breeze toss my hair as I breathed in the scent of freshly-cut grass.

  “Seriously. You and your whole ‘Cutest Couple’ thing make me sick.” Hannah snorted as she steered the car between my house and the Greens’, the only neighbors within a mile. My eyes were still closed, but I knew exactly where we were as the car dipped around a curve.

  “I can’t wait to see what he has planned.” My eyes fluttered open as Hannah pulled the car to a stop at the end of the drive. While she checked her phone, I lost myself in the line of trees swaying a hundred feet in front of us, the northern border leading to a complex web of wooded trails that spiraled out for miles. Hannah sighed with what sounded like relief, but I didn’t get the chance to ask wh
y before she slipped her phone in the side pocket of her purse and launched us back into the discussion of the hunt.

  “Okay, so, your summer’s most treasured spot? It’s obvious where you need to go.”

  “I think that was the point.”

  “Want me to come with?”

  “Nah,” I said. “I’m good.”

  “You’re sure?” Hannah asked, narrowing her eyes.

  “It’s just a little walk. I’ll be fine.”

  “Right. But you’re sure this is Jude? I mean, what if—”

  “I already thought of that, okay? I’m not stupid.”

  “That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”

  “It’s Jude’s thing. He’s been leaving me random notes since the day we started dating.”

  Hannah shrugged. “I’m just spooked with everything going on. Not to mention the police presence during Last Day Ceremony. I don’t love the idea of you going off on your own.”

  “It’s not like you have a choice,” I said. “It’s the first fun thing I’ve had to look forward to in a long time. I’m sick of not being able to do anything. My parents have been hovering over me for the last five months, afraid I’m going to disappear in front of their eyes. I feel like I’ve been trapped, living in a cage since the day Leena went missing—one of those see-through deals they have at the zoo. I swear, I know how those poor gorillas feel, Han. It’s not pretty.”

  Hannah glanced back toward the pair of houses sitting behind us, biting her bottom lip. “Fine. I’ll go in. Say hey to your brother and see if he can score us some beverages for tomorrow night. But I’ll time you. Send in reinforcements if you take longer than fifteen minutes. Or if you fail to reply to any of my check-in texts, which you’ll receive roughly every three minutes. No arguments. Capiche?”

  “Sounds like a plan,” I said, opening the door of the Escape. “I won’t be too long.”

  As soon as my sandals crunched on the gravel, I heard it. The high-pitched wail of the Greens’ screen door, opening and then slamming closed. I swiveled toward the back barn, looking up at the peeling paint on the tree house my father had built with Mr. Green when I was seven.

  “Ladies,” a deep voice said. “Been a long time.”

  I let my breath flow slowly from my lips as I turned around. I could do this—had to do this—no matter what.

  “Wes!” Hannah called, rushing the tall, solid figure walking toward us, arms outstretched as she leaped to pull him into a hug.

  “Hannah Banana.”

  “You know I hate that name.” She smacked his shoulder as she pulled away from him, then made a show of looking him up and down. “Freshman year was good to you. You’re looking hotter than ever.”

  “As are you,” he said, giving Hannah a wink. He grabbed her hand and twirled her in a circle, her dress fanning up as his eyes found mine. The deep green went dark with an emotion I’d never be able to decipher. Wes Green had always been the most confusing thing in my world. He nodded to me as Hannah stopped twirling, then stepped back. “Hey, Bailey.”

  It was the first thing he’d said to me in five months.

  “Hey,” I said, taking in all the ways that he’d changed. His hair was longer, his shoulders broader beneath his plain white T-shirt, his cargo shorts slung a little lower on his hips. “How was the drive home?”

  He shrugged and ran a hand through his hair, so blond in the sun it looked like gold set on fire. “Mind-numbing, as always. But your brother blasted some new indie bands the entire way back, so it went fast enough.”

  “You get in today?” Hannah tossed her hair across one spaghetti-strapped shoulder.

  “Nah. Late last night.” Wes was still looking directly at me.

  I shrugged, like I couldn’t have cared less. But I knew exactly when they’d pulled into the drive—2:17 AM. I’d waited up, my room washed in darkness as I leaned against the walls of my cushioned window seat, so I could have one glance with no one else watching. I thought it might ground me, but when I watched Wes step out of my brother’s Jeep and stretch his arms over his head, panic had set in. After everything, I was going to have to face him.

  But not like this. I refused for it to go like this.

  “Look,” I said, worried that Hannah would pick up on the awkward vibe, “it’s good to see you, but I gotta go.”

  Wes cocked his head to the side, his eyes going dark again.

  “She’s on a mission,” Hannah said.

  Wes gave me a forced half-smile. “Sounds mysterious.”

  “No.” The word came out harsher than I’d intended. “It’s not.”

  “Go,” Hannah said, looping her arm in Wes’s. “We’ll hang with Tripp. We can chat party details until you’re back.”

  “I was actually leaving,” Wes said. “I have this thing with—”

  “Not anymore,” Hannah said, tugging Wes a few steps toward my house. “I want a full update of your college experience, minus the more private moments.”

  “Nothing to tell.” Wes shook his head, a smile playing on his lips. “Honest.”

  “Shut it, Wes,” Hannah said. “I know you. Once a player, always a player. You can tell me how many hearts you broke while we wait.”

  “He has plans,” I said, standing a little taller. “Just let him go, Han.”

  “It’s not a big deal,” Wes said. “I can reschedule.”

  “Perfect,” I said. Except the entire situation was anything but.

  CHAPTER 3

  3:06 PM

  As my feet hit the trail, the earthy scent of early-June air rushed into my lungs. Trees rose from the ground on both sides of me, closing in the farther I walked into the woods. I took the first trail on my right and followed the curve down a small hill until I hit a fork, one path leading to the back of Sydney Village, a ritzy development that had gone up when I was in middle school, and the other to the first location in Jude’s scavenger hunt.

  It had been months since I’d been in the woods. Five months and one day, I realized. The last time I’d been out on these trails, it had been winter, and snow had crunched beneath my feet.

  Turning left, I walked toward an opening along one side of the trail and saw it—my summer’s most treasured spot—the large pond that connected our property with several others.

  I walked along the edge of the pond, watching the sunlight flicker across its surface. When I reached a tree on the opposite side, I stopped, placing my hand on a wooden plank hammered into the trunk—the bottom of the makeshift ladder Tripp and Wes had made over a decade ago. A knotted rope still hung from the thick branch that extended over the water. Chickens swung in. The bravest climbed up to that limb and made the twenty-foot leap into the water below. I’d been nine when I graduated from Chicken Little to Bailey the Brave.

  Turning in a slow circle, I squinted, trying to find a clue in the tall grass that grew between the tree and the line of woods. There was nothing but a tangle of greens and browns, not even the slightest sliver of color to guide me. I planted my foot on the bottom rung of the ladder, hoping it would still hold me, and grabbed for the fourth plank with one hand. The motion was still so familiar to my body, hand over hand, reaching, grasping, my toes balancing on each rickety step.

  When I got to the top, I swiveled and leaned against the twisting limb that stretched over the water, surveying the scene beneath me. The brush looked the same from up here, just more snarled. Skimming my eyes across the grass, I noticed a trampled patch. That’s when I saw it—a bright pop of yellow against the greens and browns. It felt like a small triumph. In that moment, I was so excited to find out what Jude had left for me I almost forgot everything that had gone wrong since the reveal of that awful video.

  But that excitement was cut off by the sound of a deep voice that was all too familiar.

  “You gonna jump, Chicken Little?”

  My entire body spasmed with a jerky startled reflex. I hated myself for the reaction so much that I didn’t turn around. “Go away, Wes.
Leave me alone.”

  “I’m not the one who called this meeting, Bailey.” His voice was closer now.

  As soon as his frame crossed into my line of vision, I turned, facing the tree again. “I didn’t call any meeting. This has nothing to do with us.”

  I heard footsteps, the whisper of his gym shoes in the silky grass. Slowly, I climbed down.

  “You expect me to believe you decided to walk out here—directly to our spot—the moment you saw me, and it has nothing to do with us?”

  “This isn’t our spot,” I said, as my feet stretched from the bottom rung to the soft ground at the base of the tree. “There is no us, Wes. Not anymore. I have nothing to say to you.”

  I didn’t want to turn. Didn’t want to face him. But I didn’t have any other choice. I swiveled quickly, catching him off guard, and tried to step around him, but his hand shot out, gripping my right arm so tightly I could feel each fingertip pressing into my skin.

  “I don’t believe you.”

  Avoiding his eyes, I looked toward the pond, the sparkling water, the dense cover of the trees. As much as I wanted to avoid the memories, they came in short bursts, hitting me from all sides—Wes’s smooth skin reflecting the moonlight, his satiny lips touching mine, his hands tugging through tangles in my wet hair.

  “I don’t care what you believe,” I said, feeling his grip tighten around my arm. “I just need you to leave. Now.”

  “I don’t think so.” His voice rippled like the surface of the water.

  I pulled away from him in one swift movement. “You’re hurting me, Wes.”

  His hand slipped away in an instant, his feet shuffling as he stepped back, offering me a clear path to the thicket of grass. I took it.