The Forgotten Girl

I answer anyway. “Twenty-one.”

“That’s a little old for your mother to still be worrying about you so much. Don’t you think?” he questions, flipping his headlights on.

“I completely agree with you,” I say, rotating in my seat to face him. I think about telling him I’m moving out, to show some maturity, but that also would probably make him a little suspicious. “Detective, what’s this really about?”

“What do you mean?” he asks, his expression guarded, making it impossible to read him.

“I mean, you showing up at the bar when I’m there and then offering to give me a ride home,” I say. “I’m guessing that it’s not a coincidence.”

“It’s not,” he replies, steering the car down the side road that leads to my house. “I was there because your mother said you went to work—that’s why the alarm went off.” He pauses. “But by the amount of time you were in the bar, I don’t think that was why you were there.”

“Have you been following me?” I ask. Calm down.

He shrugs, reaching to adjust the heat. “I happened to show up just as you were going inside,” he says. “So I waited to see how long you were in there.”

“I was picking up my paycheck,” I lie without missing a beat.

“Can I see it?”

I pretend to check my pockets then frown. “Shit. I must have left it back at the bar.”

“Well that sucks,” he says, not buying it. “You want me to turn around so you can go pick it up. Besides, I’ve actually been meaning to talk to River about your alibi not just about Sydney but about Bella Anderfells. I’m not sure if you’ve heard, but she’s been reported missing, strangely the same day as Sydney was killed.”

“I have heard,” I tell him, facing forward in the seat again, watching the raindrops river down the windshield. I wonder if they found her bloody apartment yet. “It was on the news.”

“Yeah, weren’t you guys close?”

“Sort of.”

He continues toward my house, making a left on Cherry Lane Road. “I’m guessing your alibi’s still the same for Bella too. That you were with River on the night and morning of March 15.”

I nod, thinking about how if I did kill her, it was days later so technically I’m not lying. “I already told you I was.”

“Yeah, but I was just double checking.” He gives me a sidelong glance. “Sometimes people change their minds about stuff like that.”

“Well, I don’t have to change my mind because it’s the truth.”

“Alright.”

He doesn’t believe me and quite honestly I’m not even sure I believe me.

“Oh, I forgot to mention that I went through your file.” He’s making it sound like a casual mention, but it’s clearly been planned. He wants me to hear whatever it is he found.

I look at him, puzzled. “File?”

He glances at me again, getting a good look at my face, and I hope it portrays that I’m calm, casual, and completely cool, instead of the erratic instability I’m feeling inside. “Yeah, the one filled out for the accident six years ago.”

“Oh yeah?” I ask smoothly. “Find anything interesting?”

“Should I have found anything interesting?”

I make steady eye contact with him. “You tell me, since you’ve gone through it. I on the other hand have no idea what it says.”

His eyes land on me and the intensity flowing from them almost causes me to melt back in the seat. “Did you know that you had a high dose of flinitrazepam in your system the night you were hit?”

I shake my head, baffled. “I don’t even know what that is.”

“The street name for it is Rufi.” He watches me closely.

“You mean the date rape drug… What? How?”

“Yeah, I’m not sure why. I don’t think it was ever looked into.” He presses on the brake and I realize we’re at my house and turning into my driveway. “You know, it’s strange.” He puts the car in park, parking it right in front of the garage. “A girl in the middle of the street, gets hit by a car, the driver takes off, and you have drugs in your system. Yet her mother doesn’t want the investigation looked into further. Especially one that worries so much.”

I want to ask him what else he read, but in doing so, I feel like I’m putting myself at risk. For whatever reason, he seems to think I have some kind of connection to Sydney’s murder and asking him questions will probably make him question me more.

“Thanks for the ride,” I say, pushing open the door and hopping out into the rain before he can say anything else.

“Any time,” he says with a trace of a pleased grin on his face.

I shut the door and run inside the house with every intention of confronting my mother about the drugs, the fire, the hospital, but to my shock she’s gone. I’d left my phone in my room and find about a dozen missed calls from her and a text.

Mom: Went looking for you. If you get home before I do, don’t leave. Do you understand me? You weren’t supposed to leave the house and the cops came today. I’m serious Maddie…

I stop reading it because it doesn’t matter.

My life is one big lie.

You can trust me. I tell the truth, no matter how painful it is.

I sink down on my bed and watch the rain shift from a downpour to a drizzle, listening for the front door to open, for my mom to walk in. The longer I wait, the more frustrated I get. I was drugged that night and she didn’t want it investigated. Drugged? Why wouldn’t she have it looked into? Why is she always lying to me about everything? To protect me? Because what I’m going through now is anything but protection.

“I wonder what she’d do if you were here,” I say to Lily. “If you showed up and spoke to her… she has to know you exist?”

Maybe we should find out.

I remain sitting on my bed and consider that for about an hour. The more time passes by the more I just want to get away. I know I’m moving, but that can’t happen overnight. I need to just take a day off. Away from my mother. Detective Bennerly. I don’t want to be somewhere where River can find me and confront me after he gets the cuffs off. I just want to be alone, where I don’t have to worry about anything, just for a little while. I want to be able to breathe again. I miss breathing.