It's been five years since the sudden disappearance of Cora Cadigan's mother. Five years since the case was closed before it even began.
In the final summer before the end of high school, Cora knows it's her last opportunity to find the answers she...
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"Try not to breathe."
I'm lying on my back, arms tangled with Lucas's as he moves quietly to fit his oversized body under the bed next to mine. Our legs are tucked up awkwardly, too long to relax them. I know any minute now a cramp will set in, but it won't matter. The fact that I may die tonight is much more pressing.
I fight against the pain blooming from my chest. Mum's keys are pressing into my back, sitting in the pocket of my shorts. For now, I push away the pictures on the wall; the cross covering my mother's face. I focus on Lucas breathing heavily next to me, trying to calm himself down.
"Easier said than done," he whispers back to me, lifting his arm so that his elbow pokes at my ribcage.
We'd turned off the light in the room, but it doesn't matter. My heart sinks at the memory of leaving the hall light on downstairs, along with the broken vase sitting in a pile on the floor. Any moment now, he'll know someone is in his house.
I slowly reach down for my phone, but it's just out of reach. I strain, gritting my teeth, but the bed is so low that I can hardly breathe without my chest touching the wooden slats.
"Can you reach your phone?" I ask.
"It died when I was talking to you earlier. That's why the call cut out."
Fuck. That left it up to me. I scrape my hand along my stomach, splintering the skin against the wood above me. I grunt, reaching into the front pocket of my phone. I'm sweating from the exhaustion of it. When I feel the smooth cover, I pull it out painfully, knowing that we won't have much longer before Tom begins his ascent to the second floor.
"Quick," Lucas whispers, holding his breath.
I try to bring the phone to my face, but the bed is pressing down against my nose. I strain my eyes, unlocking it against my chest.
"I can't do it," I confide. "It's—it's too hard to see."
"I can see it," he says. "Just move your thumb as I say and you'll be able to call for help."
