The Secret Keepers

Part One: Gone

Where are you???

By the time Haley texted Cassie for the fourth time in a row, at 7:54 PM, the game was starting in six minutes. "Should I call her dad?" She'd asked Rochelle, who rolled her glittered eyes.

"Don't be such a mom. If she's ditching the game, she doesn't want her dad to know where she is." 

Uncertainty gnawed at Haley. Cassie never ignored her texts. She never missed a game. Until recently, the thought that Cassie would be anywhere other than holding her poms on the sideline was unthinkable. Even now, Haley wondered if Cassie was sick.

"You're gonna fuck up your lipstick," Rochelle snapped at her, and only then did Haley realize she was chewing her bottom lip. She was staring at the little illuminated screen in her hand, willing a text to come in.

"She never misses games," Haley said. Rochelle shrugged.

"She's been weird lately. Call the cheers. Cassie isn't coming."

Once the buzzer sounded and the boys started dribbling, no one in the crowd of crimson and gold even noticed there was fifteen cheerleaders instead of sixteen.

***
Haley's fifth text to Cassie was sent at 10:36 PM. She felt that same little knot of uncertainty settle in her stomach when she saw that Cassie hadn't read any of her texts since 6:48.

Going to Lou's. You should meet us there.

Haley, Rochelle, and a smattering of other cheer girls and basketball players were walking out of the school. The group was loud and lively; winning always put an extra spring in their step. Rochelle had her arm in Haley's, the two huddled as they walked to keep warm. The early spring air was cold enough that Haley saw her breath escape in little puffs as she and Rochelle made their way to her car. Again, she looked down at the phone in her hand. Cassie hadn't read her text.

Rochelle stopped dead in her tracks, nearly pulling Haley's arm out of the joint of her shoulder. Confused, Haley slid her phone back in her jacket pocket and turned her head to look at Rochelle. Her brown eyes looked as wide as dinner plates. Following her gaze, Haley tried to see what she was seeing. It didn't take long.

Cassie's little yellow convertible was in the parking lot next to Haley's Jeep, where Cassie always parked. The passenger door was slightly ajar, and the automatic lights were illuminating the inside of the car. It looked empty. Haley stopped walking. Rochelle didn't. When she got to Cassie's car, she peered through the driver's side window, using a gloved hand to wipe away some frosty condensation. Cassie's purse was in the passenger floorboard. A crimson gym bag that Rochelle knew would contain a neatly-folded cheer uniform, poms, and hair ribbons was laid on the passenger seat, undisturbed.

"She's not there?" Haley asked. Rochelle turned back to Haley. Even in the dark parking lot, she could see Rochelle's eyes, panicked.

"Haley, I think maybe you should call her dad now."

Haley's heart was pounding in her ears as she made the call.

***

The police got there faster than Benjamin Hyatt did. Benjamin, Cassie's father, was a nice man. That was all Haley really knew about his personality. He was a surgeon, and worked long hours at the local hospital. Dr. Benjamin Hyatt rarely came to school activities, never bothered the girls when they were hanging out at the house, and provided Cassie with a nice car and a nice credit card, which she used frequently at the mall with Haley and Rochelle. Haley never saw Dr. Hyatt in the grips of any emotion, really, so it was particularly jarring to see him silently weeping as he spoke to a short, chubby policeman who had taped the area around Cassie's car. He was trying to answer the cop's questions, but had to stop frequently to clear his throat or blow his nose.

The three officers on scene told Rochelle and Haley to wait so they could answer questions after they were done talking to Dr. Hyatt. Haley had been told since she was in kindergarten to never answer questions from police without her parents or an attorney present. She immediately called her dad, who must have been driving 80 miles per hour because he seemed to appear at her side in an impossibly short amount of time.

"Haley, what's going on?" Her dad asked, slightly frantic. He knelt down to where Haley and Rochelle were huddled on a curb. The two trying to stay warm through the thin sweatpants they were both wearing over their cheerleading uniforms. He grabbed Haley's face, turning her head from side to side in his gloved hands as if he was inspecting her for injuries, or to make sure she was really there.

"It's Cassie. She didn't come to the game and then we saw her car and she's not here." Haley felt the tears welling up in her eyes. It stung from the mix of glitter, eyelash glue, mascara. She wiped at one eye and a rhinestone, previously dotting the outer corner  of her eye, came off onto the finger of her glove.

"Oh, great," one of the cops said to another, loud enough for them to hear. "Jennings is here to argue with us about the Fourth Amendment."

Haley's dad shot the police officer a vicious glare, but said nothing. He went over to Dr. Hyatt, who was still being interviewed by the same officer. Haley watched some more of Dr. Hyatt's strength crumble; more tears streamed down his weather-ruddied face as he croaked out "John, it's ok. I can talk to them."

Rochelle sniffed loudly next to Haley and laid her head on Haley's shoulder. The corkscrew curls piled high on Rochelle's head tickled Haley's chin, but the contact comforted her so she didn't move them. She sniffed again. Haley couldn't tell if it was from the cold or the crying.

"I thought someone had to be gone for forty-eight hours before they were called a missing person," Rochelle said, softly.

"That's a myth. Someone can be called missing as soon as they're gone." Haley replied.

Gone. That's what Cassie was. But she had to be somewhere, didn't she? That knot of uncertainty turned into a heavy, metallic fear that Haley could feel in her stomach and taste in her mouth. Cassie was somewhere. Somewhere, without her car or keys or purse. Somewhere, not answering her phone. But she had to be somewhere.