Page 24 of Guess Again
“I have access to the case file and transcripts of all the interviews that were conducted. I’ve just started digging into them. Don’t worry if your memory isn’t perfect. Let’s start with you and Callie.”
Lindsay nodded. “Sure. Callie and I met in kindergarten and became inseparable. We had other friends throughout grade school and high school, but we were always best friends. And when we got to high school, we both tried out for and made the volleyball team. Callie and I were the only freshmen on the varsity squad, so we had to stick together. Volleyball made us closer.”
“And from what I’ve read in the case file, the girls’ volleyball team was a big deal in Cherryview.”
Lindsay smiled. “Yeah, we were. As far as Cherryview, Wisconsin was concerned anyway. Callie and I started as freshmen and helped lead the team to the state championship game that year. We lost, but just barely.” Lindsay playfully smacked her fist into her palm. “We were so, so close. Callie and I found this quote we used to throw around after that game—‘the tragedy of life is not that man loses, but that he almost wins.’” Lindsay smiled. “We were so close that year, and it hurt so bad. We promised to never get that close again and lose. And we didn’t. As sophomores, Callie and I took over the team and won state that year. And again our junior year. In little Cherryview, Wisconsin, Callie and I were superstars.”
Lindsay laughed. Another attempt to hold back tears.
“Callie and I made girls’ volleyball popular. The stands were packed with fans for every home game—students and parents, but also just people from town who wanted to watch us play. For those three years, we drew bigger crowds than the football team. And if you know anything about small towns in Wisconsin, you know Friday night football dominates. But we gave football a run for its money those years.”
Lindsay forced a smile.
“Then, after junior year, Callie . . . she went through a lot of stuff that summer. Stuff I probably should’ve been a better friend about.”
“Like what?”
“Her parents split, and her mom remarried right away. There were rumors about an affair, and that was hard for her to deal with. And Callie hated her stepdad. He was really creepy. She was stuck living with her mom because Mr. Jones was MIA with all the political engagements and keeping up his image. Callie was always worried about getting in any sort of trouble for fear that it would reflect badly on her father. As if any little thing Callie did that wasn’t perfect could ruin his political career. So she was always walking on eggshells. It felt like only during an actual volleyball match could she forget about all the pressures of her life and just be herself.”
Lindsay shrugged.
“Anyway, with all that was going on, Callie became really distant and our friendship sort of became strained.”
“Strained how?” Ethan asked.
Lindsay shrugged. “There was a time when we would tell each other everything. But that summer she sort of folded in on herself and . . . I don’t know, stopped sharing things with me. I mean, look, in retrospect we were high school best friends. We had our ups and downs, and lots of girl drama. It’s just taken me a lot of years to get over the idea that she disappeared during one of our downswings. I knew something was bothering her that summer, and I didn’t take the time to figure out what it was. And then . . .”
“She disappeared,” Ethan said.
Summer 2015
Cherryview, Wisconsin
THE START OF THE SCHOOL YEAR WAS STILL ANOTHER MONTH AWAY, BUTsummer practices were in full swing, and today’s ran late. Callie was in charge that day, and she always made a point of extending practice later than the scheduled stop time. It was Callie’s way of showing her new coach that she and the team were a serious bunch ready to win another state championship. And when she encouraged her teammates to push on despite wanting to quit, it displayed her leadership. Lindsay did the same when she was running practice, but she was more obvious about it, not as genuine, and the team knew Lindsay was just trying to impress Coach Cordis. Callie was shrewder.
This afternoon, she started the last quarter of practice, which was designated for conditioning, ten minutes later than normal. And, based on a consensus she took from her teammates, decided to extend the two-mile-end-of-practice run to three miles. With the late start and additional mile, even the fastest, strongest, and best-conditioned team members would finish practice late.
Callie ran from the street and onto the track that encircled the high school’s football field, crossing the finish line in a dead sprint fifty yards in front of her closest contender. Then, she waited a few minutes to allow the rest of the faster runners to pour across the finish line. When the track was sufficiently crowded so that her absence would not be missed, she wandered off and ran back up the street. She was shifty about it, not wanting her other teammates to notice her doubling back for fear that they would join her.
It took just a minute to run into her first teammate.
“Let’s go, Molly! You’ve got this!” Callie cheered as she ran past. A few yards farther and she came across two more teammates.
“Let’s do this! Almost there!”
And so it continued until she came to the last girl, who was struggling with the added mile. When Callie reached her, she turned and ran alongside her.
“How you doing?”
“Not good,” the girl said. “I might puke.”
“Who cares?” Callie said. “So you puke. It won’t kill you. And if you puke and work through it, Coach will notice.”
“I think I’m last.”
“You are. But you’re still going to finish. And you’re going to finish strong. Ready?”
“For what?”
