Page 28 of Caged
Roll call begins, and I slouch into the winged armchair. I’m never coming to one of these chapter meetings again. I’ve done my time, and besides, what will they do? Kick me out? I’d like to see them try.
I’m picking at my cuticles when a loud, demanding knock at the front door interrupts opening announcements. Dana looks around, uncertain of what to do. Another forceful knock rattles the room, and I spring to my feet, because Jesus Christ, someone has to open the goddamn door. I’m also five seconds away from falling asleep in my chair and need the distraction.
I swing open the door, and my eyes go wide.
“Good evening,” one of the officers begins. “We were asked to do a wellness check on a Kasey Morelli. Does she live here?”
I fumble over my next words. “She lives here, but I don’t know if she’s here right now.”
“May we come inside?”
My mind races. What’s the protocol here? They’re police, but do I just let them in? Are they going to try to search the place, and if so, don’t they need a warrant?
I freeze, staring at them as I think through what to say. Finally, I settle on, “Sure, come in. We’re in the middle of our weekly chapter meeting.”
The two officers step inside, scanning the multitude of pledge class pictures on the foyer walls, and the living room goes silent.
Finding my voice, I address the fifty gawking faces staring back at me.
“The officers are here to do a wellness check for Kasey. Has anyone seen her?”
Hushed whispers hot potato around the room, and I sense the two officers now standing on either side of me.
“Anyone?” I ask again.
“We got a call from her parents,” one of the officers says, and I’m taken aback by how his voice fills the space. “Apparently, yesterday was her birthday, and they couldn’t get in touch with her, which they said was unusual for their relationship. Then, when they couldn’t reach her again today, they called us.”
“None of us have seen her since Friday,” a voice peeps from the back of the room.
“Since Friday?” the cop clarifies. “What time on Friday did you see her?”
“She was at dinner here on Friday,” another voice says. “She said she was going out, but she hasn’t been back since then.”
“Did she say where she was headed?” the second cop asks.
A few girls answer with‘no’and I am floored.
“She was at Sigma on Friday,” I answer, hoping the girls in the back hear the brash, clipped tone of my response. “I ran into her there. I saw her briefly, and we only talked for a few seconds before she was pulled away by one of the guys in the fraternity.”
I want to say more, like she appeared to be out of her mind and possibly on drugs, but I don’t want to out her in front of the entire sorority or the police.
“Do you remember the name of this guy?”
“Yeah, Kieren Hunt.” I swear I hear hushed whispers when I say his name.
“Does anyone have her number?” the shorter of the two officers asks. “Has anyone tried calling her?”
“We’ve texted her, but she hasn’t responded,” says a voice in the back. I crane my neck to figure out who this person is, but I can’t see around the many clusters of heads all doing the same.
“Can you call her?” the officer asks.
Seconds pass before the girl confirms, “I’m calling her now.”
Everyone waits with anticipation. “It went straight to voicemail.”
Worried chatter balloons from the room, and I have to silence the crowd once again. I feel like Judge Judy up here.
“What else can we do to help?” I ask the officers.
