Page 71 of Riot Rules
Pax bends over, placing his hands on his knees so that he can look Wren in the eye. “I love you like a brother, man, but if you don’t pull your shit together, I’m going to spank the living shit out of you.Where. The. Fuck. Did. You. Put. The. Box?”
There are a lot of threats being passed around right now and none of them are helping. I drag Pax out of the way so that he’s not crowding the guy. “Where did you have it last, man? I mean, did you have it in here?” I gesture to his room. “Or the kitchen?”
Wrentriesto think about this. It looks like it costs him a great deal. “Last thing I remember, we were getting a drink at Cosgrove’s. Patterson made me a long island with an umbrella in it.”
Oh, boy. This is baaaaaad, bad, bad. Pax’s eyes are wider than I’ve ever seen them. “That was inMarch! What the hell did you take?”
Wren stands abruptly. “Look.Fucker. My head feels like someone drilled a bore hole in the top of it and poured Drain-o inside. It’s real bad. So, do me a solid and fuck off.”
Fists will be thrown soon. It’s been an hour since the cops burnt past the house, and we have no idea how long we’ve got before they show up on our doorstep. At least we’ve all had a chance to get showered—conveniently that’s where Wren decided to throw up—and dressed now, so that we don’t look like degenerates and reek of alcohol. But if the police show up here with a warrant to search the premises…
For the third time, I take my phone out of my pocket and try Carina. For the third time, she doesn’t answer. The message she sent me last night after I left her—'Miss you. Call me when you wake up. I need to tell you something,’—seems even more ominous now that she’s not answering her phone.
“Maybe it’s time,” Pax says. “I can give him a call right now. He’ll be here in a couple of hours.”
“He’s not talking about Rufu—” Wren turns on him. “You’d better not be talking about Rufus.”
“Of course I’m talking about fucking Rufus!” Pax rubs his hands over his head, gritting his teeth. “Rufus is supposed to be here twenty-four seven. He’s supposed to be our legal guardian while we live in this house. He needs to be here when the cops come to talk to us, otherwise they’re going to call our parents. You want General Jacobi showing up here later today, ’cause I don’t. Your old man’s a fucking cunt, dude. Yours is no better, either,” he says, side-eyeing me. “Sorry, but it needs to be said. And no one wants my mother showing up here—”
“I actually like your mom,” Wren interjects.
“Yeah, me too. Meredith’s a sweetheart.”
“Now isreallynot the time to start that shit. I’m calling Rufus.”
Wren gets to his feet. He’s as somber as the grave when he says, “You arenotcalling Rufus.”
Seventeen minutes later, the knock comes at the door.
Wren’s still green around the gills and Pax looks like he just escaped from Chino as it is. I’m the logical choice. Dressed in a black shirt and black dress pants, I answer the door. The cop is a woman. Tall, sharp-eyed, and irritated. She takes one look at me and her demeanor sours. “Wren Jacobi?”
“No. Dashiell Lovett. Is there something I can help you with, Officer?”How many years’ jail time comes with possession of that many drugs? I don’t even know what was in the box, but I’m betting it was enough to send the three of us away for a very long time. We’re still minors. We won’t be sent to prison but juvie in this country is just as bad. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,FUCK.
The woman rests her hand on top of the gun sitting in the holster on her appointments vest. “Maybe you can. I need to talk to you and your roommates about the disappearance of one of your school friends.”
My heart is a lump of rock in my chest.
“What?”
Disappearance? Fuck.Carrie. Carrie hasn’t answered her phone all morning. I should have fucking walked her right up to her room last night, for fuck’s sake. What the fuck iswrongwith me?
The woman’s radio squawks on her hip—a burst of static followed by a loud, high-pitched pop—but she ignores it. “We received a call this morning from your principal, wanting to report one of her girls missing. One…” She checks her notepad. “Mara Bancroft. Wouldn’t happen to know where she is, would you?”
29
CARRIE
When I wake up,there’s a cop standing over my bed, shining a flashlight into my eyes. I go from half asleep to pure terror in point three five seconds flat.
They’ve come for me.
They found me.
They know what I did.
I should have listened to Alderman. I should have paid more attention. I should have RUN!
“Mendoza? Carina Mendoza?” The cop squints at me, sweeping the light over my face again.
