Todd Strasser - Kill You Last

I accepted the slice even though I knew I didn’t have the appetite to take more than a few bites.

“I was thinking that maybe we’d have a dinner party the weekend before Thanksgiving,” Mom said. “Invite the neighbors, you know?”

It felt like time for a major reality check. Dad was being questioned by the police, and Mom was talking about a party? Did she really think the neighbors would want to come, given the awful news surrounding our family? Only if by then this whole mystery about the girls was cleared up and Dad’s innocence was proven.

Mom was counting on that.

So was I.

We talked about whom we could invite. Because my parents hardly went out, they didn’t have a lot of friends in Soundview. There were some neighbors like the Sisks, and some women Mom met for book club every Thursday. For the most part, Dad’s friends were the same ones he’d had back when he worked in the city.

After dinner I put the unfinished salad and pizza in the refrigerator, in case Dad was hungry when he got home. Back upstairs it was hard not to go online, but I really didn’t want to communicate with anyone. As I did my homework, I kept expecting a text from Roman, and I was surprised when none arrived. Had she not heard the news? Had she heard it and was trying to be sensitive? Or had she gone out? After all, it was Friday.

Later I heard the back door open downstairs and knew Dad was home. I found him in the kitchen pouring tequila into a shot glass.

“Hey, sweetheart.” He looked and sounded worn out.

“Hi, Dad.” I knew I sounded glum.

He took a sip. “Guess I don’t have to ask what’s wrong.”

“What did the police want to know?”

“What you’d expect,” he said. “Did I have anything to do with the missing girls? Did I know anything about why they were missing? Did I have any idea where they were? That kind of stuff. Don’t worry, I passed. Questions, lie-detector test, whole nine yards.”

“Lie detector?” I repeated, surprised.

He took a long sip and, despite his obvious fatigue, winked mischievously. He’d passed! He was innocent! For a split second I felt an urge to throw my arms around his neck, but the memory of what I’d seen earlier on TV stopped me. “Dad, while you were down at the police station? There was something on TV. A girl who you signed up for modeling. She said you wanted to meet her alone.”

Dad’s eyebrows rose curiously. “No kidding? Did they say why?”

“No, but it was kind of implied.”

He scowled for an instant as if he didn’t understand, then smirked as if he did. “Ah, the old casting-couch routine. And where was this alleged assignation supposed to take place?”

“She didn’t say,” I said.

Dad nodded as if he wasn’t surprised, then took another sip. “So she said I wanted to meet her alone, but the meeting never took place.” He shook his head. “Talk about kicking a guy when he’s down.”

I almost said, “So it’s not true?” But it was obvious from the way Dad was acting that it wasn’t.

He gazed up at the ceiling with a reflective expression. “Know what? I can’t say I blame them.”

I stared at him in shock. “ What? Why?”

“Because it’s business, sweetheart. TV stations make money by selling ads. And to sell ads, they need viewers; and to get viewers, they have to have a good story. And even when you’ve got a good story, you better have some new twist on it every evening at six, or the viewers are going to switch channels until they find a station that does.”

He was right, of course. That’s exactly what I’d done at dinner-switched channels until I found the one with the story about this girl who claimed Dad wanted to meet her alone.

“It’s sick,” I said.

“Yeah, well, it’s also life,” he said in a resigned tone. “Better get used to it.”

It was getting late, and I was exhausted from the accumulated stresses of the past days, so I kissed Dad on the cheek and went upstairs. Basically, the news was good. Dad was innocent as far as those missing girls were concerned. Feeling better about his situation, I decided to go online. It turned out that Roman had just gotten on, and I told her how Dad had passed the lie-detector test.

“But you know they’re not reliable,” she said. “You see them on TV and in the movies because it’s dramatic, but you can’t convict someone just because they failed a lie-detector test.”

“But Dad didn’t fail, he passed.”

“Same difference. Just because you pass doesn’t mean you’re innocent. They probably gave it to him to see how he’d react. Like maybe he’d get scared and confess on the spot. That’s happened, you know. And I mean, you can go online and learn about ways to beat a lie detector.”

“I’m sure Dad didn’t do that,” I said. “He didn’t even know they were going to give him the test until he got to the police station.”

“Hmmm.” Roman made that sound, and I knew she was going to change the subject. “So…I…saw that girl Destiny on TV before. I mean, I understand totally if you don’t want to talk about it.”

I felt my face grow warm. “She admitted that nothing happened. You don’t even know if she’s telling the truth.”

“You think she’d just make it up?” Roman asked.

It was strange how, when Dad had scoffed at the idea, I’d been so eager to believe that Destiny was just looking for publicity. But now that Roman asked the question, the publicity angle felt less likely.

“I don’t know,” I admitted.

“Maybe you’re right,” Roman said. “If nothing happened, maybe it doesn’t matter.”

But I felt my spirits go into a free fall. “It’s still bad news heaped on bad news.”

On the screen, Roman sighed sympathetically. “I think we should go out and have fun tomorrow.”

“I don’t know if I can, Romy.”

“Right, Shels. Which is exactly why you should. You can’t spend the whole weekend hiding in your house.”

“So what would you suggest?”

Roman held up a credit card and gave me a big smile. “Go shopping, what else?”

“Not at the Soundview Mall. I don’t want to spend the whole time worrying about running into people I don’t want to see.”

“Let’s go up to Stamford,” Roman suggested. “It’s just as nice as Soundview, and hardly anyone from around here goes there.”

She was right. The worst thing I could do was hang around the house waiting and worrying about whatever was going to happen next.

“You have to buy that top,” Roman said at Vintage Vogue the next morning.

It was the cutest ruffled chiffon tank, and I was completely in want with it, but then I checked the price tag and shook my head.

“But it loves you, and you’ll look great in it,” Roman insisted.

I put it back on the rack. “Don’t want to spend the money.”

“Since when?”

I cocked my head and gave her a look as if to say, “Think about it.”

“Oh.” Roman pressed her fingers to her lips. “You mean because of what’s happening?”

“It’s not like Dad’s doing any business,” I said as we left the store. Then, even though there was no one around, I lowered my voice. “He only did what he did to make the money we needed to live the way we do. So now I feel like it’s partly my fault.”

“Why didn’t he just tell you not to spend as much?”

“Apparently, that’s not how the male ego works. The great hunter is supposed to kill enough game to feed his family.”

Roman stopped. “Does the great hunter ever say what he thinks happened to those missing girls?”

“He has no idea.”

“What do you think?” she asked.

“I think if something bad happened to them, it almost has to have something to do with Dad’s business. It can’t be just a coincidence. So if Dad doesn’t know anything about them, then someone who works with him must. And that’s a seriously scary and upsetting idea.”