Todd Strasser - Kill You Last

“Did you ever see the girls at his studio?”

“Is it true that he promised them modeling jobs?”

Wiping the tears away, I tried to come up with some way to defend Dad, but it was impossible to think clearly. Was I required to answer? Would it be better if I didn’t? What if I said the wrong thing?

Then I became aware of a commotion. Someone was pushing his way through the crowd. Reporters were complaining, warning him to back off, but he was taller and bigger than the others and plowed through with an odd combination of apologies and determination. “Excuse me. Sorry, but I’m coming through.” He positioned himself in front of me, and I braced for a new barrage of questions.

“You don’t have to put up with this,” he said.

I looked up into pale green eyes beneath sandy blond hair, wondering if I’d misheard what he’d said. He seemed younger than the others and was broad through the shoulders and chest, like a football player. He might have been handsome were it not for a bumpy and slightly bent nose.

“Do you want to go into your house?” he asked.

Still rubbing tears away, I nodded and felt an arm go around my shoulders as he led me through the crowd, holding his other arm straight out to keep anyone from getting too close.

“Hey! What are you doing?” someone in the crowd complained.

“Let her talk!”

The media people objected loudly, but he ignored them and guided me to the front door, where he stood like a shield while I unlocked it. I twisted around one last time to look at him and say “Thanks” before I let myself inside.

“Feel better,” he said.

It was a huge relief to lock the door behind me. Thank God the kitchen was in the back of the house, so I could sit without feeling all those eyes staring in. Mom wasn’t home; she was probably out shopping. I had to warn her, but when I called her cell, I got her voice mail. Still shaking, I poured myself a glass of cold water and sipped slowly. A tight, throbbing pain had started to grow along the sides of my head. I have this bad habit of clenching my teeth when I’m tense, and it causes the muscles above my ears to cramp. If I catch it early and make a conscious effort to relax, I can usually make the pain subside. But sometimes I forget.

The countertop TV came into focus. I turned it on, half expecting to see a video of me in my car, but of course it was too soon for that. Instead, the channels were filled with the typical afternoon talk and cooking shows.

Then, even though I was still upset with him, I called Dad.

“Hi, sweetheart,” he answered, sounding weary.

I told him about the media outside our house.

“Yeah, there’s a bunch of them hanging around here, too,” he said. “Feels like we’re defending the Alamo.”

The line grew quiet. I wasn’t sure what to say next.

“Well, at least you’re safe,” he said.

It felt like he was ready to get off the phone. But I wasn’t finished yet. “Have you talked to the others?”

“What others? Other girls?”

“No, Janet, Gabriel, and Mercedes. Maybe they have some ideas.”

“I spoke to them. We’re all in the dark. Nobody even remembers those girls. We’ve probably done close to a thousand head shots in the past three years. We looked at the photos the detectives had, and none of us recognized them. I mean, it doesn’t make any sense. If the girls had all come from the same town, you might think they got together and ran off to Hollywood or something. But they live so far away from each other. It’s crazy.”

It felt and sounded like he was being completely honest, and I was relieved. In a way, it was reassuring. No matter what anyone else said, I could tell that he wasn’t hiding anything.

“Oh, so let me tell you about our escape plan,” Dad said.

“We’re going to disguise Gabe and let him take the Ferrari. Hopefully, the media will think it’s me and follow him.”

“Meanwhile, you’ll sneak out?” I guessed.

“Right. Janet will give me a ride home.”

“You’re really going to let Gabriel have the Ferrari?”

“Yeah. He’s thrilled. You know how he’s always wanted to drive it.”

I did. And I also knew how protective Dad was of his car.

Just the idea that he was willing to let someone else use it was a measure of how crazy things had become.

“We’re going to wait until it gets dark,” Dad said. “Otherwise, someone may notice that it’s Gabe in a disguise. So I’ll see you at home later, okay, sweetheart?”

“Sure.”

He got off the phone, and I speed-dialed Mom again. This time I got her and warned her about the crowd in front of our house. “Maybe you could park in front of the Sisks’ house and then cut through the backyards and come in the back door.”

Twenty minutes later, Mom came in through the kitchen door and put her shopping bags on the table. “This is unbelievable,” she muttered.

“At least you got in without being surrounded,” I said.

Mom frowned. She was such a quiet, orderly person; she must’ve hated the media circus trampling the lawn outside.

“You heard about the third missing girl also being one of Dad’s clients?” I asked.

She nodded.

“It’s freaky, Mom. What do you think’s going on?”

Her eyebrows rose with surprise. “Don’t jump to conclusions, Shelby. They’re only missing.”

“I know, but it’s still weird. I talked to Dad before. It really sounds like he doesn’t have a clue, either.”

Mom glanced away and didn’t respond. I wished I could get her to open up and tell me what was on her mind.

“You believe that, don’t you?” I asked. “That he doesn’t have a clue?”

Mom’s forehead wrinkled, and she placed a reassuring hand over mine. “Of course I do. Your father wouldn’t hurt a fly. Those girls will probably turn up somewhere in a day or two.”

I wanted to believe her, but I knew she was better than most when it came to sticking her head in the sand and avoiding upsetting topics. Sensing that I wouldn’t get any further, I changed the subject. “I went to that interview at Sarah Lawrence this morning. It’s a nice school.”

Mom brightened. “I’m so glad.”

“But I still want to visit some bigger campuses. Someplace with a real college town around it.”

She pressed her lips together. The smile vanished. “There’s no place like that nearby.”

“Mom, even if I went to Sarah Lawrence, I’d want to live in a dorm. I wouldn’t live at home.”

She nodded and looked a little crestfallen. Sometimes I felt like she wanted me to stay home and be her little girl forever. Part of me understood why. Beth once told me that before Mom lost my little brother, she’d been a gregarious, outdoorsy type who loved to go camping and take long hikes. But after he died, she’d retreated to the indoors, becoming overprotective and cautious, at times so introverted that it almost felt like she was living in her own world. Like the way she made a place setting for Dad every night despite the fact that he hardly ever ate dinner with us. How could she pretend that we were a happy family when Dad had moved into the guest bedroom four years ago? He said it was because of his snoring, but I wasn’t stupid. There was no affection between them, and they almost never went out together. Was that the reason Mom didn’t want me to go far away to college? Because without me, she had nothing?

I went upstairs and got online to tell Roman about being ambushed by the media.

“It’s like being famous, but for all the wrong reasons,” she said.

“Tell me about it,” I grumbled, and then I told her about Dad’s plan to sneak out of the studio after dark. “Gabriel’s going to take the Ferrari to his place.”