Лайза Макманн: Cryer's Cross

“Thank you,” Kendall says. Mrs. Fletcher walks them to the door. Kendall lowers her head to the table.

Numb. She knows he’s not hiking. He would never do that alone. Not without her.

Just then, Sergeant Dunne pops his head back in. “By the way, Kendall, what was the relationship between Nico and Tiffany Quinn? Did they know each other?”

Kendall lifts her head and looks at Sergeant Dunne. She narrows her eyes. “Of course. Have you seen the size of this town? Everybody knows everybody.”

He smiles disarmingly. “Did they ever do anything together? You know. . maybe there was something going on between them.” He pauses. “It’s an awfully strange coincidence, two kids from a town this small.”

Kendall slowly sits up. “No,” she says. “No, there was nothing going on between them. She was just a kid.”

“At the time of her disappearance, she was fifteen. Nico was seventeen.” He stops, as if that explains something. “Were you and Nico dating then?”

Kendall speaks through gritted teeth. “Yes. Sort of.”

“Did he ever take you to any secret places, in the mountains or the woods, to get away from everybody? Maybe to be alone, have sex?”

“No!” she says, flustered. “We aren’t that serious. We aren’t. . sexually active.”

“Oh, right. You said that you didn’t want a commitment in the relationship. Were you two free to see others, then?”

Kendall shakes her head, trying to grasp what he’s really saying, feeling like she’s in an episode of Law

Order: SVU. “He wasn’t seeing her. I know he wasn’t. Okay?”

Sergeant Dunne is quiet for a moment, looking at Kendall. And then he says in a low voice, “Well, maybe he is now.”

Mrs. Fletcher stands quickly as Kendall shoves her chair back and gets up. It makes an awful scraping sound on the wooden floor. Her hands are trembling. “What are you saying?”

“We’re just covering all our bases. Running through all the scenarios.” His cliché-laden monotone is deeply annoying.

“Why would he do anything to her? If they wanted to be together, nobody was stopping them!”

Sergeant Dunne tilts his head. “Maybe he got a little frustrated with your noncommitment and did something he was ashamed of. I don’t know. You tell me.”

“Well, you’re wrong!” Kendall’s voice breaks.

Mrs. Fletcher steps in, her voice clear and firm. “Sergeant, is there anything else?”

Sergeant Dunne doesn’t take his eyes off Kendall, though his gaze softens a bit. For a moment he doesn’t move. And then he says, “No, ma’am, that’s it for today.” He nods once and steps back outside.

“Let us know if you think of anything else that might help us find your friend,” he says to Kendall.

Kendall flees the kitchen and runs upstairs to her room.

Falls apart. Sobbing. So lost in this situation, she cannot handle it. Her brain can’t handle it.

All she can do is try. Try to stop picturing Nico and Tiffany in some secret mountain hideout having sex together.

Panting in the depths of a lightless night, We sigh in collective. You made your way through, found your new home nestled in the ground. Your sacrifice has been received. Another trapped soul set free.

Our remaining souls beg, bloodthirsty now. Soul-thirsty. Together, imprisoned inside wood and metal, We wait again and scratch anew.

Touch me.

By early morning the national news networks pick it up. This small-town teen runaway story is no longer worthy of only a tiny blip on the radar of Bozeman TV. Within twenty-four hours it has become the unfortunate American horror sensation of the week. Nico’s face is splashed all over TV, and Tiffany

Quinn’s entire history is resurrected and replayed along with Nico’s history. It’s not long before reporters try to connect the two in sinister ways, just like Sergeant Dunne did yesterday with Kendall. Did Nico

“make Tiffany disappear” and now has disappeared himself? Where could they be? What is the dark side of Nico Cruz?

Oh, yes, it’s all speculation. The reporters admit it.

But you can tell they believe it.

Mr. Fletcher turns the TV off. Kendall stares at the blank screen, her hair disheveled, eyes red.

“Kendall,” he says. He puts his hand on her arm.

She doesn’t move.

“Honey.”

Kendall just shakes her head. Whispers, her throat sore from crying, “I can’t believe this is happening.”

Her father stands up, pulls her to her feet. Hugs her close and whispers, “Come on, pumpkin.”

Kendall nods, her cheek against his shoulder. When she pulls away, she sees the shine in his eyes.

He looks away. “Let’s go find him.”

There are helicopters. News teams are arriving, setting up camp in front of the Feed and Seed shop and inside the farmers’ market.

More police mill around than Kendall’s ever seen before in one place. Many people drive or walk to the town center, but several come on four-wheelers for the sake of faster off-road searching. Marlena and

Jacián are among them. Kendall narrows her eyes.

Sheriff Greenwood stands on the steps of the restaurant with a bullhorn, and he holds it up, testing it out to get everybody’s attention.

Kendall looks around. It’s barely dawn on a Sunday morning, and everybody is here, just like last time.

Except for Nico.

Students eye Kendall warily, sympathetically, looking unsure if they should approach her. Most don’t.

Kendall and her parents walk over to Nico’s parents and stand quietly, the moms exchanging hugs.

Nothing much to say. Lack of sleep is evident in all their faces, and that says it all. Kendall sees Tiffany

Quinn’s mother standing in the crowd. She looks old, like she’s aged ten years since May. Kendall glances at Nico’s parents and wonders what will happen to them.

Sheriff Greenwood speaks, quiets everyone down.

Everything is so horribly familiar, and for Kendall, a thousand times worse.

“Thanks for coming out,” Sheriff Greenwood’s voice booms. He clears his throat as the crowd grows silent, and he lifts the bullhorn to his lips again. “It seems impossible that we are doing this again. Yet here we are.”

He pauses a moment, glancing at a white paper that shakes in his hand in the breeze. “To give you an update, we officially declared Nico Cruz a missing person at around seven p.m. yesterday. We’ve spoken to a number of people since then, and trained officials have been searching overnight. We’ve found no sign of him at this point.

“I’ve decided, after conferring with the other law enforcement who’ve come down to help us, that we’ll run our search much like last time. This time, however, there will be no groups smaller than three, and no child under eighteen will be permitted to travel anywhere alone from now on, until further notice. Not on foot or by car or horseback. That’s not just for the search — that’s a new Cryer’s Cross curfew.”

There is a wave of murmuring in the crowd, not just surprise but fear.

“Let me define that further: No child or teenager seventeen and younger shall travel alone in the village limits of Cryer’s Cross at any time until further notice. Children thirteen and under must be accompanied by someone over eighteen. Teens fourteen and up will be allowed to move about using a buddy system.

You will be assigned school buddies based on where you live, for the sake of convenience.” He pauses.

“If you do not comply, you will be arrested.”

Arrested? Kendall stares at the Sheriff. School buddies? The only other teenager who lived in her direction from school was Nico.

There is more murmuring. “Quiet, please,” urges the sheriff. “This is very important. We don’t want to lose another one of you. Please feel confident that even though I’ve known most of you teenagers since you were babies, I will not hesitate to arrest you if I see you wandering or driving alone. We don’t yet know what we are dealing with here, and we must proceed with appropriate caution rather than foolishness.”