Бентли Литтл - The Disappearance

“At least people know who to look for,” Stacy said hopefully.

Gary said nothing. He was watching an aerial view of the Home, thinking that much more shocking revelations would be revealed to the world over the next few days as the law and the press learned more about the Homesteaders.

Hopefully, they would be long gone and back in California by then.

Stacy already had her cell phone out. “I have to call my parents,” she said. “They’re bound to see this on one of the stations, and I have to let them know I’m here before they find out about it on the news.”

Reyn and Brian took their cells out as well, calling their parents, and Gary knew that he should do the same. Even if the sheriff was able to keep his promise and shield them from the media, their names were bound to get out eventually. Especially Joan’s. His mom and dad were already worried about Joan, and if they heard that she’d been kidnapped by a cult in Texas—or, worse, that she’d once been part of that cult—they’d hop a plane to California and physically drag him back to Ohio. He needed to get ahead of this and put his own spin on it before they learned about it from some third party.

But he made no effort to move his arm from around Joan’s shoulder. She had no parents to call, and right now it was more important for him to be there for her than to try to head off an uncomfortable confrontation with his mom and dad.

Well, his mom.

His dad would be okay. He could reason with his dad.

His mom would freak.

Stacy, Reyn and Brian had retreated to opposite corners of the room and were talking in hushed, hurried tones. He’d call his own parents later, when Joan was going to the bathroom or taking a shower or something. He pulled her closer to him, squeezing her shoulder reassuringly. She leaned her head against his arm. “I love you,” she said softly. It was the first time she’d said it since they had been reunited.

“I love you, too,” he said.

Gary fell asleep that night on a narrow couch, staring upward at an unfamiliar ceiling. He dreamed that he was one of the Beatles and they had just finished playing a concert in a massive stadium. Afterward, they ran backstage and Father was in their dressing room. He was having sex with the groupies who had been meant for the band.

And one of them was Gary’s mom.

The trip back to California was uneventful. Joan was still not volunteering information about her ordeal, and Gary did not want to pressure her. She would talk when she was ready.

The backseat of the car was crowded and uncomfortable, with three people shoved into such a small space, but no one complained. They stopped a lot to stretch their feet and switch driving duties. It seemed much harder to stay awake on the trip home than it had on the way there, and the desert scenery seemed infinitely more boring. The only times they were all awake at once were the beginning of the trip, the end of the journey, and whenever they stopped for a meal or a bathroom break.

It was night when they reached Southern California.

“Should we check in with the police?” Stacy wondered as they pulled into Westwood Village. “Tell them what happened?”

“Fuck ’em,” Brian declared.

“I’m sure Sheriff Stewart has called Detective Williams and told him everything by now,” Reyn said.

“Even if he hasn’t, so what? Kara’s free. Her parents are probably coming out to pick her up. And if they want to keep looking for Joan—or, more accurately, start looking for Joan—let ’em.”

That reminded Gary that neither he nor Joan was officially enrolled in school anymore, and as that was something else of which she was not aware, he explained to her what had happened to all of their computerized records. Before showing up to class again, they were both going to have to go to Admissions and try to get everything straightened out.

“My Facebook page is gone, too?” she said incredulously.

“Everything.”

“I didn’t know they were so tech savvy,” she admitted.

Reyn was driving, and he found a parking spot near his dorm. “After we unpack,” he told them, “I need to take the car back. I don’t want to pay for an extra day.”

“I think we have to,” Stacy said. “We were supposed to turn it in in the morning. I think we’re already being charged an extra day. We might as well get some use out of it.”

“I’m taking it back anyway. We don’t have a parking sticker for it, and if we leave it here they’ll tow it.”

“I’ll follow you in my car and pick you up,” Brian offered, getting out.

“Deal.”

“Thanks,” Gary said gratefully. “I—”

“Don’t worry about it,” Reyn told him.

They took their personal belongings out of the trunk. Tossed casually near the wheel well were Brian’s knives. Gary had been surprised when Sheriff Stewart had not confiscated them, and even more surprised when the man had said, “Get these out of here. I don’t want to see them again.” It had been a thank-you for helping the sheriff’s department to get the Homesteaders, and it was also a way of keeping things simple, not muddying the waters. No one else had seen the knives, and if any of the cult members claimed to have, Stewart would just say they were crazy. The best thing for everyone would be for the knives to just disappear, but with Father still on the loose, Gary knew Brian would not get rid of them.

Neither Gary nor Joan had any belongings to take out of the trunk, but they waited patiently while the others unpacked. They had not talked about it, but Gary could not imagine that she would want to sleep in the same room she had shared with Kara. At least not the first night. Not after everything that had happened.

He was right.

He caught Joan looking in the direction of her dorm building, and when she saw him watching her, she shivered. “I’m not staying in that room,” she said. “I can’t.”

Gary put an arm around her. “You don’t have to. We’ll just go in and get your clothes, toothbrush, whatever else you need. You can stay with me.”

“I’m not sleeping in your room, either,” she told him.

He frowned. “Where, then? The car? I mean, we’re kind of running out of options.”

“I’ll switch with you,” Brian offered. “Dror and I can move into your place and you can live in ours.”

“No one would want to live in your place,” Stacy said. She smiled at Joan. “You can move in with me.”

“Wait a minute!” Reyn objected. “ You’re supposed to be staying with me .”

“I was,” Stacy said. “But I’m going back to my own place. There’ll be two of us there now.”

“I don’t like it.”

“We’ll be fine. It’s on the top floor, far away from the elevators and the stairs, and surrounded by very responsible people. Not to mention the fact that we’re just going to walk inside, lock the door and stay in until morning.”

“They were waiting for me in my room,” Gary pointed out.

“You will all come with us to check the place out,” Stacy said. “Once you leave, then we’ll lock the door and stay in until morning.”

“I still don’t like it. Make sure you stay away from the window, too.”

Stacy gave a single nod of acquiescence. “In case anyone climbs the building, we will keep the window shut.”

“What about Gary?” Joan asked. “I don’t want him to—”

“He can stay in my room,” Reyn said. “As long as he doesn’t mind camping out on the floor. I’m not sharing my bed with him.”

Gary smiled politely. It didn’t matter what they did, he thought to himself. The Homesteaders had hacked into the school, the DMV, and every credit agency he’d even looked at. Finding the residences of his friends would be a piece of cake.