“Was it?” Tess didn’t sound convinced. “Better than going back to school?”
“I already told you,” he said, a little sharper than he’d meant to, “college wasn’t for me.”
“You mean your scholarship is gone, and Mom can’t afford it by herself.” Tess rattled the popcorn bowl. When he didn’t deny it, she added, “I’m not a baby, Tommy. You don’t have to cushion everything.”
“There’ll be money for you when it’s time to apply.”
“I don’t care if there is or isn’t.” The faint sound of televised screaming drifted in through the receiver. “Mom says Uncle Ryan has work for you. If you want a job so badly, I don’t get why you can’t just do that.”
“This is kind of a unique situation.”
“Is it?” A straw slurped wetly in his ear. “How?”
He didn’t know what to say to that. Did he tell her he’d been hired to babysit a spoiled brat with a trust fund the size of a small country? Did he tell her about Philip’s strange request to spy on Vivienne’s friends? He’d make enough to start chipping away at his mother’s bills. To set aside tuition for his sister. To do all the things his father should have been doing, instead of drinking himself into the dirt.
That’s all that mattered.
In the background, there came the screams of a B-list actress being death rolled by a mega-croc.
“Don’t stay up all night,” he said.
“Rubber, glue,” said his sister, and hung up without a goodbye.
When she was gone, he set aside his phone and pried open his laptop. The sudden throb of blue light seared his eyes, turning the shadows liquid. On the screen, his browser was still open to the last email he’d received. It was a message from his fraternity president—the sixth in what was quickly becoming a long line of unanswered queries.
Thomas,
Me again. Just checking in. Have you run into any trouble transferring your class credits? Some of the others have. If you need any resources, I’m happy to assist.
Don’t hesitate to reach out.
—C
As with the other six messages, he clicked out of the tab without drafting a response. Pulling open a new tab, he typed Vivienne’s name into the search bar.
Several results popped up, most of them for her personal accounts—platforms full of candid snapshots and videos set to music, page after page of dreamy, unfocused portraits. But there were others, too. He scrolled past multiple newspaper headlines about the local dance school. There, on the front page of theConnecticut Journal, was Vivienne—sequined and glittering in the first row of an ensemble, her hands on her hips and her chin upturned. She looked happy. Confident. He kept scrolling.
A few results down he came upon an older headline, this time from a feature article in a national news outlet.
Girl, Four, Found Wandering Red Rock Canyon’s Scenic Drive Three Days After Family Reported Her Missing.
This time, there was no accompanying picture of Vivienne. Only a faraway, grainy shot of several ambulances clustered on the side of a desert switchback. The article was vague. It didn’t tell him much. Only names. Dates. A few quotes from the chief of police. He clicked out of the screen and shut his computer. Sitting back, he rubbed the heels of his hands into his eyes until he saw spots.
He’d figure her out, but it wouldn’t happen overnight.
It definitely wouldn’t happen by trawling the internet, reading decade-old articles.
•••
Eventually, he must have slept, because he was awoken by the sound of scrabbling. He lay on his stomach, his eyes pulled shut against the white spike of sunlight spearing through his blinds, and listened to the ominous rustle of something moving across his room.
Prying one eye open, he found two full-grown Dobermans perched astride his bed, their ears shaped into handsome peaks and their caramel-dark fur brushed to a sheen. At the sight of him peering out at them, their bodies twitched to a standstill. The nearer of the two let out a menacing growl.
Thomas wasn’t afraid of dogs—he’d spent the last several months wrangling breeds of all shapes and sizes—but at the moment he felt less like he’d just come face-to-face with man’s best friend and more like he’d been cornered by a pair of velociraptors.
He lay very still and tried to think what to do.
“Hello,” he said, after a moment’s contemplation.
