Daddy Darkest Read online

  “Um . . . ” I didn’t look up. I didn’t have to. After staring at those boots for the three-hour plane ride, they were unmistakable. “Don’t bite my head off, but are you okay?”

  I didn’t want to say it out loud. It felt irrevocable, like casting a spell, but it demanded saying. “I can’t find my friend. She’s gone.”

  3

  OCCAM’S RAZOR

  “Are you sure she didn’t leave without you?” Levi joined me on the carousel’s edge as it ground to a stop.

  “No!” I smacked the top of Ginny’s unclaimed suitcase with my palm, and he jumped. “Sorry,” I murmured, waiting for him to do something—walk, run, or excuse himself away from me, crazy airport girl. “She wouldn’t do that.” I flipped her phone between my palms, that message still gnawing at my brain. “She never came out of the bathroom.” I was sure of it now.

  “It’s Samantha, right?” I nodded half-heartedly, wishing I was someone else. “Well, Samantha, that doesn’t make any sense.”

  He was doing it again. That adult voice. “I know it sounds crazy, but that’s what happened.” I produced the only evidence I had. “This is her phone. I found it in one of the stalls.” Levi read the message to himself. Frowning, he rubbed the stubble on his chin. “Clare,” he said aloud. Then he got quiet. Good, I thought. Keep your judgments to yourself, hot airplane boy. But then, “There’s got to be a logical explanation. A simple one. You know, Occam’s razor and all.”

  “Funny you’d say that, creepy stranger who made a subtle threat to my missing friend.” I stood up with no idea where to go.

  “Touché.” His laugh was a warm blanket I wanted to nestle into—Ginny would be back any minute to steal my spotlight like she always did—but instead I shrugged it off. “Am I really that creepy?” he teased.

  To my horror, I actually giggled. Ginny was missing. Gone. And I was making eyes at hot airplane boy. What a complete bitch! That’s what Ginny would’ve said. “This isn’t funny. In case you haven’t noticed, I’m kinda freaking out here.” Tugging both bags awkwardly, one in each hand, I turned my back to him and started fast walking.

  “Oh, I noticed.” He was right behind me. “There are police at the security counter up on the ticketing level if you’re interested.”

  “Police?” That word landed like a sucker punch, and I spun around to face him.

  He shrugged. “You said she wouldn’t leave. She’s not here. And you seem to think I had something to do with that. So . . . ”

  “Do you think something bad happened to her?” I whispered that word the way a child would. As if saying it would make it so.

  He shook his head. “I don’t think she’s hooked up with Cutthroat yet, if that’s what you’re asking.”

  “Fine.” I produced my yearbook smile. “Thanks for your help. I’m sure you have somewhere to be.”

  He backed away from me and gave a lukewarm wave. “Suit yourself.”

  “Virginia Dalton, please report to the Terminal Two Security Desk.” Ginny was going to skin me alive for telling them her full name. When our freshman English teacher had called roll that first day, her face had turned crimson. It sounds like the name of a pilgrim. An unattractive pilgrim, she’d lamented. I’d thought it sounded lovely. Mature and distinguished. Two qualities Ginny lacked.

  “What happens now?” I asked. I’d been standing there staring at Officer Guthrey since he first paged Ginny ten minutes ago. In between bites of a thick sandwich, he’d already echoed Levi’s skepticism.

  “We wait for her to turn up.” Chew. Chew. Chew.

  “And if she doesn’t?”

  He took a swig of coffee from his mug. “She will. They usually do.”

  “They?”

  “Missing teenagers.”

  I sighed. “But what about the note? Ginny would never leave her phone.”

  “Listen. I know you’re worried about your friend, but more than likely she’s playing games with you. You said yourself the two of you had a little tiff on the plane—”

  “It wasn’t a—”

  “ . . . about a boy. She’s probably gone to the hotel—”

  “She wouldn’t—”

  “ . . . ahead of you. It’s getting late. I betcha she’ll be there waiting.” I opened my mouth to launch another protest, but he held up his hand. “Here. Take my card. If you haven’t heard from her in forty-eight hours, we can file a missing person’s report. In the meantime, I’ll take a walk up to the bathroom and see what I see. Okay?”

  “Forty-eight hours?” Our flight home left in less.

  He answered my question with one of his own. “Is there someone you can call? Your mother? Her mother? A friend? To let them know what’s happened.”

  I nodded, hoping my face didn’t give it away. No chance in hell I planned on telling my mom about any of this. Not yet anyway. She’d already responded to my I’m-fine-and-will-call-when-I-get-to-the-hotel text with three unanswered calls. I pocketed Officer Guthrey’s card and left the security desk. Still Ginny-less.

  The glass doors parted for me, and I wheeled the bags into a cold fog, unthinking, like a zombie unearthed in the world of the living. I laid my suitcase onto the sidewalk, rifling through its outer pocket for my sweater. An unwelcome reminder that Ginny had my jacket. I pulled my arms through the sleeves and sat on my bag, trying to ward off the sudden nausea with a long inhale, exhale. At least Ginny paid for the hotel in advance with her mother’s credit card. The graduation money in my wallet—a grand total of $500—wouldn’t get me far.

  “What now?” I said aloud to no one.

  “Want to share a taxi?” Levi leaned up against the wall, headphones in his ears, hands in his pockets. I had to admit, as pathetic as it sounded, I was relieved to see him, grateful for the momentary shushing of the panicked voice in my head. I didn’t even care he caught me talking to myself. Because I’d never taken a taxi anywhere. Bellwether had two stoplights, more tractors than people, and zero taxis. And, if I’m being honest, because he was ridiculously good-looking.

  “Okay. Now you’re officially creepy.”

  He half-smiled, but the lights from inside cast tiny half-moons under his eyes, making him seem serious, pensive. “I figured you’d say that. You can tell me no if you’d like, but I thought you might want some company, given the circumstances.”

  “And what circumstances are those?”

  He ticked them off on his fingers. “You being in a new city alone. Your friend being missing. That cryptic note. The police not believing you and telling you to come back in forty-eight hours . . . I’m just guessing here.”

  “All true,” I admitted. “I’ll share a cab if we drop you off first. I don’t want any creepers to know where I’m staying.”

  “Fair enough.”

  A few minutes later, Levi and I sat in the back of a taxi, his closeness already familiar to me. I leaned toward him just a little, inhaling the scent of his leather jacket. It barely drowned the stench of stale cigarette smoke. I felt giddy. I felt guilty. I wasn’t sure how to feel, so I pretended to be Ginny. Within a three-mile radius of a cute boy, she always knew what to do.

  “Do you really think she could be at the hotel?” I asked as he settled in, winding the cord of his headphones into a tight coil.

  “It wouldn’t surprise me. She’s probably researching the hottest hot spots right now.” His words were a comfort, a momentary paperweight for the chaos inside me, even if I didn’t believe them. “In fact, I’ll bet she’s typing that exact phrase into Google.”

  I grinned, then redirected. Get him talking about himself—a boy’s favorite subject. That tidbit was somewhere in Ginny’s playbook. “You never told us why you came to San Francisco.” Despite her best efforts, Ginny had only coaxed the vital stats. Name: Levi Beckett. Age: Twenty-one, almost twenty-two. Favorite basketball team: San Antonio Spurs. Relationship status: Single.

  “Long story. Short cab ride.”

  “So that’s how it’s going to be. Man
of mystery, huh?”

  “For now.”

  I pushed my lower lip out into an exaggerated pout, hoping I didn’t look as silly as I felt. “If I guess right, will you tell me?”

  “If you guess right, then we’re going to Vegas, because you, Samantha, are a mind reader.” Maybe I wasn’t as hopeless as I thought. The way he said my name sounded a lot like flirting.

  “Well, Mr. Beckett, you don’t strike me as a tourist. You’re not visiting your girlfriend. Um . . . job interview? It’s that or a super-secret spy mission.”

  Levi threw his head back, laughing. At me. Not with me. And I squashed the sudden urge to karate chop his Adam’s apple. Headphones in hand, still chuckling, he reached down to open his backpack. His backpack. His backpack. His only luggage. I scoured my memory hoping I was wrong.

  “You travel light.” When he nodded, I pushed harder. “So why were you waiting at baggage claim?”

  He didn’t answer right away. His crocodile-green eyes were such a compelling distraction, I almost missed it, deep in the gullet of his backpack. Like most of Bellwether’s residents, my mother owned one just like it, hidden in a safe under her bed. Just in case, she’d told me when I turned sixteen. Right before she’d sent me to a weapons safety class and revealed the eight-digit password—my birth date—to open Pandora’s box. I’d never asked in case of what.

  Before Levi caught me looking, I turned my face to the window and listened for the sound of the zipper. When all its teeth were gnashed together, the quiet palpable between us, I realized I was holding my breath. Still, I didn’t move until he spoke.

  “I was headed out of the airport to my, uh, . . . job interview . . . ” He paused for my obligatory eye roll. “ . . . when I ran into you. It seemed like you needed help. And what can I say? I’m a sucker for a damsel in distress.”

  My throat closed around unspoken words, snuffing them out like a flame pressed between cold fingers. My insides were alive, crawling with the inexplicability of my new reality. Ginny, missing. Me, in a taxi with Levi Beckett. And his gun.

  4

  NAÏVE

  I found a hole in the taxi’s seat just beneath my hand, a small wound in the Naugahyde. I prodded the foam flesh with my finger as we drove, desperate for a diversion. Levi’s backpack had taken on life. It was squatting like a toad—mouth closed—barely visible in the darkness. He hadn’t reached for it again. Thankfully. Still, the metallic taste of fear lingered on my tongue, no matter how many swigs of bottled water I downed. Ahead of us, a procession of brake lights snaked toward the city. Stop and go. Stop and go. Levi rolled down his window, letting in a gust of air that felt more December than June. It shocked me into speaking.

  “Short cab ride, huh?”

  Levi shrugged. “Typical Bay Area gridlock. Should’ve figured. I guess you don’t see a lot of traffic jams in Bellwether, Texas.”

  “We don’t see much of anything in Bellwether—unless hayfields and farm animals count.”

  “So you’re a cowgirl?”

  “I’m a guard. Basketball. No cows involved.” I wasn’t about to tell Levi about my mom’s herd of cattle. Or the chickens she kept in a coop behind our house.

  “That’s too bad,” he said. “I lived on a farm for a little while.”

  “You did?”

  “Why so surprised? Can’t picture me in Wranglers, boots, and a cowboy hat?”

  “Not really. You seem like a textbook city slicker.”

  Laughing, he pointed to my cell phone, propped precariously on my thigh. “I think your leg is buzzing.” I flipped it over, face down, hoping he hadn’t seen it. “You can answer it. I don’t mind.”

  I shook my head. “Trust me, you don’t want to hear that conversation. My mom didn’t exactly give this trip her blessing.”

  He narrowed his eyes at me like he was seeing me for the first time. “Really? I wouldn’t have figured you for a rebel.”

  The old me would’ve left it alone, laughed it off. Ginny had the big mouth. But without her here, I felt different, altered in some inexplicable way. “What would you have figured me for then?”

  “Hmm. That’s a tough one. You didn’t say much on the plane. Hardly looked at me. But then again . . . to hear you tell it, I’m not much to look at.”

  My cheeks flamed, so I took refuge in the darkness, turning my face from him. “Ginny talks enough for the both of us.”

  “Maybe you like it that way,” he offered. “Then you can be just as mysterious as me.”

  I caught my own eyes in the window, wide with surprise. “I’m about as far from mysterious as it gets.”

  “I know.” A part of me wished he hadn’t agreed, that he’d entertained the idea at least.

  “You think I’m naïve, don’t you?”

  “No. Ginny is naïve. You’re just inexperienced.”

  “There’s a difference?”

  His nod was stern, like a teacher. “Absolutely.”

  Before I could get clarification on that essential distinction, the cab slowed to a complete stop. It was a trick of the flashing lights—blue, then red, blue, then red—the way Levi’s backpack pulsed like a beating heart. His hands left his knees and searched it out, tucking it closer to the seat while I pretended not to see him. “What’s going on?” I asked him, pointing out the window. A line of orange traffic cones dictated our path. A few cars ahead, a stop sign loomed.

  “Looks like some kind of police checkpoint.”

  The driver cursed under his breath and laid on the horn in protest. “Damn criminals, always screwing things up for the rest of us. I tell you, they ought to just take ’em out back and pop-pop-pop. A bullet to the head. Save us the trouble.”

  “Criminals?” I directed my question to the back of his head, where a thin wisp of jet-black hair covered an otherwise bare surface.

  “Yeah. I’m sure you’ve heard of him. What’s his name? Calvert? Culligan? Cull—”

  “Cullen.” The name left Levi’s mouth fast, like it’d been poised on the tip of his tongue all along. “Cutthroat Cullen. What’s he got to do with this traffic?”

  “Dispatch said somebody reported him walking on the freeway. Trying to hitch a ride, I guess.” We inched forward, and an officer waved us ahead. “Or jack one.”

  Levi scoffed. “Bullshit. No way he’s stupid enough to take that kind of risk.”

  The driver shrugged. “The way I figure it, he’s not that smart. Got caught once before, didn’t he? Anyway, I hope you two don’t have nothin’ to hide.” His chuckle made me shiver like I’d packed that gun myself.

  “Evening, folks.” The officer leaned in through the open window. Behind the sweeping beam of his flashlight, his face was all angles and shadows. “We’re looking for this man. Have you seen him?” He held up a laminated poster. Cullen’s mug shot. The words ARMED AND DANGEROUS in bold red type.

  I gulped, murmured no, and waited for Levi to do the same.

  “You really think he’s out here with his thumb up? With all due respect, Officer, that seems unlikely. You’re wasting your time and ours.” Levi’s fingers drummed on his lap—ready—and I saw it all unfolding. The way he would reach toward the black cave of the floorboard, the mouth of his bag gaping, and exhume the thing he buried there. He would point it. Fire it. The bullet an extension of his obvious contempt. The policeman would never see it coming until he did. His knees would fold. His body would crumple. His blood would rain, showering the driver’s bald head. And I’d be next. Collateral damage.

  “Just doing our job, sir. Sorry for any inconvenience.” The officer ushered us past the stop sign and back into moving traffic. I snuck a glance back just to be sure. Still alive. My pulse pounded in my ears, unconvinced, the drum of my heart echoing like a ball bouncing on hardwood. Surely, Levi could hear it. But when I finally mustered the courage to look at him, he did the unthinkable. He winked.

  It would be a lie to say I was glad to be rid of Levi. We dropped him off at the Dragon Gate entrance to Chi
natown, where he disappeared into the lively crowd. But I was relieved to see that black backpack get farther and farther away from me. Far enough so I could pretend I’d imagined it. I found the gate in the guidebook Ginny had given me, a heart drawn next to it. One of her big-city tour stops, no doubt.

  Despite my protests, Levi paid the cab fare for both of us and sent me on my way. “Good luck with Ginny.” That was all he said. I felt his warm hand on my forearm for a heartbeat. Then, he was gone. I sank back against the seat and closed my eyes, immediately exhausted. Levi reminded me of Ginny. He was like a lightning rod, taking the current with him and leaving me dull and empty. This is how it’s going to be. I began the inner monologue I’d been practicing all spring since I accepted a basketball scholarship to Baylor. Me. Lonely. Next year. All the time. Ginny at UT—and me in Waco (or Wacko, as Ginny called it). Better get used to it, Sam.

  “Westin St. Francis,” the cab driver announced. He might’ve been saying bread or rock or carpet. The words sounded just as lifeless as I felt. He opened the door—left it that way—and walked to the trunk, producing the suitcases. “Have a good one.” In Bellwether, most goodbyes were longer than you preferred, even perfunctory ones. But the driver was head down and pedal to the metal before I could even get my bearings.

  I wheeled the bags inside, ignoring the doorman’s offer to help, and found myself at the entrance to another world. A chandeliered, marbled, polished, something-out-of-a-magazine world. One where girls didn’t go missing. Ginny would definitely be here, probably lounging in a chair nearby, watching me. She’d remind me to ask about room 1219, the haunted one, where that jazz musician died. Another heart in her guidebook. And then we’d stay up late, whispering about Levi. I might even embellish a little as payback. I didn’t look for her. I wanted her to see me checking in, nonchalant, like I could do this without her.