Chapter Sixteen
The cigarette shook in my hand as I tried to light it, cupping the flame in my hands. My eyes teared up from the lack of sleep and my heart felt like a ten pound weight was resting on it. I looked around, darting my eyes every which way, making sure that no one was watching me. Then, I let out a harsh laugh.
Paranoid, Amber? No one knows that you know. There is no one following you, watching your every move. Just breathe. I shifted, the papers crinkling in my pocket, and I smoothed my hand over the pocket, making sure they weren’t slipping out.
“Hey.” I jumped at the voice and then wondered how Bailey was able to sneak up behind me. “What’s up? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“Nothing,” I murmured, lying. “Haven’t been getting much sleep lately, that’s all.” The two of us stood there, side by side, leaning up against the community center building. The warm brick felt nice against my chilled body. Clouds hovered on the edges of sky, bringing chilly air and thick fog.
The perfect weather to murder someone. I didn’t know where the thought came from but it sent another set it chills through my body. I felt the weight of Bailey’s arm as he pulled me close to his body.
“Are you sure that you’re okay?” he asked. “You’re acting weird…not yourself. Did something happen?” If only I could tell you.
“I’m fine,” I snapped, pulling myself away. “I told you I’m just tired.” I snubbed out my barely smoked cigarette and pulled the heavy glass door opened. “Come on, I don’t want to miss the meeting.”
“Whatever.” He followed me into the room and we took two empty seats next to one another. The rest of the group was trickling in and waving to us as they sat. Where’s Marci? I wondered. Usually she was here before us, drinking coffee and setting up the desert table. But the desert table was empty and she was nowhere to be found. Instead, a plump woman with salt and pepper hair waddled in, taking Marci’s seat. Her mouth was set in a grim line and she glared at the group over the edge of her square glasses.
“Good morning everyone,” she said. Her voice was brisk and cold, nothing like Marci’s sweet, concerning tone. “My name is Greta and I’ll be filling in for Marci.”
“Where is she?” I asked, interrupting her. “Is she sick? Hurt?”
“I’m not sure,” Greta snapped. “I just got a call and was told to come and take over the group. Now, can one of you tell me where Marci left off? She didn’t leave any notes or outlines.” Notes? Outlines?
“That’s because she didn’t have any of that,” I told Greta. “Marci sat with us, talked with us. She would let us choose if and what we would want to say. She never kept us on any schedule.” Greta shook her head, tsking under her breath.
“Well this is a mess,” she muttered. “No sort of organization, no names for me to check off. What did this girl think she was doing? This isn’t protocol. I can’t do this.” She stood up and crossed her arms over her ample bosom. “I’m cutting this meeting short. Marci should be back by next week and you will be able to resume then. I’m not comfortable with this group. I’m sorry. Goodbye.”
Everyone in the group, myself included, stared at Greta, dumbfounded, as she stalked from the room. Well that was a waste I thought. Not comfortable with the group? What did we do?
Shaking my head in disbelief, I stood up and followed everyone else out into the street.
“Want to grab a bite?” Bailey asked and I shook my head. Just the thought of food made my stomach churn. I went to turn, to go my own way, when Bailey grabbed my arm. His fingers dug into my skin. “What’s going on with you? You’re acting all squirrely. Did something happen? Did you get hurt or something?”
“Do I look hurt?” I asked. “I’m not hurt. I just have a lot on my mind.” I sighed and kicked rocks with my shoes. The two of us began to walk down the block, heading towards his place. I wrung my hands around each other as my heart palpitated underneath my ribs.
“Like?” Bailey pressed.
“Like it’s nothing you need to worry about,” I told him. To my horror, tears escaped from the corners of my eyes.
“Amber?” Bailey questioned. “What’s going on? Talk to me.”
“It’s about Madison,” I whispered. “I…I found out something.”
“Something?” he asked. “Something like what?” Bailey whipped his head around, staring at me. We kept walking, passing two houses until we got to his aunt’s house. Bailey stripped off his shirt and turned on the hose. "Is there a new development? Did they find her? Is she alive? Does she still have her memory? Does she remember what happened to her?" Bailey was firing question after so fast that all I could do was stop and stare at him. My head was spinning. I sat down on a rock, shaded by the tree, and pulled my knees to my chest. "Amber, answer me."
"I don't have answers to any of those questions," I needed to tell him, though, about Madison's profile on Open Realizations. He had to know who she really was and what she really did. "But