Zelda gave him a little wave. Wilde waved back.
“The four of us will rotate shifts,” Rola said.
“Wait. You?”
“Yes me. I’ll be in the first group.”
“You can’t bring your kids to the Maynards’.”
“Really, Wilde? I didn’t realize. Thanks for telling me. Can I just jot that down?” Rola mimed a pen in her hand and pad in her palm. “Don’t. Bring. Kids. To. A. Kidnapping.” She put away the air pen. “There. All set.”
“Ah, Rola,” he said, now mimicking her. “You’ll never change, will you?”
That made her smile.
Wilde looked back over at the Honda Odyssey. “So who’s in your car?”
“Emma and the twins.”
The twins, he remembered, were six.
“I’m dropping Zoe and Elijah at a friend’s birthday in Upper Saddle River at a place called the Gravity Vault. One of the moms said she’d watch Emma until Scott gets there. I’ll be at the Maynards’ within the half hour.”
“Okay.”
“Anything I should know?”
“You know the drill.”
Rola gave him a mock salute. “Right.”
For a second, the two of them stood there, unsure what to do.
“I got to go,” Wilde said, awkwardly pointing behind him with his thumb. Then he spun away. He didn’t turn around, but he heard the black Buick peel away, and Rola calmly say, “Zoe, let go of your brother’s hair,” as she climbed back into the minivan.
Ten minutes later, Wilde arrived at the 7-Eleven down the block from the high school. Ava had texted him that she would meet him here because the school itself, after yesterday’s physical altercation with Thor-Bryce, was off-limits. Wilde headed inside, watched the hot dogs circle, saw the Slurpee machines. Nothing changes at a 7-Eleven. Time flows forward everywhere except in a 7-Eleven.
As Ava O’Brien pulled into the parking lot, Wilde felt his phone buzz. He checked the screen and saw it was Gavin Chambers.
“Where are you?” Gavin asked.
“Seven-Eleven.”
“Are you serious?”
“I could snap a picture of a Slurpee as proof.”
“Wait there.”
“Why?”
“Something you need to see. Don’t move.”
Chambers hung up. Ava came in and without preamble asked, “What’s so important?”
No hello. No greeting of any sort. Maybe Ava was upset about yesterday. She looked more harried today, though no less beautiful. Her eyes sparkled when they looked up at him.
Following her lead, Wilde got to the point: “Do you know Saul Strauss?”
Ava made a face. “That activist on TV?”
“Yes.”
“I know who he is, sure.”
“I mean, do you know him personally?”
“No. Why?”
“You’ve never spoken to him or communicated with him in any way?”
“No. Again: Why?”
“Because he knew about my encounter with Crash at your school.”
“So did everyone else,” Ava said. “We ended up out in the parking lot, remember?”
“He knew more than that.”
“I don’t understand. What are you asking me here?”
“I’m trying to figure out Saul Strauss’s source.”
The sparkling eyes caught fire. “This is why you dragged me out of school during my free period? I’m not his source, Wilde. And why would someone like Saul Strauss care about any of this anyway?”
Wilde said nothing.
Ava looked annoyed. “Hello?”
He didn’t know how much to tell her. He believed her about not knowing Strauss — and even if she did, he couldn’t follow the line of logic. Suppose Ava worked with Strauss somehow. Suppose Ava told Strauss that Wilde had confronted Crash about a missing teenage girl. So what follows? Strauss kidnaps the boy? Did that make any sense?
Too many missing pieces.
“Crash Maynard is missing,” Wilde said.
That surprised her. “Wait, when you say ‘missing’—”
“Ran away, hiding, kidnapped, whatever. Last night he was home. Today he’s gone.”
Ava took that in for a moment. “You mean like Naomi?”
“Yes.”
She took two steps toward the back so that they were now standing by the chips and salty snacks. He didn’t interrupt with a question. Not yet. He wanted to give her some time.
“That may explain some stuff,” Ava said.
“Like?”
“I thought Naomi was... I don’t know. ‘Lying’ is too strong a word. ‘Exaggerating’ is too mild.”
Wilde waited. When she didn’t say anything else, he asked, “What about?”
“Crash.”
“What about him?”
“Naomi has been hinting lately that she had a secret boyfriend — someone super popular. I didn’t take it seriously. Do you remember that old bit about the guy who says, ‘Oh, I have a hot girlfriend, but you wouldn’t know her’?”
Wilde nodded. “She lives in Canada or something.”
“Right.”
“You thought Naomi was making it up.”
“Or imagining it, whatever. Yeah, at first.”
“And then?”
“Then after I pushed a little, she told me that the boy was Crash Maynard. She said the whole Challenge game was a cover and that Crash got jealous because she went into the woods with Matthew.”
Matthew.
“What did you say to that?” Wilde asked.
“I started wondering whether Crash was setting her up again.”
“Pretending to like her so he could ultimately humiliate her?”
“Yes. Like in Carrie. Or, wait, wasn’t the boy who asked Carrie out in the movie nice? Didn’t he try to defend her but then the bullies poured pig’s blood on her?”
Wilde didn’t remember. “So you think maybe Crash does like her?”
“I don’t know,” Ava said, chewing on her lower lip. “But maybe the simplest answer is the best one — Naomi and Crash are together. Maybe they just want a few days alone. Maybe it isn’t our business.”
Something wasn’t adding up. Or it was adding up too neatly.
“I have to get back,” Ava said.
“Let me walk you to your car.”
They headed out to the parking lot. Ava hit the unlock button. He wanted to open the door for her, but that felt too faux chivalrous. When she got into the driver’s seat, he signaled for her to lower the window for a moment. She did. Wilde leaned against the opening.
“I also talked to Naomi’s dad.”
“And?”
“He said Naomi’s mother was abusive.”
He filled her in on the details of his conversation with Bernard Pine. As Ava listened, her eyes glistened with tears. “Poor Naomi. I knew the relationship hadn’t been good obviously. But that?” Ava shook her head. “I better go.”
“You’ll be okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine.”
“You want me to stop by your place later?” he asked.
The words just came out. Wilde hadn’t planned them. That wasn’t like him.
Ava looked surprised. She took another swipe at her eyes and turned to him. “When?”
“I don’t know. Tonight maybe. Tomorrow. We can just talk.”
Ava looked out the front windshield rather than at him.
“No pressure,” Wilde added. “I may not be free anyway, what with Crash and Naomi—”
“No, I’d like that.”
Ava reached through the open window and put her hand on his face. He waited. She looked as though she was about to say more, but in the end, she just took her hand away. She put the car in reverse, pulled out, and headed back toward the school.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
“So you got Arnie Poplin ready?” Hester asked.
Hester stood facing the computer monitor in the Maynards’ state-of-the-art studio/office. The room was white and steel and looked more like something you’d find in a refurbished Manhattan loft rather than this old estate, but there it was. There were television screens lining the walls. Her producer Allison Grant was on the line.