Page 16 of The Debutantes
But there’s no answer.
A creeping dread starts up beneath my skin, like whenever I know I’m forgetting something on a test, only this is much worse—because right now, I’m not drawing a blank. It’s the opposite. I have a feeling I know exactly what’s about to happen.
“I’m calling her mom,” Vivian announces, already holding the phone back to her ear.
Her foot taps frantically as it rings, the tone droning on until it’s broken by a muffled “Hello?”
“Mrs. LeBlanc? It’s Vivian. I’m here at the Den with Piper and April, and we’re—” She pauses, listening as Lily’s mom says something I can’t make out. “The Deus Den, yeah. I’ll put them on speaker, hold on.” She does. “So Lily asked us to meet her here, but—”
“Wait, you heard from Lily?” Mrs. LeBlanc’s voice is panicked, and the dread sinks its claws deeper. “When?”
“Last night,” Vivian says. “And just now. She sent us this weird email, but she’s not here, and we found her necklace. Has she—have you heard from her today?”
Lily’s mom is quiet for what must only be a second or two, but already, I know. I can feel her answer in the weight of her silence, the crackle of her voice as it comes through the speaker again.
“I need y’all to stay right there. Don’t move, okay? George and I are on the way.”
“But have you seen—”
“No. We…” Lily’s mom takes a breath. “We haven’t seen her since the ball.”
6VIVIAN
DECEMBER 30, 12:30P.M.
When we were little, Lily used to have this weird obsession with fairy tales. But not the G-rated Disney stuff. The dark versions. Therealversions. She’d hold court in the playhouse on the Beaumont playground and tell the other kindergarten girls the stories like a secret. Stuff likeDid you know that Ariel actually dies at the end of “The Little Mermaid”? Did you know that Cinderella’s stepmother cut off the stepsisters’ toes so they’d fit in the shoe, but they bled all over and that’s how the Prince knew they lied?
That’s how it feels, searching the Den with Lily’s parents. Like one of those screwed-up stories, some version of “Hansel and Gretel” where instead of breadcrumbs, all we have to go on are Lily’s email, her necklace, and a warehouse full of monsters.
We look through everything. The floats, the costume racks and closets, even behind the boxes of old Deus memorabilia. Mr. LeBlanc unlocks the storage room at the back of the warehouse and calls inside, but there’s no answer.
Lily isn’t here.
Her parents make some calls. They ask us if we can meet back at their house to talk to a detective. A detective, like something out of Sav’s guilty-pleasureSVUepisodes. And then I’m driving, thinking the whole time that this can’t be real, because Lily wouldn’t gomissing.That’s not what this is. She’s just… not here. She’s somewhere else.
But that email.
If you’re getting this, something went wrong.
I’m sorry.
I park in the LeBlancs’ driveway, closing my eyes for a second to pull myself together.Easy, Atkins,I hear Coach’s voice in my head.Keep your head up.This is just a misunderstanding. Maybe Lily will even be inside, lounging on the sofa and wondering why we’re all so freaked out.
But she isn’t.
The empty house is freezing. It always is. I clench my teeth as I settle into my usual spot on the living-room sofa, where I wait, watching my phone like a lifeline for a text, another email, anything, but it never comes.
And then the detective is here.
Detective Rutherford looks more like a Hollywood exec than a cop, with his bright white teeth, salt-and-pepper hair, and perfectly pressed button-down. He’s probably the same age as Lily’s dad, early fifties, or maybe a few years younger, but it’s hard to tell. He’s aging well in a way that only rich guys can pull off, and I pick up a definite old-money vibe as he smiles and says, “Please. Call me Marty.”
He also has an accent. Most of the people I know in New Orleans don’t have more than a hint of one, but Call-Me-Marty has that specific Louisiana twang, Southern mixed with something almost like New York. He goes down the line, shaking each of our hands and asking our names before settling down in the chair across from us.
“Thank you so much for coming,” Lily’s mom tells him.
“Of course. Anything for my oldest pals.”
“Marty’s a friend of the family,” Lily’s mom explains. “Lily’s godfather.”
