Half-Truths Page 2

  “What about sports?”

  “What about them?”

  “We need someone in sports right now. Our guy graduated and the one who was supposed to take his place runs a full-time college sports blog now. He’s still working with us part-time as a favor to me, but he needs to be replaced.”

  “I . . . ” I paused, trying to figure out how to verbalize this. “I don’t really know much about sports. I mean, I know basketball since my boyfriend played and I know soccer, since I played in high school, but that’s the extent of my sports knowledge.”

  “Do you know hockey?”

  “Not really.”

  “Football?”

  “I can learn.”

  “Wow. Three older brothers and none of them bothered to teach you the rules of football or hockey?”

  “The older ones are too far apart in age and the closest to me tried and failed.” I paused, smiling sheepishly. “Like I said, I know basketball.”

  “Well, it’s something.” She frowned. “The one closest to you in age was the one who played here, right?”

  “Yeah. Lincoln.”

  “My daughter had such a crush on him.” She smiled, shaking her head. “Like mother like daughter, I guess. Thankfully, he never found out she existed and she moved on and was spared the Bastón heartache.”

  I pressed my lips together in what I hoped was a smile. What was I supposed to say to a woman who thirty-plus years later, clearly wasn’t over the fact that my father dumped her? Especially one I was hoping to get a job from? Silence really was the best answer to most things. I broke after it stretched for a moment too long.

  She cleared her throat before she spoke. “Do you take good photographs?”

  “I’ve been told I do.”

  “Would you be willing to photograph sports and write about other things? Maybe student relations or dating life as a college student? Something we’ve been lacking is a column on things to do outside of campus, though I’m not sure this is the right timing for that after what happened to Lana.” She sighed heavily.

  “Did you find anything? I mean, when you were allowed to investigate?” I sat up straighter.

  “We got as far as finding out that she was trailing some secret societies, but they won’t talk. Hell, we don’t even know who’s in all of these little secret cults.” She sat back in her chair. It squeaked and bounced back with the force of the movement. “One of the organizations has agreed to let us list them by name every year so that people know who the members are, but the rest are still hiding beneath their red and black cloaks.”

  “Oh.”

  “Well, it’s settled. I’ll provide you with a camera and paperwork. There’s a sports event happening on Friday night. Some sort of mixer. Your assignment starts then.”

  “Thank you so much.” I stood up and shook her hand. “I’ll take the best pictures I can.”

  “And please, if you have anything you’d like to write about, shoot me an email and we’ll talk. I don’t want to discourage you from doing something more.” She gave me another sweep. “Maybe you can write about fashion around campus.”

  “Um . . . maybe. Yeah.”

  I let go of her hand and walked back to the main campus, where the human resources department for the paper was and spent the next hour filling out paperwork and thinking about the kind of secrets people must have in order to be involved in a secret group. Then, I called my brother and filled him in on the last few days of my life.

  “Why would she put you in charge of sports? You don’t even like sports.”

  Lincoln sounded tired. He always sounded tired, whether it was from the lack of sleep or the meds he was on, I wasn’t sure, but his voice was always drowsy.

  “I’m just taking pictures of the sports things.”

  “You’re a senior. Shouldn’t you be in charge of that paper?”

  “I just got here, remember?”

  “So? Tell them who your father is.”

  “Seriously?” I rolled my eyes. “I refuse to fall into that bullshit.”

  “Which is why you’re going to be taking pictures of sports instead of writing actual content.”

  I paused in front of my door, with my key midway to the lock. Under any other circumstance, using my family name might work in my favor. Even in this case, it may have worked in my favor, but who knows. She was letting me get in on the action despite not having applied for a position there. Still, my brother’s tone, as bored and matter-of-fact as he sounded, bothered me.

  “I did tell her who my father is, but guess who she dated in college? Dad. And guess who screwed her over? Dad,” I said, pushing the key into the lock and turning it. “She was dating Dad when he met Mom.”

  “So she’s punishing you for Dad’s actions.” Lincoln snorted. “Just when I think I can’t hate him any more than I already do.”

  “Lincoln.” My eyes widened. That was the only thing he actually did talk about these days—his hatred toward our father. “You’re living under his roof again.”

  “Not by choice. Besides, he’s never home anyway. I wouldn’t be surprised if he doesn’t know I’m here.”

  “Stop saying things like that.”

  “Whatever, Mae. He’s an asshole and that lady tried to put you in charge of fashion,” he said. “So, fuck her too.”

  “Well, I’m not going to argue that sentiment.” I bit back a laugh, because it was the most Lincoln-thing he’d said since the accident. He responded with a laugh of his own, which made me smile wider.

  “What do you think dad will say now that you got another job with another paper after he specifically told you to forget about that dream?”

  “I don’t know.” I set my bags down on the counter and cradled the phone on my shoulder as I undid the straps of my wedges. “He’s the one paying for school and you know he wants all of us to work in one of his businesses, so he’ll probably scream at me, but what’s he going to do? March over here and make me quit the school newspaper?”

  “Are you asking? Because I wouldn’t put it past him.”

  “Lincoln.” I sighed. “I’m trying to think of what else has happened since I’ve been here. Oh. I bumped into some guy today. He was really mean about it.”

  “Want me to go beat him up?”

  “Would you come back here to do that for me?”

  “I wouldn’t go back there for anything.”

  His words stung even though I tried not to let them. I stayed quiet for a moment, hoping he’d add to that statement, wishing I hadn’t been so stubborn and followed a boyfriend to another state instead of attending here with my brother. He would’ve finished a year ahead of me, but that would have been okay. At least I would know what happened to him and maybe help him somehow.

  “How was your day at the psychologist’s office?”

  “Same.”

  “You need to talk about it, Linc,” I said, finally. “If you won’t speak to a professional, at least tell me. I’m supposed to be your best friend.”

  “If I could talk to anyone about it, it would be you. Just stay out of trouble. I have to go.”

  “Okay, I—”

  He hung up before I could tell him I loved him. My shoulder slumped. Whatever happened to him here had turned him into a different person and I refused to let it go until I found out what it was.

  Chapter Two

  “So you made a fool of yourself in front of a hot guy on day one of your arrival?” my new roommate Celia asked, looking at me like I was some kind of alien she wasn’t sure she wanted to associate with.

  “I don’t think I made a fool of myself,” I muttered. “I tripped. Big freaking deal. And I didn’t say he was hot.”

  “You didn’t have to.” She laughed. “I can tell that from the way you flushed while you were telling the story.”

  “I didn’t flush.” I frowned. “I don’t flush.”

  “If you say so.” She looked around. “So, your parent’s own this place?”

  “They
do. All my brothers have lived here. Two in this apartment.”

  “That’s cool. So you have family ties to this place.” Celia rummaged through the box she’d brought into the kitchen, pausing to look at me. “Thank you for letting me rent the room on such short notice and for such a short amount of time. I didn’t think I’d ever find someone who would lease on a month-to-month basis.”

  “It’s not a problem.” I waved her off. “I’ve never had a roommate before, to be honest, but it’ll be fun.”

  “You’ve never lived with a roommate?” She stopped fiddling with the kitchen. “Like ever?”

  “No.”

  “Why?”

  “I never needed or wanted one.” I shrugged. “But this is a two-bedroom and my mother insisted, and I agreed because you know, with the whole Lana Ly situation still ongoing I figured it wouldn’t hurt.”

  “You know about that and you still came?”

  “Yep.”

  “Hm.” She eyed me suspiciously, as if there was a chance I had anything to do with her disappearance. “Where are your things?”

  “They’re being sent here.” I looked at my phone. “They should be here in the morning.”

  “You had all of your things shipped?”

  “Most of them.”

  I didn’t really want to explain the fact that my mother insisted on having everything white-glove packed and delivered for me for the same reason I didn’t want to explain that my father owned the entire building, not just the one apartment. Dating Travis for the last couple of years of my life opened me up to new experiences and made me realize that my life was anything but ordinary, and because I’d been walking on eggshells for so long, I wasn’t sure what was boastful and what was just a statement I could make and shrug off without looking like a spoiled brat, which ultimately meant that I was a spoiled brat nonetheless. It was something I knew and accepted, but not something I wanted people to think I was proud of.

  I turned away from her and walked toward one of the two bay windows the apartment had. The other was in the bedroom I’d already claimed as mine. When my parents showed me the place last week, my father told me to take that room because of the view. The bay window in there had a reading nook, complete with bookshelves surrounding it. It was a lot like the one in my childhood bedroom, and one of my favorite parts of the otherwise sterile, luxurious apartment.

  “When I was looking for a temp place, I definitely did not envision myself living in Millionaire’s Row, I’ll tell you that.”

  I let out a laugh. I’d heard that was what locals called this block. After my father announced to his friends that he was having this building designed and built, they all decided to do the same, contributing to one of the most expensive zip codes in the area.

  “I guess I shouldn’t make fun of you about the roommate thing,” Celia said. “Before this, I had the same roommate since freshman year, but she transferred out after what happened last year. Lana lived in the building right next to ours.”

  “I expected vigils and posters everywhere, but so far you’re the second person to talk to me about it. Where’s the outrage? The concern? The nightly searches?” I asked. “I looked online and the last one I found happened like two months ago.”

  “Yeah.” Celia walked over to the living room and sat down on the couch. I sat across from her, knee bouncing as I waited for her to give me the inside scoop. Normally students talked more than staff, so I was sure she had her own take on what happened. “Honestly, people are still looking, but it’s more on the downlow now. I think we’re all scared, you know? Like, maybe if we don’t talk about it, it never actually happened?”

  “But it did happen. And a missing student isn’t really something people should forget.”

  A missing rich, beautiful, female student that the news talked about on loop was even less likely to forget, so why try? Why not look for her?

  “The media is saying she ran away. It’s happened before, from this very campus. Girls have run off with bad-boy boyfriends, some pregnant, some not. Guys have run off with boyfriends because they knew they wouldn’t be accepted by their families. It’s not uncommon.”

  “That’s not Lana though.” I shook my head.

  Celia frowned. “Did you know her?”

  “Sort of. She and I went to the same high school. She was a year ahead, but we had shared interests, worked for the paper together before she graduated.”

  She stared at me for a beat. “Will you be okay when I move out? Do you want me to help you find another roommate?”

  “I’ll be fine. Why wouldn’t I be?”

  “I don’t know. I’m terrified of living alone after what happened.”

  “Do you think it would happen again?”

  “It could. If you listen to the conspiracy theories around here.” She gave me a grave look. “Personally, I think she was being followed and targeted.”

  “What conspiracy theories? And why? I heard they didn’t even ask for ransom.”

  “I heard they never even called after they took her.”

  “Did the building have a camera?” My stomach twisted. “Don’t they have video surveillance somewhere?”

  “Nope. Not according to the police anyway. The entire thing is very sad and worrying,” she said. “Anyway, this entire thing is creeping me out and I already know I’m going to have nightmares, so let’s change the subject. What are you majoring in?”

  “Business and English. Double major.”

  “What are you going to do with that?”

  “Hopefully work for an online journal or newspaper.”

  “That sounds cool. I’m a psych major, but I think I want to work in career services.”

  “For a university?”

  “Yup. Hopefully this one. Right now, I work at the career services office shuffling papers. My boyfriend got me the position to help pay for my books, so being there has made me realize that I want to help college graduates find jobs.”

  “It’ll look good on your resume,” I pointed out. “Maybe they’ll hire you once you graduate.”

  “Maybe. That’s the goal.” She smiled.

  We talked for a little while longer about our schedules during weekdays and weekends. I liked to sleep in. Celia liked to get up at the crack of dawn, no matter what day of the week it was. As far as first days went, we seemed to be a good fit. When we went our separate ways, she went to call her boyfriend, whom she’d been dating for three years and also attended school here. According to what she told me, when they weren’t together, they always called each other at seven thirty. I went to my bedroom to unpack the few things I had on hand, showered, and changed into my silk pajamas.

  I was putting my hair into a braid as I walked past the bay window in my bedroom when I saw four figures walking to the other side of the street.

  Two had lit cigarettes dangling from their hands. The other two were looking straight ahead. They were all dressed in dark clothes and had stopped just at the edge of the park, near one of the oak trees that had surely seen and heard a lot more than we ever would. I watched as they stood there talking. It seemed like an odd place for four men to be at this time of night. I sat on the bench beside the window and tried to get a closer look. I was on the fourth floor, and they were far enough away from the street light that I couldn’t make out their faces. My curiosity got the best of me, and I squinted, pressing as close as I could to the window, until my forehead touched it. One head glanced up toward me, as if sensing me sitting there. Him. The rude guy I’d bumped into earlier. I was only four stories up, and the light of my nightstand was on, but I was sure he couldn’t see me, not really anyway, but it felt like he was looking right at me, into me. The sound of the front door of my apartment slamming made my heart thump into my chest, pulling me from my trance. I looked away for a second to listen for Celia, and when I looked back outside, they were all gone. I blinked. I wasn’t crazy, but was it possible I’d imagined them there?

  Chapter Three


  When I stepped outside my apartment and turned to lock the door, I saw a flyer for a nearby coffee shop attached to the knob. I pulled it off and looked at it as I locked up. It had a couple of pictures showcasing the homey environment and a coupon for fifty-percent off a drink. I looked at the other doors. Everyone else must have risen way earlier than I had because there were no flyers on their doors. I had to walk a good three blocks away from Millionaire’s Row in order to get the small-town vibe the idyllic town promised. When I reached the area that, according to my doorman, Gary, people around here called College Town, I got that vibe. With mom and pop shops lined along the streets and a plethora of bars and coffee shops, it was exactly what I’d been hoping for. Yet, as the winds picked up, blowing my hair in my face, I wondered what the hell I was doing here. Between my talk with Celia about Lana and thinking about Lincoln all morning, I couldn’t help that nagging thought. I shut it off and kept moving forward until I reached the coffee shop from my flyer.

  As I pulled the door open, the smell of old books and coffee beans hit me. There were bookshelves all along the walls, big blue couches with wood coffee tables in front of them, and a couple of two-seater tables with chairs. It was the perfect place to sit and read, write, or endlessly scroll social media whilst drinking a latte. I walked over to the line and ordered my skinny latte, handing over my flyer as I paid, before sliding over to the other side of the counter where I waited for my drink. I continued to look around. It was pretty empty, despite it being a Sunday afternoon.

  “They say the temperature should stick a few more weeks.”

  “That would be nice.” I turned my attention to the barista making my latte. We had perfect weather right now—mid-sixties and sunny forecast.

  “Gives people a chance to go out on their boats a few more times.”

  I nodded, smiling as I looked around. Maybe while they were out on their boats, I could camp out in here and do some research—more research. Truth be told, I’d stopped Googling things about Lana a month ago, after getting nowhere and not seeing any new information anywhere. Aside from the random Reddit blogs and conspiracy theorists, which I absolutely refused to read, there was nothing to go on. She’d been kidnapped, they said. Taken from her building. But the staff at the building themselves said they’d seen her leave on her own. If that was the case, what was the deal?