Roadside Crosses

in fact think this; she could tell from the rise in the pitch of her voice, one of the few indicators of deception that can be read without the benefit of doing a prior baseline.
    “Not just a little?”
    “Maybe he did. But a lot of boys . . . You know what it’s like.” Her eyes did a sweep of Dance—meaning: boys might’ve had a crush on you too. Even if it was a long, long time ago.
    “Did you two talk?”
    “Sometimes about assignments. That’s all.”
    “Did he ever mention anyplace he liked to hang out at?”
    “Not really. Nothing, like, specific. He said there were some neat places he liked to go. Near the water, mostly. The shore reminded him of some places in this game he played.”
    This was something, that he liked the ocean. He could be hiding out in one of the shorefront parks. Maybe Point Lobos. In this land of temperate climate he could easily survive with a waterproof sleeping bag.
    “Does he have any friends he might be staying with?”
    “Really, I don’t know him real well. But he didn’t have any friends I ever saw, not like my girlfriends and me. He was, like, online all the time. He was smart and everything. But he wasn’t into school. Even atlunch or study period, he’d just sit outside with his computer and if he could hack into a signal he’d go online.”
    “Are you scared of him, Caitlin?”
    “Well, yeah.” As if it was obvious.
    “But you haven’t said anything bad about him on The Chilton Report or social networking sites, have you?”
    “No.”
    What was the girl so upset about? Dance couldn’t read her emotions, which were extreme. More than just fear. “Why haven’t you posted anything about him?”
    “Like, I don’t go there. It’s bullshit.”
    “Because you feel sorry for him.”
    “Yeah.” Caitlin frantically played with one of the four studs in her left ear. “Because . . .”
    “What?”
    The girl was very upset now. Tension bursting. Tears dotted her eyes. She whispered, “Because it’s my fault what happened.”
    “What do you mean?”
    “The accident. It’s my fault.”
    “Go on, Caitlin.”
    “See, there was this guy at the party? A guy I kind of like. Mike D’Angelo.”
    “At the party?”
    “Right. And he was totally ignoring me. Hanging out with this other girl, Brianna, rubbing her back, you know. Right in front of me. I wanted to make him jealous, so I walked up to Travis and was hanging out with him. I gave him my car keys right in front of Mike and asked him to take me home. I was, like, oh,let’s drop Trish and Vanessa off and then you and me can hang out.”
    “And you thought it would make Mike feel bad?”
    She nodded tearfully. “It was so stupid! But he was acting like such a shit, flirting with Brianna.” Her shoulders were arched in tension. “I shouldn’t ’ve. But I was so hurt. If I hadn’t done that, nothing would’ve happened.”
    This explained why Travis had been driving that night.
    All to make another boy jealous.
    The girl’s explanation also suggested a whole new scenario. Maybe on the drive back Travis had realized that he was being used by Caitlin, or maybe he was angry at her for having a crush on Mike. Had he intentionally crashed the car? Murder/suicide—an impulsive gesture, not unheard of when it came to young love.
    “So he’s got to be mad at me.”
    “What I’m going to do is put an officer outside your house.”
    “Really?”
    “Sure. It’s still early at summer school, right? You don’t have any tests coming up, do you?”
    “No. We just started.”
    “Well, why don’t you head home now?”
    “You think?”
    “Yeah. And stay there until we find him.” Dance took down the girl’s address. “If you can think of anything more—about where he might be—please let me know.”
    “Sure.” The girl took Dance’s card. Together they walked back to her crew.
    FLOATING THROUGH HER ears was the haunting quena flute of Jorge Cumbo, with the South American group Urubamba. The music calmed her, and it was with some regret that Dance pulled into the Monterey Bay Hospital parking lot, parked and paused the music.
    Of the protesters, only about half remained. The Reverend Fisk and his redheaded bodyguard were absent.
    Probably trying to track down her mother.
    Dance walked inside.
    Several nurses and doctors came up to express their sympathy—two nurses wept openly when they saw their coworker’s daughter.
    She walked downstairs to the office of the head of security.