Chapter 11
Ms. Dalton was gone by the time police looked for her.
Her classroom sat unlocked.
Her purse was missing.
Her car wasn’t in the faculty lot.
Principal Mercer claimed she had called in sick.
Nobody believed him.
Dad stood inside the administration office while detectives questioned staff.
I waited with Aunt Claire.
“You know,” she said, “when your father said private school would broaden your social experience, I doubt this was what he had in mind.”
I looked at her.
“Did he tell you that?”
“He tells me more than he thinks.”
“That sounds impossible. You barely talk.”
Claire’s smile faded.
“We used to.”
I wanted to ask more.
Instead, Daniel entered.
“Police have Dalton’s plate flagged.”
Dad followed him.
“What about Mercer?”
“Still here. Lawyered up.”
“Richard?”
“No location.”
“Victor?”
“Federal authorities confirmed he crossed into Mexico.”
“With Chloe?”
“Yes.”
I swallowed.
Claire noticed.
“You’re worried about her.”
“I don’t like her.”
“That wasn’t what I said.”
I stared at the floor.
“Her father might be using her as leverage.”
Claire nodded.
“Possible.”
I thought of Madison.
“Do terrible people know they’re terrible?”
Claire considered it.
“Some do.”
“And the others?”
“They become very talented at explaining themselves.”
That answer stayed with me.
A detective called Dad into another room.
Minutes later, he returned holding a copy of an old incident log.
“We have something.”
I stood.
“What?”
“On the day Maya disappeared, Dalton signed a vehicle checkout form.”
“For what?”
“A school passenger van.”
“Where did she say she was going?”
“Student transportation emergency.”
My heart pounded.
“With Maya?”
“No student named.”
Claire frowned.
“Vehicle GPS?”
Dad looked at Daniel.
“Lane Education Technologies maintained the tracking system.”
Of course.
“And the data?”
“Deleted.”
Of course again.
I felt anger burn through me.
“They planned everything.”
“Maybe,” Dad said.
“You still say maybe?”
“Yes.”
He looked at me.
“Because when this goes to court, maybe and definitely are separated by evidence.”
I hated how often he was right.
Police searched Dalton’s classroom.
Inside a locked cabinet they found old student files.
Not official records.
Copies.
Photographs.
Disciplinary notes.
Names highlighted in yellow.
Every highlighted student was receiving financial aid.
Including Elena.
Noah.
Maya.
And twelve others.
I stared at the list.
“They tracked them.”
Claire nodded.
“Looks that way.”
Then I noticed a handwritten symbol beside some names.
A small red circle.
“What does that mean?”
Nobody knew.
Elena’s name had one.
Maya’s had two.
Noah’s had one.
Three girls had three circles.
Dad photographed the page.
“We identify every student.”
Claire began making calls.
I kept staring.
One name felt familiar.
Jasmine Lee.
“Wait.”
I pulled out my phone.
I searched old Westbridge posts.
Jasmine had won a state debate championship two years ago.
Then disappeared from the team.
Another name.
Kayla Morgan.
Varsity swimmer.
One season.
Gone the next.
I scrolled.
“These weren’t random students.”
Dad looked at me.
“What do you mean?”
“They were successful.”
Claire leaned closer.
I pointed.
“Elena got a science program over Madison.”
“Maya investigated finances.”
“Noah?”
We searched.
Noah Park had been student council treasurer.
My stomach dropped.
“He would have seen activity fund accounts.”
Dad nodded slowly.
“Good catch.”
I looked again.
Every student had something.
Awards.
Leadership.
Academic rankings.
“They weren’t pushing out weak students.”
Claire understood.
“They were pushing out students who threatened donor children.”
I felt sick.
Merit had become dangerous.
Dad’s phone rang.
He answered.
His face changed almost immediately.
“Where?”
He motioned for us to move.
“They found Dalton’s car.”
My chest tightened.
“Where?”
“Malibu.”
We drove west with police coordination.
I stayed in the SUV until Dad received clearance.
Dalton’s car had been abandoned near a coastal overlook.
No Dalton.
Her phone sat on the passenger seat.
That felt deliberate.
Inside the trunk, investigators found a Westbridge emergency blanket.
A bottle of water.
And an old student ID.
Maya Bennett.
I stared at the photograph.
“She kept it?”
A detective nodded.
“We don’t know why.”
The plastic card was scratched.
On the back, someone had written numbers.
I leaned closer.
“Is that a phone number?”
Dad looked.
Ten digits.
Daniel searched it.
Disconnected.
Registered years earlier to a prepaid account.
Then Claire noticed something.
“Turn it upside down.”
We did.
The digits weren’t a phone number.
They were coordinates.
Daniel entered them into a map.
A location appeared north of Los Angeles.
Angeles National Forest.
My stomach tightened.
Police immediately began coordinating a search.
Dad told me I was going home.
This time I didn’t argue.
Not because I wanted to leave.
Because I finally understood that whatever they might find there could be bigger than I was ready to see.
On the drive, Madison called.
Her voice sounded hollow.
“My dad contacted me.”
Dad motioned for speaker.
“When?” I asked.
“Ten minutes ago.”
“Where is he?”
“He wouldn’t say.”
“What did he want?”
Madison hesitated.
“He told me to leave California.”
Dad’s face hardened.
“With him?”
“No.”
“Then what?”
“He said there was money in an account under my name.”
Claire cursed quietly.
Madison continued.
“He told me to go to Canada.”
“What did you say?”
“I asked him what happened to Maya.”
Silence.
My fingers tightened around the phone.
“What did he say?”
Madison began crying.
“He said he never meant for anyone to get hurt.”
Dad closed his eyes.
I whispered, “Madison.”
“He kept saying that.”
“What exactly?”
“That it was supposed to be business.”
I felt cold.
Then Madison said, “Avery, he told me Dalton panicked.”
Dad leaned forward.
“What does that mean?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did he say where Dalton took Maya?”
“No.”
A message appeared while we were speaking.
From Daniel’s team at the forest search.
Dad read it.
His entire face changed.
“What?” I asked.
He didn’t answer.
“Dad.”
Claire took the phone from him.
Her hand flew to her mouth.
I grabbed it.
Search teams had found an abandoned storage structure near the coordinates.
Inside were old Westbridge files.
Clothing.
A backpack.
And carved into the wooden wall were four letters.
MAYA.
May you like
Underneath was a date.
Three days after she supposedly disappeared.
