Read Online You Can Run by Norah McClintock - Free Book Online

what was really bothering her is what made her run away. Maybe it has nothing to do with you at all.”
    Maybe
. Not a comforting word under the circumstances.
    â€œStill, I could have been nicer to her, especially when she told me her mother was sick.”
    My father didn’t argue with that. Instead he looked at me with his gray eyes. I have the same eyes, the color of slate. “So,” he said, “it looks like you were the last person at school to see her.”
    I nodded. I wasn’t proud of myself.
    â€œYou saw her, the bell rang, you went to homeroom, then you went to your history class, but she didn’t show up. Right?”
    â€œRight,” I said.
    My father took a few more bites of his dinner. Then he said, “You know a kid named Kenneth Merchant?”
    â€œI know who he is,” I said.A stringy kid with chewed-up fingernails and a semi-permanent scowl on his face. He had transferred to my school partway through the final semester of last year. I sort of knew him—everyone sort of knew him. He was the kind of person who kept the rumor mill grinding. Everyone had heard at least one story about where he had been before he transferred to our school—a juvenile detention facility, a boot camp, a psychiatric hospital—and why he had been there. All of the stories were sketchy on details, so it was hard to tell what was true. I had never spoken to him, and he had never spoken to me.
    â€œDid you ever see him with Trisha?”
    â€œI’ve never seen him with anyone. He isn’t in any of my classes. Why?”
    â€œI got the impression that he knows Trisha.”
    â€œGot the impression?”
    â€œOne of the teachers mentioned seeing them together a couple of times. She remembers because she was surprised—‘two loners,’ is how she described them.”
    â€œDid you talk to him?”
    â€œI tried to. But he wouldn’t open his mouth.Wouldn’t look me in the eye, either. Just shook his head a lot.”
    â€œYou think he knows something about Trisha?”
    â€œThat’s what I’d like to find out.” He fiddled with his coffee, stirring it even though it was probably lukewarm. “You know, in a situation like this, normally what I’d do is send in an investigator.” Maybe like he’d sent in that woman who had gone undercover as a maid to grab back the two kidnapped kids. “Someone young enough to pass for a student. Have them go in, establish a presence, ask around, see what they can find out.”
    â€œNormally?”
    His smoky gray eyes hadn’t left mine for a second.
    â€œFirst of all, it’s hard to find someone who can pass for fifteen or sixteen. Second. . . .” He paused for a heartbeat. “You’re already there, Robbie. People either know you or have seen you around. You’re part of the landscape.” Somehow that didn’t sound flattering. It was like being compared to floor tile. “And,” he said, “from what I’ve been able to gather, people don’t make an automatic connection between you and me.”
    That was probably because, as far as I knew, he had never set foot in my high school before the previous morning.
    â€œYou want me to talk to Kenny?” I said.
    â€œHe might say something to you that he wouldn’t say to me.” He raised a hand to catch the waiter’s attention. “But maybe you don’t want to mention it to your mother,” he said.
    â€œSure.”
    He reached across the table and put one of his hands over mine.
    â€œI would never ask you to do anything if I thought it was dangerous or would get you in trouble. You know that, right?”
    I knew.
    â€œCarl Hanover is an old friend. And you’re already there.”
    â€œDad, it’s no big deal. I’m happy to help.” And I was, too. Maybe it would ease my conscience. Despite what my father had said, I still felt partly