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“I need a damn distraction.” I could go to the get-together, but I feel like if I do, it won't be much fun.

So instead I do what I used to do all the time. I get dressed in a pair of running pants, a sports bra, then pull on a hoodie, my sneakers, pop my earbuds in, and tug on a hoodie. Then I head out of my dorm.

The air is chilly and the sky is a gloomy grey, but it has stopped raining, so that’s a plus. Like earlier, the quad yard is fairly vacant as I start across it, puddles splashing with each jogging step I take. When I reach the main sidewalk, I take off in a faster run. My heart pounds in my chest and my bones and muscles ache the longer I run. It’s a blissful sort of state, one where my mind is so fixated on one thing—to keep going—that there’s no room for anything else.

No room to think about Ivy.

No room to worry about my sister.

No room to question if something is wrong with me.

It’s part of why I love running. It takes so much mental strength that it’s all that exists; me, my mind, and the open space before me.

I keep going for a long time, refusing to stop until I have to. I run out of room in town, so I head outward, toward the hills where the houses are scarcer. When I run out of room there, I drip back and head toward the campus, taking a different route than I normally do. As I grow tired, I start to note my surroundings a bit more and realize I’m getting close to where the party took place. I crinkle my nose at that thought as I slow down to wait for some cars to cross the road at an intersection.

I keep bouncing up and down, pacing back and forth to keep my heart rate up. Once I’m good to go, I step off the curb and foot ends up landing in a massive puddle.

“Dammit,” I curse as my shoe gets drenched.

As I jump to the side to avoid getting my other foot in the water, I end up kicking something that was lying in the puddle. It skitters across the road a few feet and looks like a driver’s license.

“Someone is definitely going to be missing this,” I mutter as I bend down to pick it up.

I’m not surprised it’s lost here, though. A lot of drunk college kids wander around in this area on Friday and Saturday nights. However, when I see the name on the license, I realize it’s more than just that.

Because the license belongs to Ivy.

Chapter 12

Harper

“Hi,” I say to the blond-haired older woman sitting behind the desk that’s in front of me.

The second I realized I had Ivy’s identification, I ran over to the police department, which was a handful of blocks away. I entered, looking like a mad woman, since it started to rain again. I’m soaked and frozen to the bones. Not to mention my anxiety is sending shivers through my body. But I’m going to blame that on the cold.

“Are you okay?” the woman behind the desks asks me with concern.

I set Ivy’s license on the desk. “I just found this in a puddle on the corner of Maple and second street.”

The crease between the woman’s brows fade as she picks up the card and reads the names. “Oh my god.” She shakes her head and looks up at me. “You say you found this in a puddle?”

I nod. “I was running and stepped into it and ended up kicking that, so I brought straight here because I know she’s missing.”

She stares at the card for a beat long before snapping out of it. “Let me go get a detective to talk to you. Can you stick around for a bit?”

“Um… sure.” I didn’t really think about how I’d have to talk to the detective, but it makes sense.

I wish I wasn’t soaked, though.

“Go have a seat over there, honey.” She points at the chairs in the waiting room, then she gets up and rushes down a hallway.

I take a seat and lower my head into my hands, wanting nothing more than to get out of these clothes and pass out. That was the point of the run—to wear my racing thoughts out. And I am exhausted, but the thoughts I was attempting to escape are picking at my brain, like an old scab about to peel off.

A middle aged man dressed in a black suit walks out of the hallway and into the sitting area. “Hello,” he greets me. “I’m assuming you’re the person that found Ivy’s ID card.”

I nod and stand to my feet. When I notice his gaze stray over me, I feel the need to explain. “I was out running when it was raining. I actually found the identification card in a puddle.”

He has a pen in his hand and a notebook. “What street was it on?”