Free Driver's Dead by Peter Lerangis

looked ripped apart, as if a bomb had exploded inside it.
    Among the stuff strewn about, Kirsten recognized one item. A glossy sheet of paper, crumpled and charred, with the words, WIN THE CAR OF YOUR DREAMS! visible.
    The flyer she’d thrown at Rob.
    Kirsten’s breath quickened. It was the last thing they had looked at together. She glanced at the cops. They were deep in conversation. Quietly she knelt down and picked up the flyer.
    She read the words KIRSTEN’S CAR written across the top.
    But her heart stopped when she looked underneath.
    The car in the photo was gone.

Chapter 13
    I T HAD TO BE a trick.
    Rob must have had several of these flyers. He was planning to show Kirsten different ones throughout the night. To confuse her. Tease her.
    The flyer Kirsten had thrown at Rob had a photo of the Escort. Surely if she snooped around, she’d find it.
    Kirsten kicked aside the scattered papers. She looked over the cordon, scanned the ground. She saw the cigarette pack Rob had dropped, but nothing else. Now some people in the crowd were staring at her. And some cops.
    Kirsten felt weak again. Knotted. Shivery.
    She turned from the crowd, trying to look as normal as possible, and headed home.
    Shock. Grief. Betrayal. Fear. One feeling flooded over the other. The neighborhood seemed to be spinning. Kirsten reached her house in a daze.
    When she opened the door, she was hit by the smell.
    It was suffocating now, no longer a vague stuffiness. The smell was heavy, rotten, as if a dead animal were decomposing in some hidden corner.
    Was this what it felt like to lose your mind? First you start seeing things, then hearing things, then smelling dead animals in your nice middle-class house… .
    Next comes the lobotomy.
    CALL EXTERMINATOR! Kirsten wrote on a sheet of paper by the kitchen phone.
    The smell was making her dizzy. She went to one of the kitchen’s casement windows and began cranking it open.
    Bleeeeep!
    Kirsten jumped at the sudden sound.
    The phone. Calm down.
    She lifted the receiver. “Hello?”
    â€œKirsten!” Her mom was practically yelling. “I just heard what happened. Are you all right?”
    â€œYeah. Fine.”
    â€œHow did you get home?”
    â€œWalked.”
    â€œBy yourself?”
    â€œMom, you raised me in New York City, remember? I can walk home alone in Port Lincoln.”
    I just can’t stand this house, that’s all. Plus I may soon be wanted for the killing of the boy who kept me out late and stole my keys, who was actually run over by an ex-girlfriend in a car that materialized out of thin air. Now excuse me while I look for a Ford Escort that fell out of a photo.
    If she even began telling her parents any of this, forget it. Off to the psychiatric ward.
    â€œOh, Kirsten,” her mom said, “I’m so sorry. What an awful thing to happen. Did you know the boy?”
    Kirsten bit her lip. “A … a little.”
    â€œSweetheart, you sound upset. Do you need me to come home?”
    â€œI’ll be all right. Maybe I’ll go over to Maria’s or something.”
    â€œJust be careful.” Her mom sighed. “Now you see why your dad and I are so concerned when you stay out late. Don’t be fooled. These days, just because it’s a suburban neighborhood doesn’t mean it’s safe.”
    â€œI know, Mom. Thanks. See you later.”
    â€œBye-bye.”
    Silence again.
    Where was Nat? Hateful as he was, at least he’d be another body in the house.
    Ugh. Bad choice of words.
    Kirsten began opening all the windows she could. The wind was raw with a hint of winter, but it swept away the musty air.
    And it cleared the cobwebs from Kirsten’s mind, which began working like crazy.
    Maybe Rob did see Gwen. Maybe he saw her drive up in the car and waited for her. He assumed she’d stop. Then, at the last minute, she sped up and nailed him.
    But why would she have stuck around the scene of the