Call Me! (22 page)

FRIDAY MORNING

I WAKE TO the scent of freshly-roasted coffee and wonder if I’m dreaming. Then remember where I am, and what happened yesterday. I take a quick shower, towel-dry my hair, wrap myself in a white, terrycloth robe and pad downstairs.

“Hey, sleepyhead,” Sophie says. “I’m so glad you were able to sleep in.”

I yawn and look at the clock.

7:15 a.m. And I’m already showered.

“You call this sleeping in?”

“For you? Today? Yeah, Dani!”

She points to the morning paper on the counter.

“Already?” I say.

“Front page.”

I hold out a mug, Sophie fills it.

“And on TV?”

She shakes her head. “You don’t want to know.”

I smile. “How bad can it be?”

“They found out you’ve been trying to find
ManChild
.”

I do a double-take. You may not believe this, given my reaction to recent events, but I’m probably the least moody or bad-tempered person you know. But this announcement takes me from zero to furious in one second flat. I feel the red creeping into my cheeks. This is as pissed as I get. I’m so angry I can’t speak.

“I’m sorry, Dani,” Sophie says. “I wish it weren’t true.”

“Do they have any idea what they’ve
done
?” I shout. “Now he’ll
never
get caught!”

She brings some fresh cut pineapple to the table, and a little box of toothpicks. I’m still furious, but the scent of her coffee is heavenly, and I do love my fresh pineapple in the morning. She sits quietly till I sip some coffee.

“It’s good, Sofe.”

She reaches across the small wooden table that cost tons of money to craft into what appears to be an authentic early American antique, and puts her hand on my mine.

I put my other hand over hers and look into her eyes and say, “Now he knows I’m after him. He’ll be on his guard. He’s going to kill more children.”

“Actually, on TV they’re saying just the opposite.”

“What do you mean?”

“People love you, Dani. You have no idea how much! They said more than a dozen private detectives from all over the country have already called in to radio and TV stations to offer their services, free of charge. They want to find the bastard and put him away as a favor to you. They’re challenging PI’s all over the country to pitch in and help you get this guy.”

“People
love
me? What are you talking about? They don’t love me. They just want to hear the details about what Colin Tyler Hicks and I did to each other in that basement.”

“Honey,” she says, “nine years ago it was about the crime. This time it’s about you.”

“I have no idea what that means.”

“Last time you were their victim. This time you’re their hero.”

“I don’t want to be a hero, Sofe, I just want a normal life and a chance to catch
ManChild
.”

“Dani, this could be huge! Not twenty minutes ago
The Today Show
said, and I quote, ‘Dani Ripper, the little girl who got away, is once again the most famous face in America.’”

“How do they know what I look like?”

“They’re posting pictures.”

“Recent photos?”

“Yup.”

“Where did they get them?”

“From your business manager.”

“My
what
? I don’t have a business manager! Who’s making
that
claim?”

“The vodka bottle.”

“The…
Ben
?”

“Yes. The Ben.”

“BEN WOULDN’T DO that!”

Sophie gives me a look that embodies all the things I love about her. In the space of a few seconds I see sadness, sympathy, compassion, and best of all, understanding—in her face and eyes. Then she says, “I’m sorry, Dani. But Ben’s trying to cash in.”

I stare off into space a full minute before turning back to her. When I do, I fix my eyes on hers and say, “You’re insulting my husband. And when you do that, you’re insulting me.”

She nods.

Without taking my eyes off hers I say, “I think you owe me an apology.”

She bites her lip.

“Ben would never,
ever
do that,” I say.

She holds my gaze, but doesn’t apologize.

As the tears well in my eyes, I stand and say, “I’m going to remove all my things from your house now.”

I start walking out of the kitchen, but Sophie says something that stops me in my tracks.

“Ben made a public announcement this morning.”

I turn back to face her. “If you want us to remain friends, tell me only what you know to be true. If Ben were talking about you, I’d make him do the same.”

She gets to her feet and walks toward me, but stops when we’re three feet apart. Her cheeks are streaked with tears.

I say, “You’re crying worse than I am.”

“That’s because I love you more. It’s moments like these when I realize just how much I adore you. You’re the most loyal person in the world. It warms my heart to see you standing up for Ben like this, even as it crushes me to tell you what he’s done.”

“What’s he done?”

“He announced he’s accepting bids from publishers for his book.”

“What book?”

“
Mindy and Me
. The true story of what happened to Mindy Renee Whittaker.”

“WHAT HAPPENED?” I say.

I’m on the floor in Sophie’s hallway, with a pillow under my head. She’s lying beside me. I notice a pillow under her head, too. There’s also a blanket over us.

“You passed out,” she says. “I tried to catch you, but you took me down with you. You woke up instantly, and said you wanted to stay on the floor. So I got up, got the pillows and blanket.”

“Why the blanket?”

She pauses.

I look at her.

“You’re blushing,” I say.

“Well…you only had the robe on, and…”

I lift the blanket high enough to peek under it.

“How much did you see?”

“Not everything.”

“No?”

“Your shoulders and arms were covered.”

“Ah.”

“You don’t seem to remember the whole pillows and blanket thing,” Sophie says. “Are you okay?”

“I think so. How long have I been lying here?”

“You don’t know? I mean, we’ve been
talking
to each other.”

My expression tells her I don’t have a clue.

“We’ve been like this for nearly an hour. You’ve been crying, and staring into space. I’ve talked to you, stroked your hair, and you kept telling me to let you lie here.”

We lie silently a few more minutes. Then I say, “I suppose you have proof about Ben writing the book?”

“I saw the interview where he said it. I’m sure we can find it on the internet.”

“Sofe?”

“Yeah honey?”

“Help me up?”

“I’d be glad to.”

She does.

“Are you dizzy?”

“Not at all. Why, did I hit my head?”

“No. You sort of fell on me.”

“Did you hit
your
head?”

She smiles, takes my left hand in hers, and places it on the back of her head so I can feel the lump.

“Sofe! I’m so sorry! You’re okay?”

“I’m fine.”

We’re a foot apart, eyes locked. Mine are blue, hers, brown. I’m blonde, she’s brunette. Our heights are so closely matched you’d need a carpenter’s level to see who’s taller. But I’m high-waisted, so my legs are slightly longer. We’re both petite. She’s got boobs and hips, I’m more athletic in shape. I’m twenty-four, she’s twenty-nine.

In other words, we’re identical. And perfect together.

I keep my left hand on the back of her head, and touch the palm of my right hand to her cheek. And there, in the hallway between Sophie Alexander’s kitchen and den, at precisely 8:18 a.m. on the morning my world has imploded, I close my eyes and kiss my best friend full on the lips, hear her joyful murmur, accept her tongue, share mine, and finally, pull away.

“Holy
shit
!” Sophie says, moving in for another.

I hold her away with a reluctant hand. Then give her a quick kiss and say, “I’m still married, Sofe.”

“As married as you are straight?”

“Probably.”

“And I suppose you’ll want to check your computer about Ben’s book.”

“Yes.”

She sighs. “Want to take some pineapple upstairs with you?”

“Depends on what
you’re
going to do.”

“If I were a guy I’d take a cold shower! Since I’m not, I plan to get comfy in the den, turn on the TV, and watch for breaking news about my best friend.”

“Can I bring my laptop down and surf the net while we watch TV together?”

“Are you going to wear your silly pajamas?”

“Can I?”

“I’d be disappointed if you didn’t.”