Promise You Won't Tell? (8 page)

That’s him, reminding me she’s a minor. I didn’t get a chance to give Ethan a smart-ass reply earlier, so I’d like to make one now, to the Underhill’s attorney.

But why bother?

After all, by setting up a meeting at his office with his clients, Mr. Roemer’s playing right into my hands.

When Rick opens the door and sees Dillon standing beside me, his face drops.

It drops even further when he hears I want Dillon to access his computer.

“My parents aren’t here,” he says.

“In that case, there’s no one to interrupt us,” I say.

Dillon sits at Rick’s desk, makes a derogatory remark about the archaic keyboard, then starts clicking keys. Watching Dillon at work is like watching a master. Within seconds, his fingers are a blur. Ramsey Lewis couldn’t do better work with a keyboard.

It takes him two minutes to find out the “friend” who forwarded Riley’s photo is Nathan Cain, the guy Rick supposedly overheard in the lunch room.

“I can explain,” Rick says.

“Let’s talk in the hall,” I say, knowing Dillon can work more effectively if Rick isn’t looking over his shoulder.

He glances nervously at Dillon, who takes the cue and gets up from Rick’s computer, crosses the room, sits on the side of Rick’s bed, as if planning to wait there till we return.

I secretly press a button on the cell phone in my jeans pocket while escorting Rick out of the room. Then raise it an inch out of my pocket so the speaker can pick up our conversation. This way Dillon can hear everything Rick and I say, and Rick won’t hear Dillon typing on his keyboard.

“Tell me about Nathan,” I say, leading Rick down the hall.

“He’s not really my friend,” Rick says. “I exaggerated that part.”

“You said he wasn’t involved.”

“That’s what he told me.”

“Then how could he send you the picture?”

“Nathan said Ethan and Ronnie took nude pictures of Riley with their cell phones. That night in the car, the guys believed them. But by Monday everyone doubted their story. So Ethan and Ronnie texted some of the photos to their closest friends and told them to keep it quiet. But who could keep that type of secret? It became a status symbol to have the pictures, so I begged Nathan to send me one.”

“And he did.”

“Yeah, but it cost me fifty bucks. And, he sent me the one where she was dressed.”

“I don’t believe this!” I say.

“What?”

“You paid him for a photo
after
I talked to you.”

He looks down at the floor. Then says, “Like I said, it turned into a status symbol.”

“And you’d do anything to fit in.”

“Don’t judge me. You don’t know what it’s like.”

“If
you’ve
got a photo, the pictures must be all over the school by now.”

“That’s a cruel thing to say.”

“Whine all you like. I’m disappointed in you, Rick.”

“Of
course
you are. Why
wouldn’t
you be? I’m a loser. Ask anyone.”

“Don’t lay that on me. It’s a copout.”

“What do you mean?”

“If you’re a loser it’s because you’re acting like one. Get a grip. You want to change your status? Change your behavior.”

A sound comes from my cell phone. It’s Dillon, shouting, “Eureka!”

Rick and I go back to his room.

“You found the pictures?” I say.

“No, but they’re being sent even as we speak,” Dillon says.

“Explain.”

“When I heard Rick say he paid Nathan fifty bucks for a photo, I live-chatted with Nathan. He’s sending me the rest of the pictures.”

Rick says, “Why would he send them to
you
?”

“I used your email account. He thought he was talking to you.”

“Why would he send
me
the photos?”

“You offered to pay him a thousand dollars for them.”

“
What
? I don’t have that kind of money!”

“Then I guess you’re screwed.”

Rick looks at his computer screen, terrified and excited at the same time.

“Don’t look here for them,” Dillon says. “They’re being sent to a disposable phone.”

“I don’t even know what that means,” Rick says.

Dillon places a cheap cell phone next to the one he was using to take my call. “These are pre-paid cell phones,” Dillon says. “They’re anonymous.”

He points to the second one. “I gave Nathan
this
number and told him it was yours. Except I don’t know what’s taking so long.”

Rick says, “Dani, I don’t
have
a thousand bucks! What am I gonna do when Nathan asks for the money? He’s gonna
kill
me!”

I say, “Buy some time. Tell him you can’t go to the bank till Friday to get the cash. By Friday, getting paid will be the last thing on Nathan’s mind.”

“What do you mean?”

“When he sends those photos, he’ll be trafficking underage porn.”

We stand around, twiddling our thumbs for five minutes.

“Something’s wrong,” Dillon says. “I can feel it.”

He punches out a text message, presses the “send” button, and says, “I just asked him to hurry up.”

Another five minutes pass, then the phone vibrates.

“Finally!” I say.

He picks the phone up, checks the screen, says, “Shit.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Someone got to him.”

“What do you mean?”

“Nathan just sent a message. Said there
are
no other pictures of Riley.”

“Read me his exact words.”

Dillon reads, “There are no other pictures, asshole. I was joking.”

I shake my head.

“You’re right,” I say. “Ethan called him. I shouldn’t have confronted him. I tipped my hand.”

“Not your fault,” Dillon says. “You didn’t know about the pictures when you talked to him.”

I give Rick a withering look. “If you would have told me about the pictures yesterday, I could have used that to our advantage.”

“We still can,” Dillon says. “It’s just that we won’t have the element of surprise.”

“How?”

“If they were ever taken on a cell phone, we can find them. Eventually.”

It’s dark when I park in Sophie’s driveway.

I’ve got a key to the front door, but I’m so busy digging it out of my handbag it doesn’t dawn on me that most of the lights in the house are off.

Until I’m inside, with the door closed behind me.

By then it’s too late.

The muffled noise and simultaneous pain in my side help me realize I’ve just been shot. I cry out, but before I can react, I’m hit two more times.

Shoulder and stomach.

My knees buckle. I fall to the floor in slow motion, and land in a sitting position. Gravity slowly takes over, forces me onto my back.

In the darkness I hear Sophie say, “You’re still breathing, bitch. I can hear you. But that won’t last for long.”

She gloats, “I can’t believe how
easy
this was! I don’t mean pulling the trigger. I mean, you just walked right in, stood there like a deer in the headlights. I could have put one between your eyes, ended it once and for all. But this is better. So much better.”

I turn my head in the direction of her voice, but don’t see her.

She says, “I’m going to stand over you and watch you bleed out. When the light comes on, if you’re able to turn your head upward, you’ll see I’m completely naked. Want to know why, bitch? It keeps the blood evidence off my clothes. While you’re lying there helplessly, struggling to gasp your final breaths, I’ll be smearing your blood all over my body. I’m going to bathe myself with your hot, bitch blood.”

I concentrate all my power into forming a sentence. “You’re…completely insane. You’ll never…get away…with it.”

“I could kill you now, bitch. You know it’s true. I have all the power. Say it! Tell me I have all the power.”

I say nothing.

“
Say it
!” she screams, “or I swear I’ll shoot you right now!”

The light comes on and I see Sophie standing over me, naked, holding a gun.

A nerf gun.

We both pause a moment, then laugh hysterically.

“
Hot, bitch blood
?” I say.

She laughs, shoots me in the arm.

“Was ‘hot, bitch blood’ too over the top?” she says.

“A bit. Maybe.”

We laugh some more.

I say, “What possessed you to get naked and attack me with a toy gun?”

“You’ve been preoccupied like crazy. I wanted to get your attention.”

“It worked.”

“So,” she says. “You want to fool around?”

“I’m not gay, Sophie.”

“Who said you were?”

She places her hand between my legs, rubs my sweet spot.

I feel my body surrender. She straddles me, unbuttons my shirt. Cups my breast. Lowers her face till our lips are inches apart. I lift my chin to accept her kiss.

We pause to take a breath and I say, “I just wanted to be clear.”

“About not being gay?”

“Yes.”

I put my arms around her, caress her lower back with my fingertips.

We kiss again.

She says, “Noted.”

Thursday.
Dillon’s call wakes me up at two a.m.

“Are you serious, Dillon? What could you possibly want at this hour?”

“We’ve got a problem.”

I wipe the sleep from my eyes. “What?”

“I got a beep on my tracking program.”

“At two in the morning?”

“It’s Jana Bagger.”

“What about her?”

“Her car just stopped at Fourteen Twenty-Six Riverside.”

“Why does that address sound familiar?”

“It’s her husband’s other house. The one he shares with Darcie Darden.”

“Shit!”

“Should I call the cops?”

“No.”

“Because?”

“Because what if she kills someone and they find the tracking device you put in her car?”

“That would be bad, I suppose.”

“Really? Ya think?”

“What should we do?”

I waste several precious seconds, trying to think it through. Then say, “You’ve still got Max’s car bugged, right?”

“Uh huh.”

“Is he there?”

“Yup.”

“Shit.”

“You said that.”

“I’ll say it again, I expect.”

“Maybe she’s doing her own surveillance,” Dillon says.

“Or maybe she’s waiting for him to come out so she can shoot him.”

“We need to get the tracking devices from their cars,” Dillon says.

“I agree. What are you, fifteen minutes from Darcie’s?”

“Yeah, probably.”

“I can be there in twenty.”

“Want me to meet you out front?”

“No. We should arrive together. Park your car two blocks before you get to Darcie’s. I’ll look for you.”

“There’s a convenience store just off the interstate, right-hand side.”

“Okay, I’ll meet you there.

“Dani?”

“Yeah?”

“Bring your gun this time, okay?”

“I can’t.”

He sighs. “Why not?”

“It’s in my desk drawer. At the office.”

“Shit.”

“That’s my line.”