Need

  He can always change his mind. Can’t he? And if he does, he’ll have the gun for protection. He thinks about the blood in the photograph. Real. Totally real. There is a good chance that someone he knows did that. What will happen if that same person is sent here to his house and he doesn’t have a means of defending himself and his family?

  Somewhere inside, he knows he should tell his parents. But to do that he will have to confess to his part in Amanda’s death. They might not believe he didn’t intend to kill her. They’ll hate him. They’ll call the police. He’ll be arrested and everyone will know.

  He can’t let them know. Because once they know what he’s done they’ll hate him just as much as he hates himself. And living with that will be worse than living with Amanda’s death.

  “Bryan, honey?” The door opens. He closes the laptop lid as his mother enters. She gives him one of those smiles that are designed to cover her worry. “I just wanted to see how you’re doing. You know . . . after this morning.”

  When she came to tell him breakfast was ready, she found him looking at the messages on Amanda’s Facebook page. He told her that Amanda had died and his mother held him while he cried. He’d thought about telling her more, but he chickened out. He can’t tell her now, either. He is such a coward.

  “I’m still trying to accept what happened.”

  His mom walks over and puts her hands on his shoulders. “Amanda’s death is a shock to the whole town. You don’t get over those kinds of things right away. Especially not when the person matters to you.”

  She did matter. It was because she did that he’s willing to do what he’s now been asked to do.

  His mom presses a kiss to the top of his head and gives his shoulders a squeeze. “We’re downstairs if you need us. Just remember, something like this takes time to deal with. Give yourself time.”

  “How much time?” Bryan asks. Because he can’t imagine a time when the heavy darkness will lift.

  His mom brushes her hand against his cheek. “It’s different for everyone. But when you’re sad and the walls feel like they’re closing in, I want you to remember that the only way to get out of the tunnel is through it. You’ll get through this, Bryan.” And with a quiet “I love you” and a reminder that he’s welcome to join his family downstairs, she slips into the hall and closes the door behind her.

  Bryan’s heart pounds loudly as he replays in his mind the events of the last twenty-four hours and the words his mother just spoke. To get to the end of this tunnel, he has to go through it. Which means there is only one path for him to take.

  Slowly, Bryan reopens the lid of his laptop, types in his password, and rereads the instructions. He makes several phone calls to friends to gather some information. And he realizes that while being a nerd has made him a social outcast, it now will be an advantage. No one will anticipate what he’s about to do.

  NETWORK MEMBERS—688

  NEEDS PENDING—684

  NEEDS FULFILLED—210

  Kaylee

  I CLUTCH MY PHONE as I say goodbye to my brother, who is both excited to be visiting Aunt Susan and bummed that I’m not going too. The moment he told my mother he wouldn’t leave if I didn’t come almost broke me in two. And because I love him more than anything, I said Nate would keep me company until they returned. But I try to catch my mother’s eye because I want to talk to her without DJ knowing. I have to.

  “But what if the person who dug the hole in the snow comes back while we’re gone?” DJ asks, picking up his duffel bag.

  “They’re not going to,” I say, trying to sound more sure than I feel. Because they might and I don’t want to be here if that happens.

  “Don’t worry, honey,” my mother says, handing my brother his coat. “I’ll be texting Kaylee every hour to make sure she’s okay. And you can text her too, if it makes you feel better. Deal?”

  He thinks about it and then smiles. “Deal.”

  Mom grabs her coat and tells DJ to get in the car. He lets me hug him before disappearing outside. When the door closes behind him, I say, “Mom, please let me come with you. I promise I won’t cause trouble or say anything that will upset DJ, but—”

  “We talked about this, Kaylee. You said you’d stay here.”

  “But something has happened since then. The website . . . If you’ll just wait for one minute I can prove that I’m telling the truth. Just one minute. Please.” I don’t wait for her to agree. I race up the stairs and grab my laptop, hoping that Nate isn’t wrong and that the website is back up. Or . . .

  “Kaylee, we’re going. You can show me tomorrow,” she yells as I race down the hall and the stairs. I hear a door slam.

  “Mom. Wait! Please.” I hear the garage door open, and in another moment the car engine is running. They’re about to leave.

  I race to the front door and jerk it open, still holding my laptop, as my mom backs the car out of the garage. As I start to yell for her not to go, DJ rolls down his window and waves. “Don’t forget to text me!”

  I look at his face and the words of protest die on my lips. DJ is what matters.

  “I won’t,” I say, forcing myself to lift my free arm and wave.

  “Say hi to Nate for me,” DJ yells as the car disappears down the street. I walk back into the house, go to my room, and put the laptop back on the desk. I want to feel safe. It’s been forever since I felt safe. Whatever medication or treatment Dr. Jain might want to prescribe won’t help with that, but getting rid of NEED will at least be a start. Because if I don’t expose NEED and what it is doing to this town, my mother will always think I was lying and I might never feel safe again. It’s the only way.

  I mistype my password three times before slowing down enough to log on. The email Nate told me about sits in my inbox. No. There are two. The first message, with the new link to NEED, was sent to everyone on the network. The second . . . is only for me.

  DEAR KAYLEE,

  WE HAVE BECOME AWARE THAT YOU HAVE VIOLATED PART THREE OF THE TERMS AND CONDITIONS OF YOUR NEED MEMBERSHIP. YOUR CALL TO THE NOTTAWA POLICE DEPARTMENT THIS MORNING AND YOUR DISCUSSION OF THE WEBSITE WITH NONMEMBERS IS UNACCEPTABLE AND MAKES YOU SUBJECT TO TERMINATION, IN REGARD BOTH TO YOUR MEMBERSHIP AND TO PENDING NEED REQUESTS. HOWEVER, SINCE YOUR NEED REQUEST IS CURRENTLY IN THE PROCESS OF BEING FULFILLED AND THERE IS NO CERTAIN METHOD OF TERMINATING THAT FULFILLMENT, WE ARE NOT GOING TO CANCEL YOUR MEMBERSHIP AT THIS TIME. BUT WE ARE WATCHING. ANOTHER VIOLATION OF THE MEMBERSHIP TERMS AND CONDITIONS WILL RESULT IN REMOVING THE ABILITY TO VIOLATE THAT AGREEMENT—PERMANENTLY.

  WE HOPE YOU WILL NOT GIVE US CAUSE TO ENFORCE THIS PENALTY. IT IS NOT WHAT WE WANT. HOWEVER, AS WE ALL KNOW, THERE IS A DIFFERENCE BETWEEN A WANT AND A NEED.

  REGARDS,

  THE NEED TEAM

  Shivering, I wrap my arms around myself and read the words again. Even though I know what term it is that I violated, I click on the new NEED site link and search for the exact wording.

  3. WE RESPECT YOUR RIGHT TO ANONYMITY AND WE EXPECT YOU TO DO THE SAME FOR US AND OTHERS.

  YOU WILL NOT POST CONTENT OR TAKE ANY ACTION THAT LEADS TO YOUR OWN PROFILE IDENTIFICATION OR THE IDENTIFICATION OF ANOTHER’S PROFILE.

  ALL POSTS BECOME THE PROPERTY OF NEED AND CAN BE DELETED AT OUR DISCRETION.

  IF YOU VIOLATE THE ANONYMITY OF THIS SITE TO ANYONE WHO DOES NOT BELONG TO NEED, YOUR ACCOUNT IS SUBJECT TO TERMINATION.

  ANY REPORTS OF ANONYMITY VIOLATIONS OF AN INDIVIDUAL PROFILE OR THE SITE ITSELF WILL BE INVESTIGATED AND IMMEDIATE ACTION TAKEN.

  IF WE DISABLE YOUR PROFILE OR DEEM YOU IN VIOLATION OF THE ANONYMITY CLAUSE THERE IS NO APPEAL. ACCOUNTS ONCE TERMINATED ARE TERMINATED PERMANENTLY.

  Permanently.

  That word fills me with dread.

  I scroll up to the top of the Terms and Conditions and read all of them.

  Privacy is important to NEED. That is clear by the time I am done reading all ten sections. Not just privacy for users but for NEED itself. Equally clear is the message
that it owns all content. That rule is cloaked in nonthreatening terms, but if you read carefully, you can see that the network can lay claim to everything a user adds to the site. That is sinister enough, but the final term is the most telling.

  10. ALL USERS OF NEED ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR THEIR OWN ACTIONS. NEED FULFILLMENT REQUESTS ARE NOT MANDATORY. NO USER WILL BE COMPELLED TO PERFORM ANY ACT WITH WHICH THEY FEEL UNCOMFORTABLE. BY ACCEPTING MEMBERSHIP AND AGREEING TO THESE CONDITIONS, THE NEED USER ABSOLVES THE NEED NETWORK AND OPERATORS FROM ANY AND ALL RESPONSIBILITY FOR ACTIONS TAKEN OUTSIDE OF THE NEED NETWORK. THE ONLY PERSON RESPONSIBLE FOR YOUR ACTIONS IS YOU.

  When I created my account, I didn’t read the Terms and Conditions. I just clicked the button that said I accepted them. After all, aren’t they always the same? Does anyone ever read them? Clearly not, since all the people I go to school with joined this site. I have to wonder if they would have cared even if they had read the so-called fine print. With Nate pushing me to join and the anonymity the site dangled, I would have still accepted.

  I’m startled when my cell phone signals I have a text. Since my mother has only been gone for ten minutes, I assume it’s Nate telling me he’s going to be late. But the message is from a number I don’t recognize and when I read it, I know why.

  The Terms and Conditions are clear, Kaylee. We’ll be watching.

  “Hey.”

  I scream. I can’t help it. The sound rips from my throat and I push back my chair and spring to my feet even as I recognize the voice. Nate.

  “What the hell?” I yell. “Why didn’t you knock or ring the bell or something?”

  “Sorry,” Nate says, even though his smirk says he isn’t. “I tried the bell. It didn’t work, and I figured if you were up here you couldn’t hear me knocking, either. Since your message said DJ and your mom left and I knew you were around somewhere, I used the spare key. And I have to tell you, I’m glad I did. That scream was awesome. Better than any of the movies we’ve watched.”

  I’m being threatened by NEED and Nate is casting me as the girl who gets axed in a horror film. This is just perfect.

  “Hey.” Nate tucks his hands in his jacket pockets and his smile fades. “I really am sorry I freaked you out. I should have texted you to let you know I was here. I wasn’t thinking. Are you okay? Did something else happen? Is someone else . . . hurt?”

  “No.” At least, I don’t think so. I could be wrong, though. Something scary might just have been posted on NEED’s message board. “But there’s this.”

  I pull up the email and then shift to the side so Nate can sit down and read it. When he’s done, I hand him my phone with the text message.

  “This is whacked. DJ and your mother left town, didn’t they?”

  I nod, not admitting that staying wasn’t my choice.

  “Well then, there’s nothing that NEED can do to them now. That’s one less thing to worry about.”

  “Maybe.” I want to believe that my not being with them will keep DJ safe. Otherwise, I’ve been abandoned for no reason.

  “You’re still worried about DJ?”

  “Wouldn’t you be if he were your brother?”

  “If Jack was in danger of getting roughed up I’d make popcorn and ask for a front-row seat. Or maybe not.” Nate pulls off his knitted hat and throws it on my bed. “Jack wasn’t his normal, arrogant self today. He even apologized after bumping into me as I was leaving to come here. Something must have gotten into him.”

  “Something like NEED?” I ask. “Do you think the site asked him to do something he’s not comfortable with?”

  Nate laughs. “It would take a lot to make my brother uncomfortable.”

  “Like what?”

  The amusement fades. “Jack isn’t all that concerned about other people’s feelings. Not when they get in the way of something he wants. It would have to be something pretty major to make him act squirrelly.”

  I think of the cookies that killed Amanda. Did the person who put them at her door know how deadly the gift was? I doubt it. Nate’s right. His brother gets off on being a big shot and making other people feel small. If he’s having second thoughts about the fulfillment request he was given . . .

  “I should call Officer Shepens again.”

  “Do you think he’ll listen to you? This morning didn’t exactly go well. And now you know NEED really is watching. You don’t want to do something to tick them off if you aren’t certain the cops are going to help.”

  “The site is up and running again.”

  “And who knows how long that will last. It went down once already. The last thing you want is to call Officer Shepens and have the site go down again. You need to have some way of proving what NEED is doing, and I have an idea.” Nate shrugs out of his coat. “Do you mind if I use your laptop for a sec?”

  I get out of the way as Nate slides behind the keyboard.

  Clicking from one screen to the next, he explains, “Jack is being weird and the chances are good that he’s been given a NEED fulfillment request he’s not wild about. If we can find out what that request is and report it, Officer Shepens can monitor my brother and catch him in the act. We’ll be able to expose NEED, bust my brother, and prove that we’re telling the truth all in one fell swoop. And since I used my brother’s account to send myself an invite, I know his profile code. He uses the same password for everything he does online. I’ll just log on as Jack, go to his profile page, and . . . What the hell is this?”

  A message box with red block writing appears on the screen.

  THE ACCOUNT YOU ARE ATTEMPTING TO LOG ON TO IS NOT AUTHORIZED FOR THIS IP ADDRESS. TO ACCESS NEED, USE THE VALID ACCOUNT INFORMATION THAT WAS CREATED ON THIS COMPUTER. IF YOU FEEL YOU HAVE RECEIVED THIS MESSAGE IN ERROR, CONTACT THE NEED TEAM AND WE WILL ATTEMPT TO ASSIST YOU.

  “I don’t get it.” Nate closes the message box and returns to the Login screen. Less than a minute later the same error message is displayed and Nate turns to face me. “I just tried to log on to my account but it won’t let me. I was able to get into my account from this computer before. They must have updated the system when it was down earlier.”

  “Why?” I read the message again, wishing I knew computers better. Mostly, I use them to surf the Internet, do my homework, and answer email. “IP address. That’s like a serial number or something?”

  “Sort of,” Nate says as he pulls out his phone and taps on the screen. “Except a serial number is just for ID purposes. Depending on what kind it is, it can identify the owner or where the computer was manufactured, but that’s about it. An IP address not only gives information about what kind of machine it is, but when you’re on the Web, people can use an IP to track the computer to its physical address. Oh hell. Look.” He holds out his phone so I can see the same message from my monitor displayed on the small screen. “I can’t log on to NEED from my phone. It looks like they’ve updated the system to only allow users to connect from the device the account was created on. That’s just weird. Most social media sites want users to be able to access their account and post from any location. That’s how NEED operated before.”

  But no longer. Maybe because NEED isn’t about social interaction. At least, not the kind we’re used to. It’s about something different. I don’t know what that is, but whatever its purpose, I’m pretty sure the change in login and the new inability to see other users’ profiles is a way to hide whatever is coming.

  “Can you move for a minute?” I ask. “I want to log back on to my account.”

  Letting out a frustrated sigh, Nate pushes back the chair and stands, giving me room to sit. I type my account information and password. When the NEED screen appears, I scroll down the message board, looking for anything that might give a clue as to what’s going on.

  The picture of the bakery box on Amanda’s front step is missing. So is the one of our front yard. But there are others. Photographs of a broken mailbox, a snow-covered shed, and a car tire that is well and truly flat. Each photograph must r
epresent some act that a NEED member performed, but it’s impossible to say what effects the acts might have had or who was behind them, so I keep scrolling until I suddenly stop.

  Blood.

  “That can’t possibly be real?” Nate asks, leaning over my shoulder. “Can it?”

  “I don’t know.” I don’t want to know. My stomach heaves. “You’re the horror movie expert, Nate. What do you think?” Does the blood-soaked snow look too red to be real? Do the bits of flesh and bone and fur (Is that brown fur?) look like something a person could pick up in a store?

  “It has to be fake.” But he doesn’t sound so sure.

  “Why?” I swivel my chair and turn my back on the screen.

  “Because it’s the only thing that makes sense. The whole point of creating these kinds of sites is to cash in. Start small. Build a big network and then sell advertising and harvested data you collect from all the users who are posting cat pictures and relationship crap.”

  Nate would know. He spends way more time than I do on social networking sites. For me, they’re tools. A method for me to try to track down my father and a way to remind people that DJ needs help. Not that either has really worked. But it’s better than doing nothing. Nate, however, loves watching how the people we know behave online. He says it’s the only way to see someone’s true nature. It’s a fairly simple choice to be nice to someone who’s right in front of you. After all, as Nate says, why risk a punch in the face if you don’t have to? But online there’s an invisible shield that Nate claims allows people to feel protected from the consequences of their actions. Because of that, they stop behaving like they are supposed to and instead do what they want. No matter who they upset or hurt.

  “What’s your point?” I ask as Nate’s eyes remain latched on the grisly photograph with a strange intensity.