“Maybe he brought them in from the office,” Whit said.
“I don’t think so,” I said. My flashlight beam swept the walls and stopped on two large storage cabinets mounted high up. We found a ladder, and I climbed up and looked. At first it appeared that the cabinets were filled with backdrops and rolls of colored paper. I was about to give up when something told me to shove things out of the way and see what was behind them.
Bingo! In the back of the cabinets were cardboard boxes. When I opened one, I found files inside it. There were half a dozen boxes, and I started handing them down to Whit.
A few moments later we were sitting on the studio floor, reading files with our flashlights. Unlike the disorganized mess in the office, these files were orderly. The first three boxes were filled with purchase orders for head shots and makeup and other fees. There were hundreds of them, almost all for jobs in small cities in a radius of about a hundred miles from Soundview—Hartford, Springfield, Albany, Binghamton, Allentown, Wilmington, Trenton, and more. All of them girls who’d placed their dreams in my father’s hands.
It was disheartening. Not just because of the money Dad had taken from them, but the dreams he’d stolen and false hopes he’d perpetrated. And the dishonesty bordering on outright theft. Pulling up purchase order after purchase order, I couldn’t help wondering if the whole thing hadn’t been one big scam from start to finish.
My BlackBerry vibrated. It was Mom, probably calling to say there was school tomorrow and she wanted me home. I didn’t answer. Hardly a minute passed before a text arrived, this time from Roman: WRU?
I texted back: Cnt Tlk, and continued looking at the files. Whit stood up. “Just gonna get some more ice,” he said, and left the studio.
I finished one box and started the next, expecting to find more purchase orders. But this one contained a few dozen head shots. Why, I wondered as I pulled up photo after photo, were these head shots here instead of in the files in Janet’s office with all the others? It seemed odd until I glanced at one, started to move to the next, then froze.
I went back and looked again.
Ashley Walsh…
“Oh my God,” I muttered.
“You find something?” Whit asked as he returned holding a new bag of ice to the back of his head.
“Uh, no, something else. I mean, nothing. Not important. Sorry.”
Whit scowled at me, but I started thumbing through the files again, pretending everything was fine. Meanwhile, my thoughts were churning. So it wasn’t just girls who lived a hundred miles away. They could live right here in town. Besides Ashley, how many more were from Soundview High?
My BlackBerry vibrated again. It was Mom, and I knew without answering that she wanted me home. I turned to Whit. “I have to go.”
“It’s okay.” He turned back to the files.
“You have to go, too.”
He frowned. “Why?”
“You can’t be here without me.”
A surprised blink. “You…don’t trust me?”
“It’s not that. It’s just that if it wasn’t for me, you wouldn’t be here right now. I feel responsible.” I girded myself for the argument I expected from him about how important it would be to my father that we keep looking for information about Jane/Janet. So I was surprised when Whit said, “Okay.”
When we left, I made sure the back studio door was firmly locked. A chilly breeze swirled around the parking lot, and I hugged myself to stay warm. Whit and I faced each other in the dark.
“How’s your head?” I asked.
He touched the back of his skull and winced. “Pretty tender. But it’ll be okay. A couple of Tylenols, and I should be able to sleep.”
I glanced at the back door. “I thought you were going to argue about having to leave.”
“I was tempted, but I understand where you’re coming from. It’s your dad’s place, and you don’t want strangers going through his things.”
I felt a scowl cross my face. Whit saw it and asked, “What?”
“It’s funny. I mean, I hardly know you, but you don’t feel like a stranger.”
He tilted his head curiously, but in the dark, it was difficult to read his expression. Even more puzzling to me was why I felt that way.
Suddenly, a pair of headlights swung into the parking lot.
Whit and I were illuminated.
And blinded.
Our only escape route blocked.
Chapter 26
THE CAR’S DOR swung open, and someone got out. Still blinded by the headlights, I couldn’t see who it was. My heart thudded hard in my chest.
“Hey.” The voice was friendly and unexpectedly familiar.
“Romy?” I shielded my eyes against the glare and felt lightheaded with relief. “Turn off the lights. You’re blinding us.”
“Oh, sorry.” She reached into the car and cut the headlights.
It took a moment to readjust to the dark. “What are you doing here?”
“Your mother called,” Roman said. “You told her you were going to my house, so I didn’t know what to say, and then she pretty much knew anyway that you weren’t there.”
There was something odd about the way she was speaking and how she kept glancing at Whit.
“So…you decided to come look for me?” I asked.
“First I texted you, but you texted back you couldn’t talk, and
then I got worried that maybe you were in some kind of trouble.”
“How did you know I was here?” I asked.
“Just a lucky guess. Like, where else would you be?” Roman said.
I found that hard to believe. Meanwhile, she kept glancing at Whit, so I introduced them.
“I’ve read your stories in the Snoop,” Roman said. “They’re really good.”
Whit thanked her, and she turned to me again. “So what’s going on? What’re you doing here?”
I didn’t know how to answer. Besides, I’d just realized something. There was one sure way she could have known Whit and I were here—if she’d been here first. Had she been the one who’d slid the plastic into the doorjamb, hit Whit over the head, and run out? What better way to divert suspicion than to return and act like she didn’t know what was going on?
Or had she been looking for something in the office and now come back to see if we’d found it?
Or was I just being completely over-the-top paranoid? After all, she was my best friend.
Roman was still waiting for an answer when Whit spoke up. “I asked her to bring me here. After writing all these stories about her dad, I really wanted to see the place.”
“Uh-huh.” From the way Roman nodded, I knew she didn’t believe that. But maybe it didn’t matter.
“I better get going before my mom sends the police to find me,” I said.
I got into my car feeling wound up and tense about Roman being there and about going home and facing Mom, who would demand to know why I’d lied to her and where I’d really been. I’d barely gotten out of the studio parking lot before my BlackBerry rang. It was Roman, calling from her car.
“What was that about?” she asked.
“How did you know we were there?” I asked back.
“I asked my question first,” she said.
At that point I didn’t care who’d asked first. I was feeling seriously stressed and suspicious. Roman was my best friend. If I couldn’t trust her, then who could I trust? “I’m serious. How did you know?”
“I told you, it was a lucky guess, pure and simple. Where else would you have been?”
“I can think of a hundred places.”
“Well, I don’t have your imagination. So what’s the story?”
“Why do you want to know?”
“I thought we were best friends,” she said.
“And you’ve never kept a secret from me?”
“What’s that got to do…,” she began to ask, then realized.
“Oh, so that’s the deal? I must have kept secrets from you,
so it’s okay for you to keep this secret from me?”
I didn’t answer.
“Since when don’t we trust each other?” she asked.
Was she right? Was I being crazy paranoid? She couldn’t possibly have anything to do with those missing girls, could she? And yet, I still didn’t understand how she could have known that Whit and I were at the studio just now. Could it really have been as simple as a lucky guess?
“I’m almost home,” I lied. “I have to go in and face Mom. We’ll talk about this later.”
A few moments later I pulled into the driveway but didn’t get out right away. I was scared. I wished I could tell Mom the truth, but Whit had made me swear that I’d keep the Janet thing a secret.
I couldn’t sit in the car forever, putting off the inevitable, so I took a deep breath and got out. As I walked to the front door, I expected that Mom would be waiting in the living room.
What I didn’t expect was for Dad to be waiting there, too.
Chapter 27
MOM WAS SITTING on the couch. Dad was in an easy chair on the other side of the coffee table. As I closed the door behind me, he lowered a copy of the newspaper. I imagined their sitting in complete silence with Dad reading the paper while they waited for me.
“I called Roman’s house,” Mom began.
“I know,” I said. “She told me.”
“So…?”
“I…was with a guy.”
From the surprise on their faces, I knew immediately that my answer had worked.
“Really?” Dad’s eyebrows rose with interest. “Someone from school?”
“He goes to Sarah Lawrence,” I said.
Mom’s eyebrows dipped uncertainly. “How did you meet him?”
“The day I went for my interview.”
“No kidding?” Dad seemed happy for me. How could this be the same man who stole from all those girls? I wondered.
It wasn’t in my nature to spin lies, but I knew that Mom would want to know more. “I asked him for directions…and he offered to show me the way and we started to talk.”
“Like an instant attraction?” Dad smiled brightly. Despite all the horrible things going on in his life, you could see that he still got a kick out of hearing how his daughter met a guy.
“Was this the first time you’ve seen him since then?” Mom asked.
“Oh no, I…we’ve seen each other a couple of times and talked a lot on the phone.” It was interesting how, except for the part about asking for directions, almost every answer I’d given had basically been true, and how easily the true answers had fit the questions.
But then Mom said, “And suddenly tonight you just had to see him?”
I felt my insides tighten. How would I answer that?
“Oh, come on, Ruth,” Dad said. “It’s young love. It’s passionate and impatient and impetuous.”
Mom’s eyes remained fixed on me as if she hadn’t heard a word he’d said.
“Do we get to meet him?” Dad asked.
“Uh…” I hesitated. Ironically, it was Dad who’d innocently asked the question that was hardest to answer. “Maybe someday. I mean, we’re not there yet, you know?”
Dad nodded and smiled. Mom just gazed silently at me as if trying to see through to the truth.
“Well, then, all right.” Dad stood up as if the matter had been settled. “I think we’ve gotten to the bottom of that. When you’re ready, Shels, I’d like to meet him.” He gave Mom a terse nod and left the living room.
Mom remained on the couch, waiting, it seemed to me, until Dad was out of earshot. Then, in a low voice, she said, “I read an interesting article once. It said that everyone believes that liars aren’t able to look you in the eye, so some liars go out of their way to look you in the eye to make you think they’re telling the truth.”
I kept my eyes on hers. Mom studied me silently. “You must stay out of this, Shelby. It’s dangerous. The girl they found in that cave near Scranton didn’t wind up there by accident. I know you want to protect your father, but you can’t do that without putting yourself at risk.”
Suddenly, I couldn’t meet her gaze anymore and stared down at the floor.
“Tell me you’ll stay out of it,” Mom said.
“I…will.”
“Promise me?” she said, getting up and coming toward me.
I looked up. “I said I will.”
Mom kissed me on the forehead, then nodded as if to say I could go. I went upstairs and slumped down in front of my computer. The memory of how I’d left things with Roman returned. I’d been unreasonably mistrustful and must have hurt her feelings. I was wondering if I should call and apologize when a text showed up… from Gabriel: Thx 4 inviting me 2 the party. W2 meet again? 121?
That caught me by surprise. I could only assume that the quick kiss I’d given him after the party, before we’d parted, had smoothed out the earlier rough spots. It was flattering to think that he still liked me, but then I thought about the warnings both Whit and Roman had given me about him. I was wondering about how to answer him when an e-mail popped up from
[email protected]: I like you, Shelby Sloan. If I have to kill you, I’ll kill you last.
Chapter 28
I ALMOST CRIED out. My hands gripped the edge of the desk, and my heart thudded heavily in my chest as I stared at the ominous words, reading them over and over.
Someone was actually threatening to kill me.
It took a while to begin to calm down and breathe normally again. They’re just words, I told myself. It could even be someone playing a sick joke. Besides, as long as I’m in my house, in my room, I’m safe.
I began to think about what the words meant. The person who sent the e-mail said he liked me. Could it really be someone I knew that well?
And what did “If I have to kill you” mean? Why would anyone have to kill me? It didn’t make sense…unless it was a warning.…That he would have to kill me if I didn’t stop looking into my father’s situation …
But why send the e-mail now? Why hadn’t he sent it a few days ago? And didn’t it imply that I was onto something? Clearly whoever sent it did so because he was feeling threatened by me.
So who knew that I was looking into Dad’s case? Whit and Roman…and the person who’d hit Whit on the head tonight.
I felt frightened, but also, strangely, encouraged. I must have been getting closer to the answer. But now what? The thought of telling my parents came and quickly passed. Telling Dad about the e-mail would make him freak out, and telling Mom would only confirm what she’d just finished saying in the living room—that if I continued to snoop around, I was in danger of becoming a target myself. It would become a great big “I told you so” moment for her and would probably result in my being completely grounded.
So forget that.
Besides, there had to be ways to proceed carefully. From now on when I went out at night, I would make sure to be with someone. And if I needed to investigate something, I would ask Whit along.
Whit…It was interesting how useful he’d become, both in my “investigation” and as an alibi. Why did I feel I could trust him when it felt so hard to trust anyone else? Didn’t he have the most to gain from ingratiating himself to me? How did I know for sure that he wasn’t using me? Pretending to be my friend and searching for the truth until he got the really big story? The one that would guarantee him the job in journalism that he so dearly wanted? Since when had I become such a great judge of character that I knew everyone’s motives?
And, if he was using me to get that story, wasn’t it possible that he’d sent that threatening e-mail? What better way to ensure that I’d keep him involved in the investigation than to make me feel like I needed him for protection?
But if I couldn’t trust him, then who could I trust?
Or, had I reached the point…where I couldn’t trust anyone?
I made sure the windows in my room were locked. Then I locked my door and wedged a chair under the doorknob. And still lay
awake in the dark for a long time.
They reported on TV the next morning that the body found in the cave near Scranton had been positively identified as Rebecca Parlin. The report said that it would still be some time before the police would be able to pinpoint the cause of death.
I knew I shouldn’t have been surprised, but it was still a blow. Yet another step closer to a horrible ending.
And now there was school, which I wasn’t looking forward to attending. Not only because all those kids would once again be staring, as if they thought Dad was the murderer, but because I’d have to face Roman, knowing that we’d argued and that I’d implied that I was no longer sure I could trust her.
I decided to get to lunch early. That way when Roman got to the cafeteria, I’d already be at our regular table and it would be up to her to decide whether to sit with me. As soon as the bell rang, I was out of my seat and racing toward the cafeteria. Usually the only ones who hurried to lunch were hungry guys, and luckily I found myself behind Dave Curlin, a football player who charged through the crowded hallway as if trying to score a touchdown.
In the cafeteria, I was relieved to see that Roman’s and my table was empty. But as I headed toward it, I became aware that someone else was also getting closer. It was Roman, hurrying in from the other side of the cafeteria. We reached the table at the same time and stood across from each other, each knowing exactly why the other had been in a rush.
Then we both sat.
Roman was the first to speak: “See the news this morning?”
“Uh-huh.”
“No surprise, I guess.”
“Uh-huh.” I made no effort to hide my reluctance to talk.
Roman studied me. “Why are you acting like this?”
“I still don’t understand how you could have known where I was last night.”
“I told you, it was just a lucky guess,” she insisted.
It was obvious that no matter how many times I asked, she was going to give the same answer.
“So…when did you and Whit get together?” she asked.
I felt myself relax a little. We were back in familiar territory—talking about guys. Of course, I couldn’t tell her the news about Janet/Jane’s identity theft and criminal record, but I could be vague. “I guess we’re both interested in the same thing.”