Helpless

“So, that’s the reason I’ve had this poster hanging here for—oh, I don’t know. Since then, I guess. That guy said that something like eighty percent of the kids who hang up the poster of where they want to go college end up going to that school.”

Jill nodded. “Yeah, I think I remember hearing him saying that.”

“My father wants me to go there,” Lindsey said. “Doubt I can get a soccer scholarship now. I doubt I’ll be able to get in anyplace with this nightmare following me around.”

Jill had been gazing up at the poster with a look of hope on her face. In a second, that hopeful look turned into one of despair.

“Want to see what one of the witches texted me?” Jill asked.

Lindsey nodded. Jill handed Lindsey her cell phone. Lindsey read the messages and covered her mouth to show her disgust.

“Did you let Principal Osborne read these? They could get expelled for that.”

“Are you kidding? No. Best way to handle the witches is to ignore them. It’ll blow over.”

“Well, why do you think I got a new cell phone?” Lindsey said. “Too many nasty text messages. No more Facebook for me, either. People were posting the most horrible things.”

“They’re all just a bunch of bitches,” Jill said.

“Big, bitchy witches,” Lindsey agreed.

The girls shared a laugh. Then the mood turned serious again.

“Jill, I’m glad that you believe me,” Lindsey said. “I’m glad you don’t think I did what they’re saying.”

“That FBI lady convinced me. Now I know that it’s possible to make it look like you had,” said Jill.

“Who do you think sent around those Facebook friend requests?”

“You mean, Fidelius Charm? Who knows. But I bet it’s the same person who wrote the blog posts.”

“Has it been weird not living at home?” Lindsey asked.

Jill shrugged. “It’s been fun living with Flo and Irena, I guess. They’ve been cool to me. But I miss my home. I miss my bed. I’m thinking about going back there. I mean, what if my dad’s been set up, too? I know I’ve told you, like, a million times all the things my mom said about him, but I never got creepy, evil vibes from him. I mean, child pornography? That’s so sick.”

“But why are they setting me up?” Lindsey asked. “Who are they trying to ruin—me or him?”

Jill glanced down at her fingernails and began to nervously chip away at the red polish there. “You know how I’ve been hanging around with Mitchell Boyd?” Jill said. Lindsey shot Jill a look that said, “I’m your best friend, stupid,” as she pushed herself up and off the bed. “I’m wondering if Mitchell is somehow involved.”

Lindsey whirled around to look at Jill. “Why would you think that?”

“I don’t know,” Jill said. “He started acting nice to me right after my dad got in trouble. And then my dad had that major freak-out at the Spot. He told me that he and Mr. Boyd had some sort of falling-out and that I wasn’t allowed to see Mitchell anymore.”

“What do you think it could be?” said Lindsey.

“I dunno,” Jill said.

“You think Mitchell is somehow helping out his father?”

Jill thought a moment and nodded. “I mean, Mitchell’s dad is unbelievably rich, but Mitchell is always complaining his father won’t give him anything. He says he has to earn it, because that’s what his dad did. Maybe Mitchell’s dad is paying him, and that’s how Mitchell got that Mustang. Everybody’s been wondering where he came up with the cash for the car.”

“Mitchell’s not that smart with computers. Is he?”

“I’ve been to his computer room before,” Jill said. “He’s got, like, three computers in there. A bunch of monitors, too. He definitely knows something.”

Lindsey curled her upper lip in a snarl. “You think Mitchell got paid by his dad to set up your father?” Lindsey said. Jill thought about it and nodded again. Lindsey said, “Why would he pick me? He hardly knows me.”

“I don’t know, Lin. I’m just thinking, that’s all.” Jill noticed Lindsey’s expression darken. “What? What is it?” she asked.

“I haven’t been completely honest with you,” Lindsey said.

Jill’s body tensed, and Lindsey sat back down on the bed beside her.

Lindsey told Jill about how she’d met Agent Rainy Miles before the student assembly. How the FBI had come to her house with pictures that Lindsey had taken with her cell phone camera. Naked pictures of herself that she’d sent to Tanner Farnsworth.

When Lindsey finished, Jill threw her hands into the air and shouted, “Why are you telling me this now?”

“Because I was embarrassed,” Lindsey said.

Jill looked at Lindsey in a way that reassured her. She more than understood.

“I didn’t want anybody to know,” Lindsey added, then shook her head, disgusted with herself. “After you left Principal Osborne’s office, I told the FBI agent the truth. I told her that I’d sent the pictures to Tanner. Maybe Tanner showed them to Mitchell. They’ve been friends since grade school. Maybe… I don’t know, maybe, somehow that’s why Mitchell picked me.”

Jill got up from the bed, crossed the room, and sat herself down on the corner of Lindsey’s desk. Jill looked her friend in the eyes. “Mitchell texted me. He said he’s bummed we’re not hanging out anymore. He invited me to come over to his house tomorrow night,” Jill said.

“So?”

“So, if I’m alone in Mitchell’s bedroom, where Mitchell keeps his computers, maybe there’s a way I can find out.”

Chapter 49

Tom could feel the ground beneath him. His fingers dug at the dirt. Grass tickled his face. Jagged rocks pressed uncomfortably against his legs and arms. Tom thought he’d opened his eyes, but still couldn’t see. That was when he knew he’d been blindfolded. He listened for any recognizable sounds. But the only noise was a steady buzz that could have been insects or just his own drugged mind.

The ground beneath him seemed to be spinning. Each revolution came faster, turned tighter. He tried to swallow but gagged instead. His mouth had gone completely dry, beyond anything he imagined possible, as if every drop of moisture was being sucked up by an invisible sponge.

Someone pulled on his shirt. He felt himself dragged across the rocky ground and slammed up against the side of a car. He sat slumped on the ground, the car keeping him upright.

“Where are my drugs?”

Tom recognized the voice. His monotonous speech and raspy tenor were unmistakable.

Lange.

Tom labored to work his jaw, mouth, and swollen tongue to form his words. “What… drugs?” he managed to say.

“Not the ones I gave you, dumb ass,” Lange said to him. “You know what drugs I’m talking about. Look, Tom, you’re helpless out here. Don’t make this harder than it needs to be.”

Tom heard a car approach and could tell by the sound of its tires that it had pulled to a stop close by.

Someone else is here.

Tom heard a car door open, then slam shut. He heard heavy footsteps crunching across the ground. He struggled to stand, but rough hands pushed him back down.

“Is he talking yet?” Tom heard a man say. He thought he knew that voice. Deeper than Lange’s. Gruff. But from where?

“Not yet,” Lange said.

“Tie his hands,” said the other man.

“Why? This guy is drugged out of his gourd.”

“No unnecessary chances. Remember?”

“Well, I can’t really see out here.”