by Sean Platt
Message after message calling her names.
Slut.
Whore.
Dyke.
Cunt.
Bitch.
Most were from people she went to school with but didn’t know.
It must’ve gotten out.
Jordyn’s heart pounded harder, her fingers trembling.
She looked to see if Bobby was on.
His icon showed him as active.
She messaged him.
What happened? Did it get out?
She waited, staring at the page with her message to Bobby, waiting for his response.
She saw that he was typing something. And then, suddenly, his status read: offline.
“What the hell?”
Jordyn looked to see if anyone else in her friends list was online.
A message popped up from a girl named Becky — one of Brianna’s friends.
Kill yerself, slut.
Tears streamed down Jordyn’s cheeks as she clicked on profiles for Brianna, Bethanee, and others in Calum’s crew, looking to see if any of them had mentioned the party or what happened.
But as she clicked through the names, one after another, were marked as no longer her friends. She couldn’t read their walls.
“What the fuck?”
She clicked on the few friends she still had: Bobby, Calum, and Sammi.
There were a lot of new friend requests, mostly from guys she didn’t know. Most had messages attached saying stuff like “nice tits” and “wanna hook up?”
“What the hell happened?” Jordyn asked herself, staring at the screen.
She reached for her phone. It was charged enough to turn on.
There was a ton of voice mail, from numbers she didn’t know. She was afraid to play the messages.
Nothing from Bobby.
She called him. It went through to voice mail.
What the hell?
She hung up, called again.
Voice mail again.
“Bobby, it’s me. Please call. I need to talk to you.”
Jordyn waited.
All night.
**
At noon the next day, Jordyn was still in bed, all cried out, and still nothing from Bobby.
Messages on LiveLyfe were only getting worse. The girls were mostly pissed, calling her terrible names and asking how she could do that to Bobby. He’s so sweet. The guys were mostly coming on to her, asking if she’d like to chat, preferably on video.
Jordyn wanted to respond, but a part of her told her not to, not until she knew what was happening. She was missing some piece of information. Why would everyone be mad at her, and how did it get out so quickly—
A horrifying thought: video.
Someone had taken and posted a video.
She searched for links, but most of the people Jordyn suspected of posting it were behind private walls since she wasn’t friends with them.
She called Bobby again, for the fourth time in the past hour, and left another message. She thought about walking to his house, but it was raining, and she didn’t feel like getting soaked or hit by lightning.
She messaged Sammi: What’s going on? Why does everyone hate me?
Though the message was seen, Sammi didn’t respond.
Something horrible gnawed at Jordyn’s stomach. She couldn’t eat or focus on anything. She stayed in bed, watching the screen, waiting for a phone call that wasn’t going to come.
Where is he? He always calls me on Sunday morning.
Jordyn had to talk to Bobby, preferably before her father came home. There was no way on Earth she could tell him about this. No way she could hide her emotions. He would find out. And then he would freak out. Then he’d punish her forever, and say “I told you so” about Bobby before banishing him from her life.
Finally, a ping on her computer.
Sammi: You didn’t see the video?
Jordyn felt punched in the gut. She wrote back: No. WHAT video?
Sammi responded with a link.
Jordyn was afraid to click it. Terrified of what might be on there. But she had to see it. Had to know why she was getting so much hate. What had she done with Sammi? And why the hell were people freaking out about it when Bobby had said that tons of other half-naked girls were making out in the pool?
She clicked on the video.
There was no sound, but she and Sammi both seemed to be giggling as they climbed on the bed. Calum was there, directing them to kiss.
They did.
Jordyn felt nauseous.
Sammi took off her top. Then Jordyn lost hers.
Sammi licked her breasts, kissed her more, pushed Jordyn down to the bed. They laid there for a few moments. Then the video jumped ahead.
Sammi was face down, either asleep or passed out.
Jordyn was sitting next to her, blindfolded.
And then a guy, naked except for a camo mask, climbed onto the bed.
It wasn’t Bobby.
She couldn’t tell for certain, but Jordyn thought it was Calum.
He touched her, then went down on her.
Jordyn wasn’t stopping him.
No, no, no.
What the fuck?
She stared at the screen as the guy with the mask had sex with her.
No, no.
She shook her head, tears streaming down her burning cheeks.
And then, within a couple of minutes, the guy was done.
But the video wasn’t.
Jordyn stared at the screen, at her lying there, wishing she could somehow talk to herself in the past and tell her to get up. To run.
She couldn’t tell if she was even conscious.
Then things got worse.
A second guy with a mask appeared.
No.
And then a third.
Jordyn screamed.
* * * *
CHAPTER 43 - MALLORY BLACK
Mal was in the break room resting her eyes. She heard her name and looked up to see Carrie Thompson holding a coffee. “Long night?”
“Long month.” It had been two days since the matrimonial no-show. Brown hadn’t posted anything since his failed attack. The task force was intact, everyone still following tips and leads, but all evidence pointed to Jeff going into hiding. If he didn’t strike soon, the task force would be suspended, and things might return to normal.
Mal didn’t want that. She wanted the bastard caught. She needed closure.
“Can we talk for a minute?”
“Sure,” Mal said, pushing out the chair across from her. “What’s up?”
Carrie sat, then updated her on Katie’s status. She was leaving the hospital in the morning, and Carrie lined up a temporary foster family.
“How is she?” Mal asked.
“Physically, she’s good. Her wounds are healing fine. No lingering effects from the coma or head injury. But mentally, I’m not sure. She’s going to need a lot of love to get through this.”
“How’s the family you’re putting her with?”
“One of the better ones. The Andersons. They’re near capacity with three foster kids already, in addition to their own two children. But they’re good. They’re patient. And their family is good with the fosters.”
“Does she still hate me?”
Carrie nodded. “Katie needs someone to blame for now. It’s the only way she can make sense of this. And I’m sure deep down she’s condemning herself.”
“That’s fine. I’d rather she hates me than blames herself. That fucker Kincaid probably did a number on her too.”
“No doubt. We’re going to get her therapy for both what happened with her parents and the molestation from the coach.”
“Good. Let me know if she needs anything, anything at all.”
“Thank you. I will.”
As Carrie left, Mal thought about the way Katie had yelled at her. How much hate she was holding. Mal had beat herself up about it for a while, but in the end, she had to consider the cold hard facts
: Katie wouldn’t have been better off had her father lived. Yes, her mother would still be alive, and the family would be together, but was it really better to live under an oppressor’s thumb? Maybe her mother was better off dead. And maybe Katie was better off with a fresh start?
For one moment, Mal considered asking if she could take Katie in as a foster child. Maybe adopt her. But she dismissed the idea quickly. As much as she would love a chance to help the girl, and an opportunity to have a family again, Mal also knew that she wasn’t in a good place to be a parent.
Her job required long hours and a dedication bordering on obsession.
She would hardly ever be home. And when she was, she wasn’t going to be good company.
Plus, Mal was an addict. How the hell could she take care of a kid when she couldn’t even trust herself?
Mal’s phone rang.
Another private call.
“Hello,” said the Hunter.
She sat up, her heart racing, wondering what he was calling about. Did he have info on Brown?
“You didn’t catch him.”
“He wasn’t at the strip club,” she said.
Silence on the other end. She let it go, waiting for him to speak.
“She’s not safe,” he said.
“Who?”
“His wife. He’s going to strike tomorrow.”
“Where?”
“Her house. I don’t know when other than it’s at night. And one other thing. When he tells you to put your gun down, don’t. You have to shoot him instead.”
“What do you mean?”
“If you don’t shoot him, he’ll kill her.”
“Sandra?”
“Not Sandra. I don’t know who she is. A girl. Don’t ask me how I know, just remember what I told you. If you put your gun down, he’ll kill her, then you.”
“Why are you telling me this? What’s your deal?”
“I’m just someone tired of seeing the monsters win.”
“Is that why you killed Wes Richards?”
“Wes was a monster. He created Paul Dodd who killed God knows how many kids, including your daughter.”
“So why not turn him in and let us handle it?”
“Sometimes monsters walk free because of mistakes, because of an unfair system, or maybe because a butterfly flapped its wings somewhere and set into motion a chain of events which led to a killer walking free. Someone has to catch the monsters you can’t.”
“And that’s what you are, a monster hunter?”
“I never thought of it like that, but sure.”
“How many monsters have you caught?” Mal asked, feeling like she was getting closer to some truth that might tell her who he was.
Silence on the other side.
“Come on,” she prodded, “if you believe in what you’re doing, why not tell me?”
“Because you don’t believe. You think I’m the bad guy. That I’m the monster.”
“No, I think you’re a frustrated man. Maybe someone who has had a serious injustice done to him or someone he loves. You’re fed up with excuses. Hell, I can understand more than most people can. I lost my daughter.”
“Then why didn’t you make him pay? You had a chance to end it, but you didn’t.”
“You think I didn’t want to kill Paul Dodd? Do you know how damned hard it was not to pull the trigger? Doing that would turn me into a monster like him. And I refuse to let him define me.”
“He was in your house. He was a threat. You could have killed him without punishment.”
“You still don’t understand. Yes, I could have killed him. That’s something for the lawyers to argue. But, at that moment, I didn’t want to kill him. I wanted him to pay for what he did. To my daughter, to the other kids, to Jessi Price. I wanted him in prison, on death row, whatever the system decides. The law decides who lives and dies. And I have to have faith in that law. Without it, what do we have?”
“I can respect that, Ms. Black. I truly can. But a wicked world needs some lawless monsters. If that’s what I need to be, then so be it. I’m willing to sacrifice so that others won’t be asked to.”
The Hunter hung up the phone.
Mal called Aanya immediately.
“I need a trace on the person that just called my department issue cell.”
Aanya called back minutes later and gave Mal her home address.
**
Mal and Mike pulled up to her house, with a backup patrol unit, went inside, guns raised, and searched. But no sign of the Hunter. Nor any sign of anything being disturbed. The locks were secure and the system still armed.
She could check the video surveillance, but doubted she’d find anything. Mal didn’t think that the Hunter had been here.
Mal had not been in her house since Paul Dodd had nearly killed her. She looked around the living room, anxiety warring with pleasant memories from before her daughter’s death.
The Christmas tree in the corner, decorating it as a family. Lingering meals at the table. Sitting in the living room, helping Ashley with school projects. Coloring, side-by-side.
Her chest constricted. She had to get out.
Mal walked outside without a word, and stopped in the front yard, leaning on her knees, trying to catch her breath. A moment later, Mike was behind her.
“You okay?”
Mal nodded, shooing him away.
She was embarrassed and didn’t want to put on a show for either Mike or the deputies coming out of the house.
As Mal took a moment to gather herself, she noticed something peculiar — the flag on her mailbox was raised.
She straightened her posture and headed toward the mailbox, her heart racing. She opened the mailbox and saw a phone, with a Post-it taped to the side.
It read, I’M NOT A MONSTER.
* * * *
CHAPTER 44 - JORDYN PARISH
“I’m home,” Jordyn’s father called from downstairs.
She wasn’t ready to see him. She didn’t know what to say or do. And there was no way she could hide the pain in her face. One look at her, and he’d know something was horribly, terribly, awfully wrong.
Jordyn was about to crawl into bed and pretend to be sick. But her phone buzzed with a text from Bobby: We need to talk. Meet me at the park by your house in 20 minutes?
She texted back. Okay.
Moments later, a knock. Jordyn ran to her bathroom and closed the door. “I’m in the bathroom.”
“Okay, just checking in. How’s it going?”
“Okay. About to go meet Bobby at the park.”
A momentary pause. “Okay. What do you want to do for dinner?”
“I dunno. You choose. I should be back around six.”
“Okay. Let me know if you want Bobby to come.”
“Okay,” Jordyn said.
**
Dressed and ready, Jordyn shoved her emotions down as low as they would go. If her father detected anything, if he asked what was wrong, she would likely crumble into a heap and tell him everything.
Not a good move before seeing Bobby.
She went downstairs wearing her widest possible smile. “Hi, Daddy.”
He was at the kitchen bar, working on his laptop. He turned to her, distracted. “Hey, honey. Going out?”
She just told him she was going to the park. Had he forgotten already?
“Um, yeah, to the park.”
“Oh, yeah. Have fun. Text me if you think of something for dinner. Otherwise, I’ll probably just order pizza.”
“Okay. Love you,” she said, giving him a peck on the cheek.
Jordyn reached the front door.
“Wait,” he called out.
Shit.
She turned, the faux smile still fixed to her face. “Yes?”
He stood, went to his suitcase in the dining room, then returned with a pink Miami Marlins hat. He put it on her head.
“Got you that while I was down there. One of the pink ones for breast cancer awareness. You still lik
e the Marlins, right?”
Jordyn hadn’t seen a game since they’d stopped watching them together more than a year ago, but she wasn’t about to make him feel bad.
“Yes, thank you,” she said, hugging him.
Then Jordyn left, walking as fast as she could to the park while the knot in her stomach tightened enough to throttle her breath.
**
Jordyn was glad to see Bobby parked near the jogging path rather than the always-busy playground area. He was leaning against his car, hands in his pocket.
As she approached him, the knot in her stomach only worsened. He wasn’t coming to hug her. He was just standing there, watching her walking, like a stranger. Or an enemy.
“Hello,” she said, stopping a full foot away.
Bobby approached with his arms open.
She hugged him, trying not to cry, then failing miserably.
“Did you see the video?”
“Yeah,” he said, still hugging her.
“I didn’t do that. I mean, I don’t remember any of that. You believe me, right?”
“I believe that you don’t remember, yes. But, damn, Jordyn, three guys? Do you know how that looks?”
She pulled away from him, shocked. “Wait. You think I wanted to do that?”
“I dunno, I didn’t see you exactly pushing them off of you.”
“I was wasted. You know that!”
“Yeah, but you know what they say about drunk people? They don’t do anything they wouldn’t do while sober. Alcohol just removes inhibitions.”
She stared at Bobby, unable to believe that he could be so cold. “What happened to ‘It’s no big deal? Parties are supposed to be fun?’ Was it only okay when you thought I was just kissing Sammi? But if it’s two guys, then I’m a slut?”
“I didn’t say that,” Bobby said, raising his hands. “But, you have to admit, this looks bad. Makes me look bad, you cheating on me like that. Everyone’s laughing at me. They’re calling me a cuck all over LiveLyfe!”
“Are you fucking serious? You look bad? I’m the one in that video. I’m the one being called a slut! And I’m the one being raped!”
