“Are you saying that you think that guy might have evidence that could help prove what happened?”
“I’m not saying that. I’m saying that if it were me, I’d be paying FBI headquarters a visit.”
“Do you have a name?”
More silence.
“I’m trying to remember. It was something super basic—like John or Jim. Definitely a J-name.”
I scribbled that down on my notepad.
“Awesome. I’ll see what I can find out with that.”
“I’m really sorry about the file, kid. I’ll keep putting pressure on the sheriff, but I just don’t think it’ll matter.”
“I know, but thanks anyway.”
“’Night.”
I hung up the phone feeling somewhat guilty. A part of me wanted to tell Meg that I already suspected the sheriff was dirty. The other part—the part tired of being dubbed the girl who cried wolf—didn’t want to say a word until I could prove it.
Exhausted and in need of sleep, I turned off the light and lay down on my bed, clothes still on, and let my mind wander. Facts swirled around in my brain, just out of reach, but they were getting closer. All I needed was one good lead and I could crack Boobgate wide open.
I fell asleep hoping tomorrow would bring exactly that.
* * *
I spent the better part of physics trying to figure out who to interrogate first. I had the list narrowed down to about four names, all of whom were decent kids with great families. Maribel was on that list, though I wasn’t looking forward to poking that particular bear with a short stick. It seemed unlikely that she’d be willing to help.
When the bell rang, I hauled ass to where I knew she’d be. I’d spent a lot of time that week observing everything around me, and one thing I’d learned was that she loved to stop by the girls’ room before second period. How lucky for me.
I slid through the door to find her reapplying her lipstick in the mirror.
“Maribel—got a question for you.” She shot me a sideward glance, then kept applying. “Where were you the night those pictures were taken?”
That seemed to get her attention.
“Nowhere near you,” she said with disdain.
“I gathered that, given that your boobs weren’t in those pictures, but that really isn’t an answer.”
“I was inside the house.”
“Good. Getting better … Where in the house?”
She dropped her hand away from her face and turned to pin irritated eyes on me.
“In a bedroom, okay? You happy now? I didn’t see anything.”
“Interesting … Can anyone corroborate that story, or…?”
“No.”
“Then how can you be so sure your brother didn’t do it?”
“Because he didn’t.” Her words were little more than a growl.
“He was seen near the hot tub around the time the pictures were taken, Maribel. Explain that.”
“I can’t, but I know him and I know he wouldn’t do that. And so do you.”
“I don’t know anything like that, but if you’re so convinced he wasn’t the one to actually commit the crime, then I’ll bet he knows who did. He listens to you, Maribel. Make him drop his bullshit story and stop covering up for everyone else.”
She clenched her teeth while inhaling deeply. One loud exhale later, she seemed to have calmed down.
“Jaime didn’t do it. He doesn’t know who did.”
I shook my head.
“I wish I could believe that,” I replied, turning to leave. I stormed out of the bathroom, mentally scratching her off my list. My entire interaction with her had been a bust. Though I wasn’t derailed by the setback, I wasn’t excited about facing a bunch more conversations like that one.
Study hall was quiet since Mrs. Summers moved Tabby away from me. I really wanted to talk to my friend. I really needed her help.
I settled for info-dumping on her between classes, which was an impressive feat given how short our trip to the locker room was. By the time we arrived she knew everything about my wild chase through Gramps’ neighborhood—minus all details revolving around Boobgate. I knew I needed to fill her in on all that sooner than later. I made a mental note to make time to do that on the weekend.
We were actually early to class for once, so we hovered around the perimeter of the gym like everyone else. But the second I saw Donovan walk in, I made a beeline for him, leaving Tabby behind to wonder what in the hell I was doing.
“Hey, Shipman!”
He turned slowly to face me.
“Something got you all worked up, Danners?”
“You and Mark have a fun night together? Do anything interesting like, oh, I don’t know … maybe try to run me off the road on my way home?”
My accusation garnered the attention of everyone around us. Before I knew it, we were encircled by students desperate for some drama. Which was basically the whole class.
“Danners, I’m starting to feel sorry for you. Your imagination is becoming more delusional by the minute.”
“Right … just like I imagined you about to beat your girlfriend up in the parking lot the other day?”
“What you saw in the parking lot was what you wanted to see. This whatever the hell it is you’re talking about now—this batshit story about running you off the road—that’s something else entirely.”
Some of the kids in the mob gathering around us started to laugh.
“I want my file back,” I said, ignoring his deflection.
His laughter stopped and his amused expression fell. He looked like I’d said something that genuinely surprised him. Like he really had no idea what I was talking about.
“Danners, I don’t know how to make this clear to you, but I have no clue what you’re talking about.”
Though I really wanted to believe he was lying, I didn’t think he was.
“Stay away from my house,” I said, turning to walk away.
“You mean your grandpa’s house, don’t you? Because you don’t have one anymore. You don’t have anything.”
“She’s got me,” Tabby said, stepping up beside me.
More laughter from the kids in class.
“Okay, everyone,” Ms. Davies shouted, blowing her whistle to break it up. “I can see you’ll be keeping this class interesting today.” She pushed her way through to the center of the circle to find Donovan, Tabby, and me standing there. “Boys on that end of the gym. Girls, over there.” She indicated where she wanted us to go, and everyone dispersed, gossiping to one another as they did. “Danners, is there a problem here?”
“No, Ms. Davies.”
“Good. Then you and Tabby head over there for me. Mr. Shipman, I have a special job for you today,” she said, ushering him toward the boys’ side of the room.
“What was all that about?” Tabby asked quietly as we walked. “You left out the fact that you thought Donovan was the one who chased you.”
“Oops…”
“And what file were you talking about?”
“One of the files for my dad’s case,” I said—or rather, lied.
“Oh. That’s weird. And scary.” She looked at me as though she expected further explanation, but I had no intention of giving it to her. I could fill her in on the truth later. Indoor field hockey wasn’t really conducive to meaningful conversation.
By the time gym was over, Tabby was less focused on what had happened, but I could tell that wouldn’t last long. I needed a buffer. I needed Garrett.
We walked into lunch to find him waiting for us at our regular table. With trays in hand, we made our way over to him and sat down.
“What’s up, Tabby?” he asked, looking at her with a furrowed brow.
“Ky filled me in on last night’s chaos. I hate feeling like I’m always a step behind.”
Garrett shot me an accusing look.
I let out a sigh.
“So, what’s the plan for tonight?” I asked, rerouting the conversation.
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“Only one thing to do around here on Friday night,” he replied, taking a bite of his pizza.
“No,” I whined shaking my head. “Not the game…”
“What game?” Tabby asked, not understanding the Friday Night Lights routine of the rural Midwest.
“The football game.”
“Oh!” Tabby exclaimed. “I’ve never been to an American football game before! You guys have different rules down here. It’ll be so fun!”
“You actually like football?” Garrett asked, unable to hide the surprise in his voice.
“Yes. My dad is friends with the owner of the Canadian Football League team in Calgary. We always had box seats. It was awesome.”
“Sweet Jesus … tell me we’re not actually going to go,” I groaned. “Someone. Please. I’m begging you.…”
“Oh, I think we have to go now, Ky. It would be un-American to not take her.”
“I’m okay with that. You can take her if you want to, but leave me out of it.”
“Nope. I can’t allow that. We’re all going.”
“Dammit, Garrett! Why do you choose this moment to pull rank?”
“Because I can.”
“So we’re going?” Tabby asked for clarification.
“Looks that way.” I exhaled heavily as I slumped forward onto the table. Football was so not how I’d planned to spend my evening. I wondered if I could somehow come up with a bad case of food poisoning after school. There had been some dodgy-looking leftovers in the fridge from a couple of days ago. Maybe a mouthful or two would take care of my Varsity Blues. “Now, somebody give me some good news because I’m desperately in need of some.”
“We have an assembly this afternoon,” Garrett said, the amusement in his tone telling me just how much he enjoyed torturing me.
“Tell me I’m sleeping and this is all a bad dream.”
“It’s a pep rally–inspirational speaker combo,” Tabby added.
“What am I being inspired to do?”
Garrett choked on a laugh.“To not do drugs…”
I shot up straight in my seat. “You’re shitting me—”
“Definitely not shitting you.” Garrett and Tabby laughed at my reaction while I plotted my escape. No way was I going to be able to sit through that BS. No way in hell. Not with my mouth shut, anyway. “Looks like it’s about time to feel that Badger spirit,” he mocked, cleaning up his spot at the table. I cringed at his words.
I wasn’t ready for the afternoon yet.
* * *
Being ambushed by one of my least favorite things did little to bring out my finer qualities. When Principal Thompson announced that it was time to head down to the auditorium, I audibly groaned. Cheerleaders and school spirit and someone telling me to “just say no” was likely to be the death of me.
It looked like a total free-for-all in the auditorium, so I stood in the middle of the aisle, looking for Garrett and Tabby. A stiff shoulder to my back knocked me forward, and I looked up to see Scooter Brown smiling back at me.
“Twatwaffle,” I muttered under my breath.
“Ky!” Garrett called, waving me over. I walked back up two rows to sit beside him near the farthest aisle—the easiest way to sneak out.
“Good thinking, Higgins. We’ll be out of here in no time,” I said, sliding into my seat. Then I looked back at the exit to find Mr. Callahan standing in front of it, staring back at me. “What is it with that man…?”
“He’s got your number. But don’t worry; the singing should cheer you up.”
“There’s singing?” I couldn’t hide the horror I felt at the thought. He simply nodded and smiled in response. “Do me a favor. When that starts, just render me unconscious somehow. It would be an act of mercy.”
“If I do that, who’s going to knock me out?”
“That’s your problem. I called it first.”
“Fine. I’ll just do something to get kicked out instead.”
“See? You’re more resourceful than you give yourself credit for.”
While everyone took a seat, I located Tabby’s red hair a few rows in front of us. She looked over her shoulder and spotted us, waving frantically when she did. Garrett and I waved back with equal enthusiasm and then laughed. A sharp glare from Mr. Callahan quickly quieted us.
The cheerleaders and dance team filed onto the stage and wasted no time diving right into their pom-pom-waving schtick. Maribel was at the head of the squad, calling out chants for us to follow along with. I hunkered down in my seat to weather all the pep.
Eventually, Principal Thompson came out to wish the team good luck and then introduce our speaker. He was a drug dealer turned pastor, who had a few words for us on the perils of substance abuse. It’s not that I was against the message—I wasn’t. Drugs were a great idea if you wanted to completely screw up your future and end up dead or in jail. On that, we agreed. But what I didn’t agree with was the preachy way he tried to relay that message. Judgment wasn’t going to keep kids off drugs. Viewing corpses, patients in withdrawal, and prison cells was what they needed—a big fucking dose of reality slapping them in the face. That would make them think twice about shooting up or snorting down whatever the high du jour was.
While the speech continued, I became increasingly irritated with it. All he talked about were street drugs, completely ignoring the abuse of prescription medications. Most families had a veritable pharmacy in their bathroom cabinet. How that was being overlooked was beyond me. Hell, our school was filled with class-one narcotics and mood-altering meds: the nurse’s office was chock-full of them.
“Drug-free school zone, my ass,” I said to Garrett. “This whole thing is a crock.”
“Ms. Danners, be quiet.” Mr. Callahan loomed over Garrett and me, standing right behind us.
“Sorry, Mr. Callahan. I just have a problem with hypocrisy. I was sharing that with Garrett.”
“I’m sure that your family has … different views on all things illegal, Ms. Danners, but some of us don’t share those views, and I’d much prefer you keep them to yourself.”
“So, you don’t find it at all strange that I have to be subjected to this diatribe when Nurse Henry is handing out Ritalin and Adderall like candy all day long? Those aren’t addictive drugs? Those don’t have life-altering side effects?”
“Those are properly prescribed medications. Not crack bought in a back alley.”
Not if they’re prescribed by Dr. Carle.…
“It all cooks up the same, Mr. Callahan. Snorts the same too…”
“That’s it, Danners. Out. Now.”
“Mr. Callahan, I’m just pointing out—”
“NOW, DANNERS!”
Mr. Callahan was loud enough to draw the attention of most of the student body. I could feel the anger pooling in my cheeks. He was a dick and was way out of line. I had big plans to tell him exactly that once we were out in the hall.
I slid past Garrett, who shot me a look that said Keep your mouth in check, Ky. I gave him one that said When I’m cold and dead. He didn’t seem pleased by my nonverbal reply.
By the time I was out of the auditorium, Mr. Callahan had already started in on me. I was a bad egg from a bad family. I’d never amount to anything if I kept it up. And my attitude was going to take me nowhere good. All things I’d heard before.
When he finally shut up and just stared down at me, clearly awaiting some sort of repentant reply, I smiled up at him like I hadn’t heard a damn thing he’d just said.
“So, should I just head to the principal’s office now, or…?”
“Go back to your classroom and wait for the bell. Principal Thompson has better things to do with his day than try to get through to you. You’re a lost cause.”
“Sounds good. Thanks.”
Without another word, I hitched my backpack up on my shoulder and made my way to the staircase. Mr. Callahan had just given me exactly what I’d wanted. A free ticket out of that shit show. It also gave me time to figure out whose cage
I was going to rattle next. I still had a lot of names on my list.
I planned to check a few more off before the day was done.
* * *
I walked into the house and dialed Striker’s number.
“Tell me I don’t need to send bail money,” he said by way of a greeting.
“Not yet, but you might want to set some aside just in case.”
“Way ahead of you,” he replied with a laugh. “So, to what do I owe the honor of this call? You did get the papers I sent Dawson over with, right?”
“Yep. Thanks so much for those.”
“Well, if it’s not about that, then do you want to fill me in, or should I keep guessing?” He paused for a moment, then blurted out something that nearly made me spit out the sip of water I’d just taken. “Tell me you’re not pregnant—”
“Jesus, Striker! No. I’m not knocked up. I may live in the pregnancy capital of Ohio, but that doesn’t mean I’m trying to help them keep that dubious title.”
He breathed a sigh of genuine relief. “Okay. Good. I just wanted to make sure. Now, let’s hear it.”
“It’s really nothing ominous. I was just hoping we could meet up tomorrow for lunch. Maybe start those monthly get-togethers that you suggested we have before I moved away. Possibly talk a little business…”
“How’s your investigation going, by the way? Come up with anything helpful?”
I exhaled hard, flopping down onto the couch.
“Not really. I’ve been a bit distracted.”
“By…?”
“By the unfinished business I have in this town.”
“I see,” he said, his tone suddenly all business. “You been digging into that?”
“I have.”
Silence.
“And? Find anything good?”
“Good? No. Interesting … yes.”
“Lay it on me, kiddo.”
So I did. I told him about him about the car chase and my stolen original file and the fact that the sheriff’s department couldn’t seem to find it now. That any trace of it—digital or otherwise—was gone.
He was quiet for a moment, absorbing the details I’d shared.
“Sounds like you’re onto something, Kylene, but it also sounds like you’ve stepped on some toes in the process. Any idea who stole the file?”
Dare You to Lie Page 15
