“If he told you anything, he’s dead. You both are,” Scooter said, lunging toward me. The other two had followed him, and Mark caught Scooter by the arm and shot me a look that encouraged me to leave before things got ugly.
“That sounds a lot like a threat, Scooter. I seem to be getting a lot of those these days. I think my attorney will be super interested to hear about this one.”
“Won’t matter if he does,” Donovan said.
“She,” I corrected. “If she does. And I assure you, it will.”
“You really don’t get it, do you? Nobody is going to believe you. Your credibility is shot in this town. All you’re going to do is embarrass yourself even more than you already have.”
“If that’s even possible,” Scooter said with a laugh.
“I’ve been wondering something for a while now, Scooter. Maybe you can clear this up for me. Your story about the night of the party: you said you were with Eric and you both saw the others in the basement. In fact, you all said some version of that story—except for AJ. Why do you think that is?”
“I don’t know,” he said, looking confused. “And I don’t really care.”
“It’s strange that so many of you gave the same story—almost word-for-word.”
“Because it was true,” Scooter said, stepping toward me.
“Maybe. Or maybe you were all coached on what to say.”
“Who would do that, Danners?”
“Who, indeed? You didn’t all share representation, so it wasn’t your lawyer. It makes me wonder if you know exactly who did it and you’re covering for him—that you all are. I know it’s not AJ—his story is the only one that differed from the rest of yours. Did the others lie to cover for you, Scooter? I wonder what could have motivated them to do that.” I dared to take a step nearer to him. “Part of me thinks you’re too stupid to have pulled off a stunt like that on your own, but the other is starting to think it was that stupidity that drove you to do it in the first place.”
Scooter’s face turned red, his eyes, murderous. Stammering in half sentences punctuated by four-letter words, he made another play for me. This time, Donovan shut him down with a straight arm across his chest. Scooter fell backward like he’d been drilled with a two-by-four. Donovan, however, hadn’t even broken his stride.
“I think it’s time for you to go.” Donovan hovered over me like the tower of muscle he was, glaring down at me.
“What about you?” I asked as I stared up at him. “What made you lie? Was it a coveted referral to see Dr. Carle and his never-ending prescription pad? A football scholarship would be a cushy pass out of this town—one you’re not getting with academics.”
Donovan didn’t say a word. Instead, his right hand shot out to strike my face. I slipped to the left, dodging the blow, then followed it up with a kick. My shin landed perfectly, slamming the sharpest part of it in the middle of his thigh. The force of the blow made his knee buckle and he staggered back. Mark caught him before he hit the ground.
“My knee!” Donovan screamed, struggling to stand. “You fucking bitch!”
There was something paralyzing about the roar of his voice. It should have sent me running, but instead, I stood there and watched as the beast prepared to come for me. It was clear in that moment how deeply the steroids controlled him.
Just how dangerous they made him.
“Go!” Mark shouted at me as Donovan regained his footing.
I didn’t need to be told twice.
I ran to Heidi and fired her up as fast as I could. Gravel shot everywhere as I peeled out of the parking lot. By the time my adrenaline wore off, I was stopped at a light on Main Street, resting my head against my worn-out steering wheel.
“Why, why, why…?” I asked myself as I bumped my forehead against the plastic wheel. “Why can’t I just keep my mouth shut?”
I’d stepped in it big-time with Donovan, and I knew there’d be no turning back.
Once I got home, I spent a solid hour in my room, pretending to do homework while Gramps made dinner. But in reality, I was brainstorming how I could possibly use what I knew about Donovan’s shady prescription to leverage him into leaving me alone. Just as I was about to give up and start my homework, I thought of something else. Something that could potentially shut him down for good.
A few years back, Ohio had a drug scandal that not only rocked the state but the entire nation as well. A young teenager had tried to report her father for illegally distributing medications at his pharmacy, but the state board didn’t listen. Months later, after a thorough Drug Enforcement Agency investigation, thirty-five pharmacists around the state were arrested. The media shit storm that rained down on the State of Ohio Board of Pharmacy as a result was brutal.
If they were smart, they wouldn’t let that happen again.
So I quickly devised a plan that all but recreated the circumstances of the previous case, then I dialed the contact number for the board and waited.
“State of Ohio Board of Pharmacy; how can I direct your call?”
“Who would I need to speak to about filing a report of abuse?”
“I’ll connect you right away.”
It certainly looked like they’d learned their lesson.
“Complaints; this is Dana; how can I help you?”
“Hi, Dana. My name is Gigi Smith, and I’m calling in regards to an article my high school newspaper is running on prescription abuse in my town and the professionals making this possible. I wondered if the state board would like to comment on how something like this can happen.”
“What kind of prescription abuse?”
“Bogus prescriptions being written and filled. Pharmacies automatically refilling scripts for controlled substances. That sort of thing.”
“Those are pretty bold accusations.”
“That doesn’t make them any less true.”
“Do you have proof?”
“I do, but I won’t reveal my sources. If you think I’m lying, maybe you guys should head down and investigate for yourselves. The Williamson Pharmacy in Jasperville, Ohio. I think you’ll find the trip worth your while.”
“Who is this again?”
I hung up the phone, not wanting to get pulled into an on-the-record reporting of a crime. My bogus ID would do little to help support my claim of fraud. All I could do was wait and see if they’d follow up, but I was fairly confident they would. They didn’t want another media nightmare on their hands.
With any luck, the DEA would be shutting down Donovan’s drug shack soon.
Then maybe the boy could overcome the beast.
THIRTY-TWO
The next day after school, Tabby begged me to bring her over so that she could see what I planned to wear to homecoming. Given I had very few options, I knew it wouldn’t take up much of my night. At least I hoped not. I could only be excited about dresses for so long.
We drove to Gramps’ house after school, the wind blowing our hair around like crazy through the open windows. I felt so carefree it was ridiculous. It reminded me of freshman year before everything went wrong.
“So you and Garrett—you’ve been friends since you were little?”
“Yep.”
“And you never dated?”
“Nope.”
“Ever? Not even for like five seconds?”
“Not even one.”
“Huh…”
“Huh what?” I asked, looking over at her as we sat at a red light. “Just ask what you want to really ask me, Tabby.”
“It’s just that … you seem like you’d be such a great couple.”
“We would, if we were eighty.”
“I think you two would be great together.” A pause. “Have you ever kissed him?”
I inhaled deeply, wishing that I could just lie and tell her no, but I couldn’t. Lying to Tabby was like cutting the horn off a unicorn. It was a desecration somehow. Like I was tainting one of the only purely magical beings left in existence. I just couldn’t do that
.
But man did I want to.
“Yes. Once. It’s a long story that I’m not going to rehash, but yes. I’ve kissed Garrett Higgins.”
She honest to God started giggling like an eleven-year-old, hands covering her mouth and all.
“So … how was it?”
“I don’t know. Wet? Awkward?”
“How old were you?”
“What is this? The Spanish Inquisition?”
She hesitated for a second, scrunching her features up into a confused expression.
“No. And the Spanish Inquisition wasn’t really an inquisition, per se. It was a tribune of—”
“Oh, my God, Tabby. I know what the Spanish Inquisition was.”
“Okay, but you just used it incorrectly.”
“Please turn green. Please turn green. Please—”
“Just tell me how old you were and I’ll drop it. I promise.”
“Twelve, okay? I was twelve. We were at summer camp. Someone dared us to do it. We did it. The end.”
“I bet it was good. He has nice lips.”
“Well, maybe you can plant one on him at homecoming. Draw a little attention away from me for once. You can tell me if it was worth it afterward.”
* * *
We spent most of the night trying on the few dresses I owned, laughing until we nearly peed, and doing all sorts of girly things that I hadn’t done for a long time. She almost made me excited to get dressed up and attend the dance that only days earlier I dreaded.
I was getting dressed when I saw Tabby staring at the stack of files on my desk. She walked over and flipped one open, scanning the contents.
“What’s this?” she asked. I zipped up my pants and walked over to her.
“Transcripts from my dad’s trial. I’m trying to figure out a way to get him acquitted or pardoned or something. Even if he shot the other agent, I don’t believe for one second that it was intentional. Something happened there between them that night—something that forced his hand. My father isn’t a killer, Tabby.”
She turned to me and forced a sad smile.
“I’m a whiz at fact-checking … and I’m pretty good at finding small discrepancies in things. Maybe I could help you wade through this stack…?”
I felt my throat tighten.
“Yeah, Tabs. That’d be great.”
She looked at me for a moment before plucking a file off the pile and plopping down on my bed.
“We should probably start a whiteboard or something—like they have on all those cop shows—so we can keep track of the facts and highlight anything we think looks shaky. Do you have any copies of your dad’s attorney’s paperwork?”
“No.”
“That would be helpful. I think you need an attorney to request it—or your father.”
“I can ask my boss about that. She’ll do it if she can.”
She gave me a nod, then went back to speed-reading the transcripts. She was three files deep before I finished my first. By then it was time to take her home.
“I think it’s interesting that Agent Reider would have agreed to meet your father at the building, alone, without any backup, if he for one second suspected your father knew of his investigation. I mean, even if he didn’t, isn’t it kind of odd? Like, why meet out there to talk?”
“Unless Reider thought it would be more suspicious to my dad if he didn’t agree. If my dad had suspected he was investigating, Reider’s refusal to meet with him would have thrown up red flags, right?”
“Yeah … I guess. It just seems like Reider had everything to lose by going to meet him there, that’s all. It doesn’t seem like something a seasoned detective would do. Not without a backup plan of some sort.”
“You’re right. He could have easily told my father he’d meet him there and then set up a sting or whatever they call it. So why didn’t he? Why didn’t he have backup?”
“If you can figure out the answer to that, my guess is you’ll have cause to reopen your father’s case,” Tabby said, heading down the hall.
It sounded so simple. Poke holes in Reider’s motivation to meet my father that night. But I doubted it was simple at all.
If it was, my dad wouldn’t have been convicted.
THIRTY-THREE
Since Tabby and I spent the night playing dress-up and junior detective, I didn’t get the last of my makeup work finished. Every class I had on Thursday was used to cram in as much homework as possible without getting busted in the process—not an easy task, but one I accomplished. By the end of the day, I had only two assignments left to go before I’d dug myself out of the two-week hole I was in.
Tabby asked if I wanted to read through more of my dad’s transcripts, but I told her I couldn’t, even though I wanted to. I really had to get the last of my work done—especially because everything I had left to do was either math or physics. No way was I coming up short for Callahan’s class.
I raced home so I could get started, parking in the empty driveway. As I made my way up the front walkway, a familiar voice called to me from the street. I didn’t need to turn around to see who it was. His voice was seared into my brain.
“Ms. Danners.” I looked over my shoulder to find Agent Douchecanoe sitting in a sedan parked in front of the house.
“Agent Dawson.” I did little to hide the contempt in my voice. “I was hoping to not see you for a while. Have you come of your own volition, or did Striker send you again?”
I watched as he climbed out of his shiny new car, his smug smile firmly intact. He strolled up the driveway like he didn’t have a care in the world.
“I’m here to talk to you about your situation. Striker asked me to keep an eye on you while I’m down here on another matter.”
I inwardly groaned.
“You don’t strike me as the babysitting sort.”
“Because I’m not. I followed up with him about the threats you’ve been receiving. He said if I wanted any chance of earning favor with him, I’d keep you safe.”
I cringed.
“Good luck with that.… I’m not really a safety kind of girl.”
“Or one who follows the law, I’m sure, but that doesn’t change anything.”
“I think Striker and I need to have a little chat.”
“If you think you’re going to leverage me out of this by telling him what I said about your father, don’t bother. He already knows how I feel. Why do you think he sent me? He’s got a sick sense of humor.…”
I wanted to call him a liar, but when I thought about it long enough, it was exactly what Striker would have done, just to stick it to the kid.
“He really does. So, got any news for me other than the bad news you already dumped on me, Agent Dawson?”
“Not much yet. Unfortunately. I don’t have a whole lot to go on.”
“Because there isn’t much.” I thought about the new information I’d gotten from Jaime and Meg, but kept that to myself. Striker, I would tell. Dawson? Not a chance.
“Maybe I’d have more if you’d tell me about this prior incident—the one from your past,” Dawson said.
“Maybe. Maybe not. Either way, you don’t get to know about that. And since any record of it seems to be conveniently missing from the sheriff’s office, you can’t dig anything up.” That got his attention. “At any rate, thanks for checking up, Agent Kiss-ass. I’ll be sure to tell Striker you’ve been totally helpful.”
I turned to leave, but he caught my elbow, halting me.
“Not so fast, Ms. Danners. I’m not finished yet.”
I looked down at his hand then back to him.
“Yeah. I think we are.”
He let me go and I started to walk away.
“What’s with the little showdown after school the other day?” he asked. I stopped dead in my tracks and turned to silently face him. “Yeah. I’ve been watching you, Danners. Like I said, Striker said to keep an eye on you. I can’t help but wonder if you’re not creating some of the chaos you go running to
him about. If you’re not—”
“… Bringing it on myself?” I replied, my voice low and full of warning. I knew if he said those words I’d lay him out flat, cop or not.
“If you’re not nearly as clever as you think you are. I watched you practically pick a fight with those three. It looked personal, and I couldn’t help but wonder if it somehow tied back into all this. If you’re meddling in something you shouldn’t be.”
My jaw nearly hung open. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Instead of coming down to really investigate, Agent Dawson was keeping tabs on me. He didn’t seem to believe I was in trouble.
He thought I was trouble.
“You think I’m lying.” It wasn’t a question.
“I think that your family name doesn’t give me a lot of confidence in your story.”
“Did you miss the part where Donovan took a swing at me? Did I ask for that?”
His expression soured.
“I didn’t see that. I saw you baiting the skinny one. I saw his friend hold him back, and then the big one knocked him aside to keep him from going after you again. Then I got a call.”
“Then I guess you missed the best part. But please, feel free to judge me on only part of the story. You seem pretty good at that.”
“Your dad is guilty. Get over it.”
“Just like you’re over your mentor’s death?” His eye flared with rage. “Yeah. I didn’t think so.”
He took a step closer to me, leaning his face into mine.
“If you think I’m going to stand here and listen to your tantrum, you’re high. I don’t give a shit about you or whatever high school drama you’ve manufactured. I’m here to help Striker help you and further my career. If you don’t like me or my methods, too bad. You’re stuck with me either way.”
I could feel my fist clenching at my side, and I forced myself to close my eyes and take a deep breath. If I hit him, I’d be arrested for sure. I also didn’t want to prove him right about me.
When I opened my eyes, I found him staring at me with an amused expression. It was clear that he knew he was getting to me, and he enjoyed every second of it. But before I could reply, I heard the rumble of a truck echoing through the neighborhood. Garrett’s truck. His timing couldn’t have been any worse.
Dare You to Lie Page 23
