JSweet100: She’ll like you if you’re open, because she’s not. Too afraid her piggies won’t squeal for her anymore.
GorJus95: She’s in the closet?
JSweet100: She’s in the pig-pen, but she likes to sneak out of the barn and look around when no one is watching. Flatter her, she likes that.
GorJus95: What do you want me to do with her? I don’t understand why...
JSweet100: The why can be found with the Ravisher. I am only protecting my own interests, and I know you are interested. Will you make her ask, ‘Where art thou?’
GorJus95: We’ll see. I’ll meet her for coffee.
JSweet100: You won’t be disappointed.
Justine visited a few more FriendsRing pages, including Piper’s, before logging off. She was aware that her internet activity could be traced, but no one at Haven Rest seemed interested as long as she did not make any trouble. She spent most of the day and night medicated, and the effects of her dinnertime antipsychotic medication would be taking effect soon, forcing her into bed. She could not remember the last time she watched a nighttime TV program or finished a book. The tutor came for only a few hours a day, knowing Justine and the other patients would start to nod off before he could finish the lessons.
She left the lab and, when she entered the hallway, several other patients were waiting, leaning against the wall. When she passed, they entered the lab.
Justine reached her room, Lauren only steps away. The nurse had been waiting for Justine to return.
“Are you going to bed?” Lauren asked.
“Yes.”
After Justine entered her room, Lauren shut and locked the door.
Justine changed into her nightgown. When she turned off the lights and crawled into bed, her room was dark except for the light through the barred window. She shut her eyes and sleep came before it was wanted. She did not dream on her medication, her waking hours just as blank, except for when she could amuse herself with thoughts of the Ravisher and his quest. She wished she had a quest, but at least things were getting more interesting, with a picture in her mind that she wanted to paint; the Ravisher and his army of floaters, all ready to go to war with the evil aliens. She might be allowed to return to art therapy, enough time had passed. She would promise not to disturb the other patients, but it’s not as if none of them had ever tried painting with their own blood.
Chapter Fifteen
Sonya could not help but notice the stoned look in Jess’s eyes as the girl sat at a table in home economics class, away from Kelly and her other friends.
Sonya had been assigned to another group to make a batch of sugar cookies, and was stuck with most of the task, including the use of the mixer. She was shocked to find out that most of her classmates did not know how to pre-heat an oven, and her group(consisting of two boys and the gum-chewing, pink-sweater girl from the first day of school, whose name was Mandy) sat at another nearby table.
Sonya added one egg to the batter in the mixer. As she was doing this, she noticed that Jess was laying her head down at her table.
Todd Kemp, at almost three hundred pounds, did not wear new clothes and his Hoveround was old, but he had a varied customer base at East Marine, from the football players to the trailer trash that hung out at Mack’s store. East Marine was not a big school, the building consisting of four main hallways. Sometimes security was tight; other times, lax. Todd Kemp, considered disabled, was allowed to bypass security checks.
“Hey, Jess! Wake up!”
The shout was followed by giggles, but Sonya recognized the boy’s voice, one of Kelly’s admirers. Jess stirred in her seat, raising her head. She did not smile, but joined her group before Mrs. Morrison could notice. She rubbed her eyes for a moment, padding the bandages on her cheeks. The same loud boy dropped an egg on the floor, followed by more nervous giggles from the girls. He was the only boy in the group, he wanted to show off.
Sonya finished mixing the batter, then dropping spoonfuls on to the cookie sheet. The cookies would need at least ten minutes to bake, so Sonya decided to wash the dishes early.
She filled the sink with lemon-scented detergent.
Sonya had retrieved her list the night before, after talking with Kristen. The Ravisher was under six feet tall and had big feet, but that was not enough to prove anything. Trey Winstead frequented the neighborhood, taking Kyle to work everyday. Kyle had said that Trey owed him a favor, and the both of them could have been working at Metal Concepts when Kristen worked there during the summer, but she claimed to have never met Kyle.
Why would Trey or Kyle be likely suspects? Sonya thought. Neither one has been questioned by police. Maybe Rick, but only because his Aunt Sharon knows his history.
“What is this doing on the floor?” Mrs. Morrison asked.
She was pointing to the egg. Jess’s group looked down. The boy led out a loud sigh, and the girls laughed.
“Clean it up,” Morrison said. “You don’t leave until then.”
She walked away in her sensible black flats, pointed at the toes. The boy looked to the girls, as if wondering which would clean up for him. After a few moments, Jess grabbed a piece of paper towel, and scooped the drying yolk from the floor.
*****
“Ashley didn’t even know Rick had been arrested,” Bobby said. “She has a restraining order out on him, but she still wants her money.”
Sonya and Bobby were standing at Sonya’s locker at the end of the day, waiting for the bell to ring.
“Anyway, Mom wants me to go over there,” he said.
“Where does Ashley live?” Sonya asked.
“The Meadows apartments, out by the industrial park.”
“My step-dad lives there.”
“So you know where the place is?”
“Yeah.”
“Good. You can go with me. I’ve been there before, and Ashley—”
“You want me to go with you?” Sonya asked. “Why not Piper?”
“She would, but she has...a thing.”
“When do you want to go?”
“Not until next week. I mean, if Rick is out of jail, I’m not going anywhere near that place. Ashley always has her creepy relatives hanging around, her dad was a Diamond.”
“Did Rick get close to them?”
“He’s buddies with Ashley’s brother and uncle, and that’s what I’m worried about.”
“What do you mean?”
“One of them could bail him out. It wouldn’t surprise me.”
The bell rang and Sonya and Bobby joined the herd of students walking out of the doors. “Has your mom ever considered a restraining order?”
Bobby shook his head. “She won’t do it, she would never turn her back on him.”
“After he hurt you?”
“Mom doesn’t want to choose.”
“She may have to.”
“Keeping him in jail was a big step for her, believe me.”
“Does she worry about him more?”
“She thinks he might kill himself someday.”
“Is anyone else in your family bi-polar?”
“No. Not that I know of.”
“Do you ever hear from your dad?”
“Not in years.”
“Does he pay child support?”
“He used to. Why?”
“I was just curious.”
“I can barely remember what he looks like. It all went bad when Anna died.”
“Who?”
“My sister. She died when she was three months old. My mom found her dead in her crib. Anna was born before me. My dad was in jail at the time, he had been selling stolen stuff with this guy who was a Blue Diamond. Dad used to take Rick to the club-house sometimes. Dad was gone by the time I was two years old. I think he took off because there was a warrant for his arrest. We moved into my grandma’s house for awhile.”
“It must have been tough for your mom.”
“Yeah, but I
don’t remember much from that time.”
*****
“Sonya? Can I borrow your camera?”
Sonya looked down from the open attic door. “Okay, Dad.”
She found her camera in her drawer, bringing it downstairs.
Bill’s hunting equipment was spread out on the living room carpet and couch. Aron took the camera, focusing on the almost-new tent, in a green and brown camoflouge design. “I’m going to need your lap-top, too. Bill’s letting me put some stuff on e-Bay.”
Bill was sitting at his chair, Helga sniffing some of the items, including a bow and arrow set in its case and several knives. “I should get a good price. I’ll be sure to call Mike.”
“Did you find the receipt you were looking for?” Sonya asked.
“What?” Bill asked.
“The receipt on the knife.”
“Oh, right! No, but the knife is over there. I suppose I can still sell it...”
Sonya looked over at the knives in their bags and cases. Aron continued to take photos while Sonya pulled out the clipped point knife from its black case.
The wood handle and blade were clean, the point very sharp. Sonya ran the tip of her thumb across, making a tiny cut. For a moment, she imagined the blade cutting into the flesh on her face.
She put the knife down.
“Sonya?” Aron asked. “What are these other pictures?”
He had found the stored photos on her camera that she took at Whispering Pines. “Just from the area where Jess lives.”
Aron looked through several of the photos through the screen. “Were you over there alone?”
“Yes, I was.”
“I don’t think that’s smart.”
“I haven’t been back.”
“I looked everywhere for that receipt,” Bill said. “And I know I didn’t own two knives that look exactly alike.”
“But why would you have it if you sold it months ago?” Aron asked.
“Don’t ask me.”
Aron handed Sonya back her camera while he took the bow and arrows out of the unzipped case. She found herself looking through the photos of the homes at Whispering Pines. Cal, when they ate dinner at Edie’s Cafe last week, told her about the house the MPD found stripped.
A large beige and white house in the cul-de-sac. Sonya recalled hiding her camera, because she knew they were watching, with their medicine cabinet and chandelier in the truck bed.
She found her photo of the house, the truck parked at the front steps. Cal had mentioned the name of the family, but Sonya could not remember.
She wondered if her picture was taken with the camera phone as a kind of revenge, along with it being sent to the Blue and White. She did not have a chance to see her photographer, just the flash from the camera phone.
Did SkolClik live in that house? she thought.
A teenaged boy had been helping a man carry some furniture out of the house, but he looked like any other kid, maybe around seventeen years old. Kristen had mentioned something about SkolClik being female, but would not explain more.
Why is everybody so secretive? Sonya thought. Kristen, Bobby, Piper, crazy Justine...they all seem to have something to hide. How can you ever know the truth?
She handed her father the camera again. Bill had gone into the kitchen to feed Helga, their own dinner undecided.
“Sonya?” Aron asked. “Where can we get a five-dollar pizza?”
“Marco’s used to have pizzas for five dollars. But they’re downtown.”
“Nero’s!” Bill called out. “Pepperoni! Four ninety-five!”
“Nero’s then.” Aron said. “Sonya, find the phone book.”
Bill scooped a serving of Helga’s dog food into her bowl, the hard kibble making a rattling sound. “It’s 773-0044. Takes twenty minutes.”
*****
Sonya, after calling for pizza, used her lap-top to download the photos Aron took of Bill’s tent and bow and arrows. She then went to the FriendsRing homepage.
She was not a user of FriendsRing or Twitter, but realized that anyone with a FriendsRing page could contact any friends from the site straight to Twitter. On the first day of school, Kelly mentioned that all of her friends had Tweeted her but Jess.
Did Jess Tweet anyone that morning? Sonya thought. Would she have Tweeted from FriendsRing? What if she told them all she was leaving for school? Could the Ravisher have known she was going out the door?
Cal had also told Sonya about Brenda Wallace and her daughter seeing a man running through Whispering Pines on the morning Jess was attacked. If that man was the Ravisher, did he receive Jess’s Tweet just minutes before? Did Melanie Wallace also send out a message the same way? But her mother decided to give her a ride to school at the last minute, throwing off the Ravisher’s plan. Garcia thought that the Ravisher was planning to attack Melanie and Jess, but how could he plan if he was only relying on Tweets from both girls? He had to be more prepared to know exactly when Jess came out of her house. He had to know their schedule, when they were likely to be alone. But Brenda Wallace had her work hours switched from first to third shift. The Ravisher could not have known that.
Sonya pulled out the lists of FriendsRing friends from Piper, Bobby, and Jess. This time, she studied all three lists, side by side, on the kitchen table. The screen-names were listed alphabetically, and Sonya circled the matching names, writing these down on a separate sheet of paper. The lists filled many pages, so Sonya could have stayed at this task for an hour, but stopped after forty minutes, when Aron returned with the pizza.
*****
Piper had returned home from school, and got on her FriendsRing page at the chocolate sofa, MacBook in her lap, Jo-Jo at her feet.
Piper had been growing bored with FriendsRing, preferring to communicate only with her friends from school. She had told Kelly and Courtney those very words today, and they all agreed with her; they were going to take their pages down, because the Ravisher could be using FriendsRing, Bobby had told them so. Sonya Neslund’s step-dad was a reporter for the Marine Press, and he said that the e-mail Emily received was a hoax.
Kelly and Courtney sounded like two chirping birds as Piper tried to eat her lunch, wishing she had sat with Bobby and Sonya instead. Bobby was welcome to sit with them, but Kelly and Courtney did not like Sonya, ever since she spoke with Kristen in front of her former friends. Sonya had jumped the fence, breached a wall, and entered a room where freshmen were not allowed, making Kristen’s friends look bad, most of whom were cheerleaders, their boyfriends jocks.
Piper chuckled at the thought of Sonya, who seemed to not care what anyone thought, making the seniors clutch their pearls, as Bobby would say.
The piggies with their pearls, Piper thought. Justine isn’t off the mark, is she?
The Instant Message screen appeared:
RomeoBoy: Care to chat?
Piper replied:
Princess2014: Hi, RomeoBoy.
RomeoBoy: Let’s meet somewhere.
Princess2014: I don’t know...
RomeoBoy: A public place?
Princess2014: Maybe. I’ll think about it. I like to be careful. I’m only fifteen, and how can I know you’re the same?
RomeoBoy: I’m seventeen. I play in a band. I’m an open book.
Piper sighed, knowing this guy could be some middle-aged pervert, like on Dateline: To Catch A Predator. However, Piper was bored, so she decided to continue for awhile.
Princess2014: What’s your real name?
RomeoBoy: Ariel.
Princess2014: You’re a girl?
RomeoBoy: Yes. I just use the screen-name to keep guys from hitting on me.
Princess2014: That’s interesting...
RomeoBoy: Do you ever go on message boards for gay teens?
Princess2014: Sometimes.
RomeoBoy: That may be how I found your address. Do you still want to meet?
Princess2014: I’m not sure yet.
r /> Piper did not recall leaving any of her addresses at any of the message boards she frequented, but did use the Princess2014 screen-name at some of them, including a few of the gay teen sites. She knew better, because RomeoBoy/Ariel could have hacked into a gay site to get one of Piper’s many addresses.
Piper was curious about meeting other lesbians her own age, but she could not be seen by one of her classmates. Bobby and Sonya knew, but did not care; however, she could not expect everyone to feel the same way, especially her mother.
Piper looked down at Jo-Jo, who was chewing on a Denta-Bone.
How could one new friend hurt? Piper thought. She’s older than me, and probably doesn’t go to the same school.
Piper spread her fingers back over the keyboard.
Princess2014: Give me your address, I’ll get back to you.
RomeoBoy: Is that a yes?
Princess2014: A definite maybe.
*****
“You had to know that e-mail was a crank,” Cal said.
Garcia took another sip of beer from a mug. He had surprised Cal by wearing a jacket and tie that day. “I was feeling too optimistic, but I figured it out. Do you know the story of Jack the Ripper?”
“Of course. Who doesn’t?”
Cal and Garcia were waiting for their pizza at Marco’s downtown. Their table, covered with a red and white checked tablecloth, gave them a view of the pier.
Garcia poured beer from a pitcher into his mug. “Jack the Ripper sent letters to Scotland Yard, taunting the investigators. There were also copy-cat letters, the same with the Zodiac Killer—”
“This guy is just a punk.”
“Don’t underestimate the public fascination. People around here are out of work, they’re bored and frustrated. I’ve read the responses on the Press’s website.”
Cal nodded. “The board is lit up. And they keep asking, ‘Why can’t the MPD find this guy?’”
“I can’t deny that he is making a fool of me, of the whole department. But he’s not sophisticated enough to commit his acts for long. Every lead is currently a dead-end, but there’s always another lead, no matter how remote.”
“The parents of these girls must be putting the pressure on,” Cal said.
“The one person I hear from the most is Kristen Beck’s brother, Tony. Not their parents, even Jess’s mother has backed off, and I can’t get Emily’s parents to talk to me without their pastor in attendance. Just Tony. He keeps telling me to question his old co-workers from Lister Construction. Something about a peeper.”