

### The Last Girl

### Laura A. Ellison

### Smashwords Edition

### Copyright 2011

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Books written by Laura A. Ellison can be obtained by through select, online book retailers.

### *****
Part One–FriendsRing

### Chapter One

" _Go ahead," the boy's father said. "Touch her..."_

The boy, no older than five, was standing knee-deep in the icy cold, brackish river water, which was soaking through his jeans, making him shiver. His father stood behind him, leather jacket zipped up, long hair whipping in the breeze.

The April afternoon was gray, the clouds fat with rain. The boy's mother had returned to work after staying home for weeks, her grief over the baby subsiding. The boy had grown used to her being around, he felt safe in her presence. With his father, he was always afraid, because the man was unpredictable and selfish. Sometimes, he would be gone for days, and the boy would go with his mother to his grandmother's house. The boy would play with her poodles in the yard and color in her old coloring books as she crocheted. She would pick him up from school, her warm presence as steady as a rock. Then his father would return, and the boy and his mother would go back to the other house, of coldness and silence.

_The boy looked down at the face in the water, his father's hand at his shoulder. The boy bent over and looked closer at the dark hair, crusted with mud and brown leaves, the lips bloated, the eyes swollen shut. She was naked, turned on her side, one arm covering her breast, the curve of her hip obscured by_ _branches._

He took a step back, but his father's grip tightened.

" _Touch her. Don't be afraid."_

The boy knew that if he touched the dead white skin, his father would let him leave. They could go home or to the club-house, where Rhonda, Dirk's old lady, would make him a hot chocolate.

The tips of his fingers dipped into the water, the cold going up his arm, through his coat. He quickly brushed his fingers against the doughy flesh, then he pulled his fingers away as if burned.

His father laughed; the same husky, almost choking, sound he made when he was smoking and drinking at the club-house. Sometimes, his dark eyes would get wet with laughing tears, the once-handsome face aging hard, but all of the brothers were wild, and the boy knew to be careful around them.

He felt nothing but relief when his father let go of his shoulder. "Come on; let's go to the club-house. But don't tell any of them what I showed you out here. Got it?"

The boy did not miss the tone in his father's voice. "I won't tell anyone, Dad."

*****

The blaring of the alarm clock yanked Sonya Neslund out of a deep sleep. In minutes, she would forget her dream of walking through the hallways of Marine General Hospital's Cancer Center, the white walls and gray floors turning into a maze as she called for her mother, Carolyn.

She opened her eyes, realizing that she was sleeping in the attic at her Uncle Bill's house.

Her new bedroom.

Sonya slammed the button on the clock. She was slow in the mornings, and her father, Aron, made her set the alarm an hour before she was to go to her bus stop.

He's going to make sure I never miss a day, she thought.

She put her terry-cloth robe on over her summer nightgown, an extra-large T-shirt. She took the short ladder downstairs to the bathroom.

After her shower, she blow-dried her thick, orange-red hair, keeping it loose as she dressed in new jeans and a gray T-shirt with navy-blue jersey sleeves. She wore no makeup on her fair, freckled skin or around her green eyes, the lashes almost pale.

She entered the kitchen, but Aron and Bill were nowhere in sight. Bill's dog Helga was also gone. Sonya approached the counter and found the yellow Post-It note:

'Went out to find B. Go out to bus stop at seven-thirty."

Aron did not sign the note, but Sonya was no stranger to these messages; Bill had wandered off in the night before, Helga following him. Sonya had even joined in the search, the neighbors well aware that someone with Alzheimer's disease lived on their block.

Sonya still had fifteen minutes, so she ate a piece of toast, unenthusiastic about her first day of school.

She knew no kids at East Marine High School; a different district, her friends from Stark Junior High would be going on to Oakwood High School. When Sonya moved in with her father and Bill, she knew she would be going to East Marine. She would be a new kid in her freshman class.

Sonya grabbed her backpack, deciding to go out early.

*****

She could see the yellow school bus in the distance as she stood at the end of the driveway.

The morning was humid but cool. A few leaves were changing color already, birds chirping inside the maple tree.

Sonya slid the backpack off her shoulder, a few notebooks, pens and pencils, laptop, and cell phone inside.

She looked down the street, certain this was her bus. She checked her watch. Seven forty-five. Classes would start right at eight.

She was going to be late.

Her suspicions were confirmed when the bus turned the corner, completely ignoring her.

The school was miles away; even if she caught a ride, she would be late. She could imagine the look on Aron's face. He was already disgusted with her about last year, when she almost flunked, her grades dropping as her mother fought the lung cancer that would take her life by April.

Aron had been a teacher for over ten years by the time Sonya was born, and education was how he had earned a living in the U.S. after moving from the Netherlands by way of Canada, where he attended college in Ontario.

"The only reason you passed," he said, "was because your teachers felt sorry for you, and so did Cal. But you won't get away with that living with me."

Sonya went back into the house. She pulled out her cell phone, knowing she should call her father. Instead, she decided to wait awhile.

*****

"What are you doing here?" Aron asked.

"The bus never came."

"Why didn't you call me?"

Bill and his Helga, the white and brown Boxer, had followed Aron into the house, Bill wearing the same tired, annoyed expression he always showed after wandering off. He was still in his pajamas, the brown fabric bringing out the pale blue of his eyes, his thick head of white hair sticking up, a layer of growth on his face.

Sonya did not answer her father, and Bill raised his eyebrows. Aron shook his head, the auburn hair also messy. His green gaze, so much like Sonya's, along with his wide forehead, hooked nose, and strong jaw, made more than one woman think the Neslund brothers were the most handsome men in the area.

"Sonya," Aron began, "why couldn't—"

She jumped from the chair, yanking her backpack from the table. "Cal used to drive me to my first day every year! Not that you'd know—"

"Get in the truck."

"I'd rather walk!"

"I'll go with you," Bill said.

"I'll be back in twenty minutes," Aron replied.

"Okay. I'll be all right."

Aron reached over, opening the tiny window in the medication organizer on the counter. "Take your meds."

*****

The ride was silent and cold, Sonya's face turned towards the window as she tried to gulp down the lump in her throat. Aron drove as fast as he could, slowing down when he reached the parking lot of East Marine High School, a sprawling one-story building constructed in the 1960s. The buses were gone, everyone inside.

Sonya exited the truck, slamming the door shut without looking at her father.

He saw her walk away, her head down. He noticed the sun shining on her red hair, reminding him of Carolyn for a moment. In spite of himself, he smiled. "Have a good day!"

Sonya ignored him, opening the front door.

*****

She found her home room, trying not to hear the giggles or see the finger pointing, as Mrs. Morrison handed her some paperwork. Sonya sat at a long table, not making eye contact, the hard look on her face was enough to keep anyone from speaking to her.

The wait was long before Sonya and the other students were handed their schedules. She could feel her mood lift, her gaze moving from the refrigerator and ovens, drifting to the magazine picture cut-outs of food stapled to the walls against construction paper. However, no smiling faces greeted her within the shaggy or choppy haircuts. There were also girls who wore tight buns, as if they were gymnasts or ballerinas, along with a few black-haired Goths, wearing nose-rings and pale makeup against red lipstick. A junior ballerina was chewing gum, popping pink bubbles against her pink lip gloss. She even wore a pink sweater. One boy, whose bloodshot eyes made him look stoned, brushed the dust off his new sneakers. Another boy kept staring past Sonya, then would look to the girl in the pink sweater, as if he wanted her opinion.

"When I get home, I'm going to hang myself."

Sonya thought the words were coming from a girl next to her. She turned and took in the blond-haired boy, his hair cut short above the ears and parted to the side, the bangs covering the forehead. His features were small, blue eyes impish. He wore a loose red neckerchief with a white T-shirt, sporting Boy George and Culture Club in black, red, blue. His jeans and sneakers looked new.

He was wearing red nail polish.

"Cheer up," he said. "Half of them won't be around for graduation day."

"Did you go to the middle school?" Sonya asked.

"Yes, I'm sorry to say."

"I went to Stark Junior High."

"I went there for part of sixth grade. My name is Bobby Chambers."

"I'm Sonya Neslund."

Bobby frowned as he took in each of his classes on the sheet of paper. "Are you taking algebra in the morning, Sonya?"

"Yes. First period."

He rose from his chair. "Then let's go meet Mr. Yates."

*****

"Bobby! Wait a minute!"

In the crush of students in the hallway, gray locker doors slamming shut, Sonya could barely hear one single voice, but Bobby turned around. "Hey, Princess."

Sonya could feel the girl come up behind her, long blonde locks brushing against her arm.

"Sonya Neslund," Bobby said, "this is Piper Jones."

The first thing Sonya noticed was how closely Piper and Bobby resembled each other; they could be brother and sister, except for Piper's impressive height.

Piper Jones was almost five feet, eight inches tall. A healthy tan and blue eyes complemented her hair and blue sleeveless T-shirt and jeans, red pumps on her feet. She wore a silver heart-shaped locket and diamond studs in her earlobes. Her big smile and high cheekbones were highlighted by only a little makeup. She was carrying a red Chanel bag with her backpack in a matching shade.

"Beautiful, isn't she?" Bobby asked.

Piper playfully smacked him on the arm with the red bag. "Don't let him fool you, Sonya. He loses his charm by lunch."

Bobby straightened his kerchief. "I never lose my charm. Where are the other future Desperate Housewives?"

Piper waved her hand. "All around. I spoke to Kelly and Anna and Courtney—"

"Piper!"

A girl with brown hair in a ponytail, wearing a red and gray argyle sweater twisted through the crowd. "Are you going to History?"

"No. Biology."

"So is Anna. Have you seen Jessica? They all Tweeted me but her."

"Haven't seen her."

"Hi, Bobby."

"Hi. This is Sonya. Sonya, Kelly Watkins."

"Hi, Kelly."

Kelly nodded a hello, but kept her eyes on Piper. "No one I know is in my classes."

"Are you in Honors English?"

"No. General."

"I think Courtney is in General." Piper turned to Bobby. "I gotta find the lab. See ya, Kell. Nice meeting you, Sonya."

Piper turned left down the hallway, and Sonya continued to follow Bobby.

"Kelly is one of those types who would die if she had to eat her lunch alone," Bobby said.

"Does Piper have a lot of friends?"

"Yes, she does, although she was the new kid at the middle school last year. She used to go to the Crandall Academy in North Marine." Sonya was not going to ask, but Bobby answered the question. "She got expelled."

"Why?"

"I guess they don't like girl-on-girl at Crandall."

Sonya stopped just steps from Mr. Yates's classroom door. "Piper is gay?"

"Proud, but not out."

"Oh."

"Who wants to be gay in high school, right?"

Sonya shrugged. "I can understand—"

"Oh, well, it's not like I could hide it. By the seventh grade, everyone knew I was the gay kid."

"I don't care what everyone thinks."

"Can't make friends that way."

"Then why are you talking to me?"

"I like the non-conformist types."

She opened the door, excited voices blaring from the classroom. "Then you're going to _love_ me."

*****

Jessica Holden had also been running late that morning, but she knew where to wait for the bus, along with a few other students meeting at the end of her block.

She was in the kitchen, fully dressed, drinking orange juice when the glass slipped from her fingers, juice splashing on her white, short-sleeved blouse. With only a few minutes to change, she grabbed a T-shirt off her bed. Jess was still tucking it into the waistband of her jeans as she ran out the front door.

The driveway was short, but trees surrounded the ranch-style house, leading to the road. Jess would have walked faster, but she was wearing the wrong shoes. She heard Piper was going to wear red pumps, so she wore the same.

The driveway was not paved, and the pumps' heels dug into the ground with each step, Jess regretting her choice as the back of the shoes rubbed against her bare heels.

I should have worn socks, she thought. Now I'll have blisters.

Jess was half-way down the drive when she heard footsteps in the trees behind her, to her right. She continued to walk, putting more urgency in her steps. She was almost past the trees when she was tackled to the side and knocked to the ground.

She landed on her back, his knee pinning her down at the chest. Jess took in the black sweatshirt and old jeans and boots, a black ski mask covering the face and head.

His build was slight, but Jess felt like a turtle on its shell as she tried to wiggle away. He pressed his other knee into her right elbow, one hand digging into her thick brown hair, keeping her head in place.

Jess had a few seconds to realize she was not breathing, and she needed to calm down to think. Her left hand was free, and she grabbed at him, but she felt the cold, sharp blade slice into the flesh of her inner arm below the wrist.

Her screams began as squeals, his hand sliding from her hair, over her nose, covering her mouth.

The blade found her right cheek, then the left. Deep, quick slashes, then over the bridge of the nose and up to the forehead, a clumsy horizontal line going into her scalp.

Jess continued to squeal and wiggle, blood soaking from between his fingers to her lips and mouth. The metallic taste spread over her tongue, and she stopped moving.

The blade left her face, his right hand pulling back. He looked down at her for a moment, her brown eyes wide with fear, focused only on him. She tried to suck air between his fingers and the blood.

He was slow getting off of her; one knee, then the next. She stayed still, hoping he would go away.

He ran back into the trees seconds later, Jess only aware of her breathing and the pale blue sky. She was in shock, the cuts on her face and arm numb until later, although some blood remained in her mouth.

The red shoes were still on her feet, the backpack underneath her. Like most students at East Marine, she would not be allowed to use her cell phone on campus, but could carry it with her.

She heard the ringtone, Culture Club's 'Karma Chameleon,' although she made no move to get the phone out of her backpack.

The song was half-way through ( _every day is like survival_...) until Jess thought about getting off the ground. She had no choice; one of her friends could be calling, someone would want to know why she did not make it to school.

"... _red, gold, and green. Red, gold, and green_..."

She only chose that song because Bobby already had "I'll Tumble 4 Ya" on his phone. She would have preferred something by Rihanna or Lady Gaga.

I'm going to change it, she thought.

The phone stopped. She turned her head to the side to spit out some blood, and she felt the first stinging sensation of pain in her cheek. Later, she would not be able to open her mouth to talk or eat without the cuts sending pain all over her face, the nerve endings needing weeks to heal.

The scars would take years.

No one came looking for Jess right away. The school did not reach her mother at work until hours later. By then, Jess had called 9-1-1 on her own. When the police found her, she was sobbing, sitting up in the driveway, rocking herself back and forth. The blood had dripped from the slashes, soaking into her clothes and hair. She had taken off her red shoes, placed next to her backpack.

### Chapter Two

Sonya managed to get on the right bus home, which was driven by a Mr. Wells, who was close to retirement. During the route, Sonya received a tour of the several blocks around her neighborhood, situated near busy Farm Road, also known as M-32.

Marine, a city of almost one hundred and seventy thousand, sprawled across the westernmost edge of the Lake Michigan shoreline. The low standard of life made natives move away; a job at McDonald's or Wal-Mart could not support a family, so only some sense of guilt or obligation could make the young stay. Bill, who was forced into retirement because of the Alzheimer's, had worked in Maintenance at Michigan Paper Products for almost thirty years, but good wages were a thing of the past for most Mariners, the remaining manufacturing jobs paying less than nine dollars an hour.

Aron, following his divorce from Carolyn, had left teaching and took a job as a loan offficer at a bank in Falls River, a city twice the size of Marine, almost forty miles away. Sonya would see her father every other weekend, and he would take her to Bill's house instead of his apartment, although there were few children her age, so Aron or Bill would take her shopping or to a movie, returning Sonya to her mother's house by Sunday afternoon so Aron could drive back to Falls River. If he worked overtime or the weather was icy in winter, Sonya would not see him that weekend.

He always paid his child support on time.

Sonya's stepfather Cal managed to fill in the blanks, and Sonya missed him more than she thought she would.

My whole life is different now, she thought. All I can do is go along.

She regretted becoming angry that morning, but Aron never had much patience with her. She sometimes felt as if she was an unwelcome reminder of his failed marriage to her mother. If she was not around, he could get on with his life, and so could she.

But where is my life? she thought. If I couldn't live with Cal, I have to live with Dad.

Aron lost his job last February. By this time, Bill was retiring and needed someone to help him. Divorced for years, Bill had lived alone. Aron was collecting unemployment checks. He let the lease go on his apartment and moved in with his brother. A few months later, Carolyn passed away, and Cal sent Sonya to live with Aron and Bill.

The bus passed the used car dealerships, the lots empty, along with the gas station/convenience stores dotted along Farm Road. Marine Hardware was across the street from the Devotion Church of God; a large, modern structure, the steeple ended at a white crucifix pointing to the sky. Most people in East Marine attended Devotion, a Christian congregation. However, Sonya was not raised in any church; the adults in her life seemed to have no use for religion.

The bus reached the intersection of Farm Road and turned at Sonya's block, Garland Street. Mr. Wells dropped her off at the end of her driveway, and promised to pick her up there tomorrow around seven-thirty.

Sonya was walking towards her house when she heard voices behind her. She turned to see the pale blond heads of the Four Js on their bicycles, returning from their half-day at East Marine Middle School.

The Four Js were almost-identical quadruplets; Joseph, Joshua, Jason, and Jack(short for Jonathon) Stone. They lived down the street with their widowed mother Barb and big brother Kyle.

Sonya had been spending her summer getting used to living with her father and uncle when she discovered Kyle Stone, who managed to take her mind off her misery.

Sonya's hobby was photography, Carolyn giving her a digital Kodak camera for Christmas. One hot afternoon, Sonya wandered down the street with the camera, intent on getting Kyle to talk to her.

The first time she saw him, he was riding his old ten-speed towards her house with his brothers on their bikes. His hair was brown, curls growing long at the neck, hazel eyes surrounded by dark lashes, lips and face still soft. His smile was teasing but warm, he was making the boys laugh.

Sonya was in the front yard, walking Helga on a leash. The boys waved at her, Kyle following.

Sonya was fascinated in minutes. However, she did not learn Kyle's name until weeks later, when Bill noticed Barb driving by in her old Dodge.

Bill had been on the couch, looking out through the front window, as had become his habit. Sonya sometimes wondered if he was being more watchful because he was starting to forget so much.

"I should go over and see Barb," he said. "Losing a child is hard."

"What child?" Sonya asked.

"Her baby girl. Lily. Barb and Wayne already had Kyle. Wayne was a Blue Diamond. They had all those boys later. Four babies at once. Amazing."

Sonya had found Kyle working underneath his old blue Camaro. He squirmed out from under the car, a look of alarm passing his face when he saw her, camera in hand.

"Hi," he said.

"Hi. I'm Sonya. I live up the street."

"Right. Bill's niece..."

He was not wearing a shirt, only cut-off denim jeans. She noticed the lack of body hair, except around his navel. She caught herself looking down, and her face grew hot. "Can I take a picture of your car?"

Kyle ran his greasy hands through his hair, bangs wet with sweat. "Why do you want to take a picture?"

"I like old cars."

He shrugged. "Go ahead, then."

She lined up the shot and pressed the button. When she turned the lens towards Kyle, she realized he was looking at her.

Sonya was dressed in a loose terry-cloth tank top and knee length shorts with flip-flops. Her hair was in a ponytail. She already had a fading sunburn on her arms, the red skin making way for more freckles. Her looks made her feel different and a little self-conscious. However, she never seemed to care if boys noticed.

Until now.

She decided to smile at him. "So...what do you do?"

"You mean, a job?"

"Right."

"I'm working at Metal Concepts. Third shift."

"You like it there?"

"It's okay."

Sonya could feel him losing interest, so she lowered her camera, taking a step back. "Well, it was nice meeting you."

"Same here."

Sonya felt like a fool later. She wished she could have said more, but what could she say to a boy five years older, who worked full-time, school a part of his past?

Sonya watched the Four Js ride away before walking up to Bill's house, entering through the side door. Helga stopped barking and greeted Sonya, the Boxer's stubby tail wagging.

Helga's sturdy body was white, a brown spot over one eye, the cropped ears also brown. The neck and shoulders were wide, jowls and underbite giving her a falsely vicious look. Helga's nature had calmed with age, but she was still playful and comical, having spent her whole life with Bill, although Sonya was no stranger to the dog, who had finally grown used to new people living in her house.

Sonya pulled her backpack off before petting Helga, who followed Sonya to the kitchen table.

Bill's house was small, resembling a log cabin, a stone chimney to one side, an unattached garage at the other. Sliding glass doors at the dining area led to a wooden deck and a fenced in back yard.

The kitchen was modest, full of Bill's personal charm, with small photographs and mementos on the stainless steel refrigerator. Most of the people in the photos Sonya did not recognize, but there was a studio portrait of Sonya as an infant, wearing a red velvet dress with a lace band around her bald head. She was looking off to the side, her innocent baby-smile frozen in time.

Sonya had noticed that the truck was gone from the driveway, so she was surprised, when she turned the corner, to see Bill standing at his easy chair in front of the TV, the volume low.

The living room, like the rest of the house, was cozy and somewhat cluttered, with yellow sticky notes stuck on the wall by the phone and Helga's toys scattered on the dark green carpet. At first, Sonya thought Bill was putting out a cigarette in an old coffee can, but she soon realized, from the pungent smell, that she was wrong.

Bill grinned, waving the smoke away with his hand. "I didn't hear you come in."

"Where's Dad?"

"Had a job interview." Bill pushed the plastic lid over the coffee can. "Are you hungry?"

"Yes."

"I'll make you a grilled cheese." Sonya followed Bill to the kitchen counter. Bill pulled out bread, butter, and cheese slices from the refrigerator. Aron had told Sonya to watch Bill when he cooked, but he had yet to set a fire or burn himself.

"You want juice or a soda?" he asked.

"I'll get a Dr. Pepper."

Sonya was reaching for a can of Dr. Pepper out of the refrigerator when she heard her cell phone ring in her backpack.

Sonya's ringtone was nothing but the boring 'ring-ring' that was loud enough for her and Bill to hear. She unzipped the backpack as fast as she could and checked who was calling:

CHAMBERS, BOBBY

She had given Bobby her number, but she was surprised he called so soon. "Hello, Bobby..."

"Hi. I just got the news. Crazy."

"What?"

"You don't know about Jessica Holden?"

"Who?"

"Kelly was looking for Jess at school. Some psycho attacked her, cut up her face."

Sonya was watching Bill, with a pancake turner, flip the grilled cheese over on the skillet. "Oh, my God. That's terrible..."

"She was walking out to her bus stop alone and he jumped her. She'll have stitches on her face, and end up with scars. Poor Jess."

"Who would do something like that?"

"I don't know. You live on Garland, right?"

"Yes."

"Jess lives on Warner."

"That's three blocks from here."

"I'm sure they'll catch him, but be careful."

Bill laid the finished grilled cheese on a paper plate, placing it in front of Sonya on the counter before starting a sandwich for himself. He threw Helga a cheese slice, the dog gobbling it in one bite.

"Okay, Bobby. Thanks for calling me."

"You know, Princess likes you. She asked about you."

Sonya was taken aback, thinking Piper seemed more into being seen with Bobby and her little worshippers like Kelly. "That's cool."

"Are you doing anything later?"

"No. Just a little homework."

"Princess invited me over, and she thought you might like to come, too."

"I don't have a way there."

"She lives off of One Hundred and Fiftieth Avenue, near the lake."

"Maybe my dad could give me a ride. I could call you back."

She said good-bye and took a bite of her sandwich, the melted cheese still warm. "Where did Dad go for his interview?"

Bill had his back to her at the stove. He became still, and Sonya realized he was trying to remember. "Um...some agency."

"I hope he gets a job," Sonya said.

"Me, too."

"Maybe he could go back to teaching."

"That's about as likely as a Watchtower reunion tour."

Sonya, the realization dawning on her, broke into a smile. "That'll never happen."

Bill turned around, placing his sandwich on another plate. "One hit wonder. In Germany and the Netherlands. Big in Japan."

"That's what Watchtower should call their reunion CD," Sonya said. "Big in Japan."

Bill tried not to laugh while chewing. "He'll find something, even if he has to commute to Falls River. So...how was school?"

"Okay. My new friend Bobby just called me. A girl from our class was attacked this morning..."

Sonya looked into Bill's eyes, so large and clear, as she explained what happened to Jessica. She did not wonder if Bill would remember any of it hours later, but he was with her then, listening to every word.

*****

While waiting for Aron to return, Sonya opened her lap-top. She clicked on 'My Photos.'

Sonya would usually store the photographs she took. Over the summer, she captured images from visits to the lake and the surrounding woods, along with pictures of Aron, Bill, and Helga. She came to the photos of Carolyn, towards the end of her life; a scarf wrapped around her bald head, once full of thick red hair. She had lost almost thirty pounds, her face gaunt. Carolyn never liked having her picture taken, Sonya would have to sneak up on her. Once, she photographed Carolyn on the couch; bald, wearing a nightgown, the oxygen mask over her face. When Carolyn saw the flash of the Kodak, she said,"I don't want you to remember me like this, Sonya. No more pictures."

She died a week later, her ravaged lungs full of fluid.

Sonya did not look at those photos for long, she was trying hard to push her grief aside, but there was no way she could stop missing her mother. The house where Sonya lived with Carolyn and Cal was on One Hundred and Forty-Seventh Avenue, just a few blocks from Piper and the lake. Sonya had lived in a four-bedroom, two bathroom house. Two of the rooms were hers; one to sleep in, another for her toys and computer. She had been the only child, never knowing any different, spoiled by adults but also a loner. She was Carolyn's miracle baby and Cal's substitute son, going to work with him on Saturdays, Cal the Marine Press's only crime reporter. Carolyn would sometimes object to Cal showing Sonya photos of bloody crime scenes, but Sonya was never disturbed by the images. Cal introduced her to the other writers and police investigators, indirectly learning how crimes were solved.

She was sure Cal had heard about the attack on Jessica by now, and even Bill thought the attacker was a jealous boyfriend.

"Maybe he didn't want anyone else taking her away from him," Bill said. "People do crazy things when they're desperate."

Sonya found the photo of Kyle's Camaro, a few rust stains on the front grille, some scratches on the hood. He did not own any other vehcle, and Kyle would have to work long hours at Metal Concepts to restore that car. Sonya only took one photo of the Camaro, but had managed to capture Kyle's right arm and the side of his head. She sighed and closed the image. She had looked at it several times since, trying to get up the nerve to speak to him again, then telling herself that he was too old for her. He probably already had a girlfriend, buddies his own age, who would kid him about the little girl who was always coming around.

Sonya did not want to be that little girl.

*****

"Where did you find Bill this morning?" Sonya asked.

She was in the truck with Aron, who was taking her to Piper's house. He still wore his work blazer, tie loosened. "He was about a mile from Farm Road, Helga following him."

"Where was he going?"

"Who knows? He was confused, almost started crying when I found him."

"How was your interview?"

"They said they'd call." At fifty-four years old, Aron Neslund never thought he would find himself being interviewed by someone half his age, but that was exactly what happened at Work Staffing. He was given a series of tests on a computer, his resume sent out for temporary clerical jobs.

"Do you ever get money from your songs?" Sonya asked.

Aron's lips twisted in a smile. "Not in a long, long time, Honey."

"Did the record company screw you over?"

"They screwed all of us over. We sued, along with several other acts. I got one big check, used it for school."

Sonya had always been fascinated with her father's past as a musician, although he had not picked up a guitar in years. "How come you didn't join another band?"

"I was tired of it by then. Besides, I was just a bass player."

"George Harrison was a bass player. So is Sting."

"They are _talented_ bass players."

"You wrote songs."

"Where does this girl live?"

Sonya knew he was just changing the subject. "One Hundred and Fiftieth Avenue. By my old house."

Aron turned off Farm Road and on to White Lake Road. "I'm sorry about what happened this morning. Carolyn and Cal used to do a lot for you, they were good parents, but you're going to need to be more responsible from now on. I might get a job, and I don't know about Bill—"

"I take driver's ed next year."

"So?"

"I could help look for Bill."

Aron tried not to laugh, but Sonya could see his smile. "Thanks. But you have school and friends. You'll need to get a job if you want a car. My credit is shot."

"I could get a job now."

"Doing what?" Aron asked.

"Babysitting, cleaning, raking leaves..."

"You didn't mow the lawn all summer."

"The mower was broken."

He shrugged. "That mower is a piece of crap." He cruised up to the intersection between White Lake and One Hundred and Fiftieth. "Do I turn left or right?"

"I don't know."

"What's the address again?"

"13350."

"I think that's going right. What do you know about this girl?"

"She's friends with Bobby. She has a lot of friends."

"And they all know the girl who was attacked?" Aron asked.

Sonya had explained about what happened to Jessica when Aron returned home. "They all know each other from the middle school."

"It's good you're making friends."

"Jessica lives on Warner."

"I'll get up with you in the morning, make sure you get on the bus safe."

"Do you think another girl could get attacked?"

"Maybe." Aron slowed down to check the numbers on the mailboxes, then sped up until he reached the corner of One Hundred and Fiftieth and Brooks. "There it is."

A large, two-story white house with blue trim loomed on a hill. The red roof was peaked and a wrap-around porch ended at an attached, two-car garage.

Aron cruised up the long, paved driveway. "Nice place. I wonder what Piper's parents do for a living."

### Chapter Three

Piper greeted Sonya at the door, a white toy poodle in her arms. She was still in her blue T-shirt and jeans, but now barefoot, toenails painted pink.

Sonya entered the foyer. The walls were a light blue with a grandfather clock in the corner and a chandelier above them, the spiral staircase in a dark wood leading upstairs.

"Bobby and I are hanging out in the living room," Piper said. "This is Jo-Jo."

Piper laid the poodle on the floor, and the dog did a little dance on its hind legs, showing off for guests. Helga could knock over a lamp attempting the same thing, and Sonya was taken with Jo-Jo's daintiness and grace.

She followed Piper into a spacious living room with a fireplace and suede furniture the color of chocolate. Another small room contained a picture window, a white piano close by. A painted portrait of a blonde little girl in a pink tutu, her hair pinned up, hands clasped in front of her, took up space above the fireplace, a large screen TV on the next wall. Bobby was sitting at a sofa, a MacBook open in front of him on the coffee table.

He looked up. "Hi, Sonya." He was dressed in the same T-shirt and jeans, but without the red neckerchief. "Did you check on the Blue and White today?"

"Never heard of it."

"The Blue and White blog is the unofficial blog of East Marine High School. Good or bad, it's on here."

Sonya looked at the page Bobby was reading. The header was in blue and white, the school colors, and the most recent thread was entitled, "Sexy Rexy Spreads The Love."

A photo showed a handsome, baby-faced boy in a tuxedo, a happy grin on his face, surrounded by his friends.

Sonya read the entry:

"Rex Gerber has done it again. By the time he graduates, he will be a father for the second time. The other baby isn't two years old yet, you'd think Rex had figured out how to put on a condom, but sophomore Amanda Cooper will be showing by Christmastime. Rex doesn't have enough room in his locker for another baby, maybe his parents' medical insurance could cover a vasectomy..."

Bobby chuckled. "Scandal sheet, but it's nothing the other kids aren't already talking about."

"It's only funny until you end up on it," Piper said. "Anyone is fair game."

Bobby nodded. "Some of them will do something stupid just hoping SkolClik will write about them."

"Who's SkolClik?" Sonya asked.

"Nobody knows," Bobby said. "I think he's a junior or a senior. The blog has only been up for the last year."

"I'm surprised nothing has been mentioned about Jessica," Piper said.

"Give it time."

"She's still in the hospital."

"Did Jessica have a boyfriend?" Sonya asked.

"She never mentioned it."

"It could be any guy," Bobby said.

"He seemed to know when she was leaving her house," Sonya said. "I think he planned it."

"I'm sure the police will question every guy in the neighborhood." Bobby looked back at the screen. "Here it is..."

They all read the new entry:

"Freshman Slashing

Jessica Holden was leaving her home in East Marine this morning when she was attacked, her face cut up. Police are investigating. More info later."

"The police will be watching her," Sonya said. "And I'm sure the paper already knows about it."

"Would they want to print some big article?" Bobby asked.

Sonya shrugged. "Maybe. My step-dad, Cal Whistler, is a crime reporter for the Marine Press. He used to take me to work with him sometimes, before my mom died. He knew some of the local police."

"What did your mom do?" Piper asked.

"She was a teacher for awhile. That's how she met my dad."

"Your dad is a teacher?"

"Used to be. He worked for a bank in Falls River until last year. Now he goes on job interviews and looks after my Uncle Bill. He has Alzheimer's disease."

"Is he really old?"

"He's sixty-four, and Alzheimer's before seventy is considered early-onset. It runs in families. My Grandfather Aron also had it, and so could my dad someday."

Bobby looked to Piper. "We're no strangers to mental illness..."

"Bobby's brother Rick is bi-polar," Piper said.

"He's a jerk, medicated or not." Bobby shut the lap-top. "He's moved back in."

Piper looked surprised. "Oh, I'm sorry."

"So am I. And he's off his meds. Mom's working overtime, so I get the pleasure of his company."

"Is he working?"

"Not anymore. I wish he could get a check every month, we could keep him in some apartment on the other side of town." Bobby sighed, putting the lap-top aside. "Let's show Sonya some of your toys, Princess."

"I'll get my X-Box. I can hook it up down here."

Bobby grinned. "Rock Band-The Beatles. I get to be Paul."

Piper had walked away, heading for upstairs. "You're always Paul."

"You're always John. That leaves Sonya with George or Ringo."

Sonya was reminded of what Aron said about George Harrison being a talented bass player. She wondered what Piper and Bobby would think of her dad being in a band that had a hit in Germany and the Netherlands over thirty years ago. "I don't mind. George or Ringo."

*****

Sonya stayed at Piper's house longer than expected, the time almost seven when Aron picked her up.

She took her cell phone to her room, wanting to call Cal, although she had not spoken to him since she moved in with Aron and Bill.

Sonya's last days in the home she had shared with Cal and her mother consisted of hurtful silences and arguments. With her mother's death, Sonya had been hanging on to the pieces of her life that still remained, and Cal thought she did not understand when he explained that the medical insurance refused to cover all of the expense for Carolyn's cancer treatments and that selling the house was the only way out. With his credit damaged, Cal had to sublet his apartment from a friend, because no one would let him rent in his own name.

"Why can't I live with you at your apartment?" Sonya had asked.

"It's a one-bedroom, and Aron wants you to live with him. I think it's the right time," Cal said.

"What if I refuse?"

"Where are you going to go? Sonya, this hurts me, too, but you need someone to take care of you."

"You've always taken care of me."

"I can't now, and Aron deserves the chance."

She found Cal's number in her phone and dialed.

"Hello?"

Sonya could imagine Cal, with his open, cheerful face, sitting in his small office at the Marine Press building. He had lost more weight and hair, only a fringe of dark brown around his head, wearing a dark green Michigan State University sweatshirt. "Hi, Cal. It's Sonya."

"Hey! How's it going?"

"I'm good. I went back to school today."

"Make new friends?"

"A few. How are you?"

"Just working. Started playing golf again. How's that Bill and Aron?"

"Dad's still looking for work and Uncle Bill is...okay."

"He's not getting worse, is he?"

"No. The meds help. Cal, have you heard anything about a girl named Jessica Holden?"

"The girl who was attacked?"

"Yes. She's a classmate of mine."

"I don't think she's been released from the hospital. The mother did not want to comment. My source at the police department told me that the neighborhood is being canvassed, every male accounted for with alibis."

"A boyfriend?"

"Who knows? Boys get jealous, girls get jealous of other girls..."

"Are the police convinced that the attacker is a guy?" Sonya asked.

"Almost convinced, after a description of the attack by the girl." She heard Cal sigh. "Is Aron there?"

"Why?"

"I'd like to speak to him."

"He's busy."

"You're a bad liar, Sonya. Have you and Aron talked about the attack?"

"Yes. Why?"

"Then he will want you to be careful until this psycho is caught. Don't hang around the neighborhood alone."

"Why would I do that?"

"You're too independent, always have been. Don't just take off on your bicycle. Get a ride."

"Okay. Cal?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm sorry I was so difficult."

"It was a difficult time."

"I still miss her. Dad doesn't care."

"He does, but they were divorced a long time ago."

"Why did they try for ten years to have a baby, only to get divorced by the time I was two years old? I can't ask him about stuff like that, he gets quiet."

"You have to be patient. Some people don't like to talk about the past, it's too painful."

"I feel like he doesn't trust me."

"You did very poor in school last year, you're lucky you were placed in the ninth grade. You missed half the school year, doing your homework whenever you wanted."

"At the hospital. Why did I have to care about school if Mom was so sick?"

"I can't answer that, Sonya. But just go to school everyday and get good grades this year. I know you can do it."

"I feel older compared to the other kids. Tonight, I was hanging out with my new friends. They were having fun. I was, too, but then I started feeling like a stranger, like I didn't belong."

"Give it time. You're still sad, but it gets easier. Are you eating? Sleeping?"

"Yes, but—"

"Keep doing it. I get up everyday and come to work, because I would feel worse if I didn't."

"Are you all through with your bankruptcy?"

"Yes. I am now free to rebuild my credit, which means taking a second job."

"Doing what?"

"I'm not sure. Something part-time."

"Dad went to Work Staffing."

"Everyone's favorite temp agency. I wish him luck."

"I'm glad you're not mad at me."

"Never. I want you to call me more often. Maybe we can go to lunch or a movie sometime, okay?"

"I'd like that."

"So would I. I have to get back to work, but we'll talk soon."

*****

Sonya was in bed asleep by ten. Aron and Bill were watching TV in the living room when the phone rang.

Aron answered. "Hello?"

"Aron, this is Cal. I spoke to Sonya tonight. She called me."

Aron was silent for a moment, and Cal could imagine the cold disapproval on his handsome face. "I don't have a problem with her calling you..."

Cal was unconvinced, but he continued. "Neither do I, just with some of the things she told me. I think you need to talk to her more."

"About what?"

"About living there with you and Bill. I don't think she knows, but if she asks, do you want me to tell her?"

"I think it's more my responsibility..."

Aron was keeping his voice even, that trace of his remaining accent making Cal feel as if he were in a movie, negotiating with the European terrorist who had his finger on the button. "I agree. But she still seems depressed."

"She's doing better now. She smiles more, she eats. We do talk, but only about certain things."

"She asked me about Jessica Holden, if I knew anything."

"It's too early, I would think."

"Right."

"So...how are you doing?" Aron asked.

"Oh, fine. The bankruptcy went through, and the paper is going to hang on for another year."

"Who ever thought the Marine Press would go out of business?"

"Around for over a hundred years, but nothing lasts forever."

"That's for sure."

"Sonya told me you went to Work Staffing."

"I walked in there, and it was like a tomb, so silent. When someone finally noticed I was there, they parked me in front of a computer and gave me all of these tests. Then they asked if I wanted to take a special course in their office software, charging me over two hundred dollars. I told them to call me later."

"It's tough out there."

Aron glanced over at Bill, who was asleep in his chair. "Bill is taking care of us both."

"Funny how things work out."

"Bill never would have refused."

"I wonder if he remembers."

"Oh, he does."

"Would he—"

"He could one of these days. He's always been a little unpredictable."

"Carolyn said that he never made any demands..."

"More out of guilt than compassion. But he wanted to be unselfish."

"I understand."

"You did an unselfish thing, too, Cal."

"I just want Sonya to be happy."

"She will be. After awhile

*****

Jessica was not a high-spirited girl, and her passive personality was never more obvious than after she was admitted to Marine General Hospital.

Her mother, Ann-Marie, who had taken some medication to stay calm, sat in a chair in Jess's room. As soon as she received the call, her boss at the realty office let her leave. Her worst fears, of rape and assault, went through her head as she drove the almost-twenty miles from her job back to Marine and the hospital.

Jess had been sitting on a bed in the Emergency Room, the cuts not yet stitched. Ann-Marie hugged her, relieved she was conscious, but Jess was strangely calm and silent, having been given a pain killer.

Ann-Marie called Jess's father, but not before the police appeared, wanting to ask Jess questions and take photos of her cuts. She tried to communicate clearly, but the shock and medication was blocking her memory. The men left, and Jess endured the stitches and dressings before being transferred to a room.

A tray was brought to her, but she did not eat. Ann-Marie opened the window blind, and they both watched the sun set.

"You're mad at me," Jess said.

Ann-Marie shook her head. "No, of course not."

"You're going to hate the scars."

"I'm just glad you're alive. He didn't rape you..."

"What difference would that make?" Jess asked.

"More scars."

"I can't go to school looking like this."

"You can stay home tomorrow, but you'll have to go back."

"Nobody I know did this."

"How can you be so sure?"

"Who would hate me this much?"

"I don't know, Sweetie. But the police will find him."

Jess started to make a keening noise inside her bandages, a low sob that turned to loud crying. Ann-Marie gave her a tissue, patting her on the back. Jess had never cried so hard, not even during her parents' divorce last year. This pain was intimate, more personal, than whatever dumb decisions the adults around her made. She was never as pretty as Piper Jones or even made the Honor Roll, but now she felt as if she could not even try to be a part of things without them all looking at her face. She would be on the outside, alone, like the kids in Special Ed or Todd Kemp, the school drug dealer, who weighed almost three hundred pounds and had to use a Hoveround to get from class to class.

Ann-Marie took Jess's hand. When she did this, she noticed that the birthstone ring Jess's late great-grandmother had given Jess was missing. She and her Granny Rae shared the same birthstone, the May emerald, and Jess would never lose that ring, but maybe it fell off during the attack.

Ann-Marie did not want to upset Jess more, so she said nothing as the girl laid down, going to sleep. Over the next few weeks, she would take the pain medication until it was gone, wanting more. Ann-Marie would refuse to renew the prescription, and Jess would buy Methadone from Todd at school with her allowance. Getting through the days not feeling anything would help her forget her loss; of her looks, innocence, interest in school and her friends. If she did not have money, she would trade her CDs, cell phone, and lap-top, with the excuse that these things had been stolen.

Ann-Marie knew Jess did not have the strength to get through this, she was still like a little girl in the world her parents and school had created for her. Ann-Marie realized she had let Jess down, because she had never prepared her, believing that Jess's upbringing would be different from her own; less fearful, less abusive. Jess never gave her any problems, so raising her had been easy. Now, Ann-Marie could feel a chill come over her as she thought about Jess's future, and if she had the will to survive.

### Chapter Four

"Thanks for coming with me," Piper said.

Sonya looked around Jess's front yard while standing at the porch of the white ranch house with black trim. She was gazing down the gravel driveway where Jess was attacked. "No problem..."

When Piper had asked Sonya to accompany her on a visit to Jess's house after school, Sonya could not quite figure out why Piper asked her in the first place, aside from the fact that Bobby had a dentist's appointment. Piper could have asked Kelly or Courtney, but Sonya had a feeling they also begged off.

Piper knocked at the door and Ann-Marie was still in her work suit, dark hair pulled into a bun. Her gaze was not warm.

"Mrs. Holden?" Piper asked. "Jess invited us over."

Ann-Marie looked over Piper in her long, gray pullover sweater with a heart-shaped neckline and black leggings, a leather belt at her waist. She noticed the tall blonde was much more made up than the red-head next to her, wearing a blue sweatshirt and jeans.

Ann-Marie sighed. "Well, come on in."

Piper and Sonya entered the small foyer that led to the living room. Piper and Sonya were taken aback by the thick, flesh-colored bandages wrapped around Jess's face, her upper and lower lips full with dark stitches. She was laying on the couch. A white-haired woman in an easy chair sat next to her.

"Hi, Jess," Piper said.

Jess opened her eyes, and both girls realized she had been asleep. "Oh, hi..."

"This is Sonya. She's new at school. I asked her to come with me."

"Hi, Sonya. I look hideous, don't I?"

The old lady in the chair chuckled. "The bandages cover it, dear."

"This is my Gramma Joan," Jess said.

The girls said hello to Joan and Ann-Marie, who was already reaching for her briefcase and keys.

"I have an open house," she said. "I'll be back later, Jess."

"How are houses selling around here?" Sonya asked.

"It's getting better. This one is at Whispering Pines, and there's been people in and out all day."

"Mom almost had to go back to being a manager at Chuck E. Cheese," Jess said.

Ann-Marie shook her keys at Jess. "Good to see you're getting your sense of humor back."

"I'd smile, but it might open the stitches."

"Have you heard from the police?" Piper asked.

"They were here this morning."

Ann-Marie walked out, and Jess stayed silent until the door was shut. "I got an e-mail, and Mom freaked out and called them."

"What did it say?" Piper asked.

"I'll show you." Jess slowly rose from the couch, and Sonya noticed how the gauze was wrapped around her head to keep the bandages in place over the stitches. Sonya recognized the slur in her speech; Carolyn sounded the same way when she was taking pain killers.

Sonya and Piper followed Jess to the kitchen, where a lap-top rested on the counter near the stove. Jess opened the computer and accessed her e-mail.

"The detective had me forward him a copy," she said. "But he didn't want me to delete the original yet."

"What was the detective's name?" Sonya asked.

"Um...Garcia. Some old guy."

Sonya remembered Detective Ben Garcia, but she stayed silent as she started to read the e-mail:

"Jessica–

I got so hot while cutting into your face; the soft, sweet skin yielding to my cold, hard blade. I had to keep my self-control for the sake of my quest, although I could have licked every drop of blood from your face.

I put your ring in my mouth when I touch myself.

Your Ravisher."

"Oh, Jess. This is _sick_ ," Piper said.

"I know it's him. Who else would know about my ring?" Jess asked.

"Can't the police trace the e-mail?" Piper asked.

"Only from the address," Sonya said. "But if he's using someone else's, he could be hard to find that way."

"He could be miles away," Jess said.

Sonya shook her head. "I don't think so. He planned this; he knew what time you left your house for the bus stop, and that you would be alone. I'm not sure why he chose you, but he could just be getting started."

"Don't say that," Piper said.

"I'm sorry, but why plan unless he doesn't want to get good at it? Why would he want to get caught after attacking only one girl?"

"Judging by the e-mail, he seemed to enjoy it."

"Right. And he'll want another chance."

Piper turned to Jess. "When do you plan to go back to school?"

"Tomorrow. I already have work to make up."

"My mom can give you a ride."

"My gramma's going to take me for awhile." Jess shut the computer. "I have to look like this at school..."

"Don't worry," Piper said. "No one is going to bother you."

"I don't want them feeling sorry for me."

"We only want you to be all right and for the police to catch this guy," Piper said.

"I'm sure they're doing everything they can," Sonya said.

"You seem tired, Jess," Piper said. "If you want to rest, we can go."

Jess agreed and Piper called her mom. Jess was dozing off on the couch when Robin Jones arrived.

"Nice meeting you, Jess," Sonya said.

She yawned. "Thanks. I really hope another girl isn't attacked."

"Me, too. I have a feeling a lot of girls won't be waiting for the bus alone."

****

"Has Jess seen the Blue and White today?" Bobby asked.

"She didn't mention it," Piper said.

Piper and Sonya were in the back seat of the SUV while Robin drove Sonya back to her house.

Piper still had her backpack from school and pulled out the MacBook with one hand while holding on to her cell phone. Sonya helped her, placing the computer in her lap.

"Go on the Blue and White," Piper said.

Sonya went to the site and Piper sat closer. "What damage is SkolClik doing today?"

"Jess doesn't need to see this," Bobby said.

Piper and Sonya took one look at the entry, and their eyes widened. The heading read:

"Slasher Victim-Coming To A Theatre Near You."

Below, a photo from a black and white horror movie featuring the Mummy, its head wrapped in bandages.

"That's cruel," Piper said.

"Are you seeing it?" Bobby asked.

"Somebody needs to kick SkolClik's ass," Sonya said.

The entry read:

"Freshman and slasher victim Jessica Holden has been seeing visitors, and the damage could be permanent. I know exactly what the other cheerleading camp girls are thinking(one of their names rhymes with Wiper Bones): "Better her than me. I don't want to go to school with my face looking like a pound of raw hamburger, try-outs are coming up..."

Sonya looked up to see Piper's face, blue eyes cold with rage. "I'd never think that. I'm not mean—"

"I know that, Princess," Bobby said. "You went to see her because you care. SkolClik doesn't know you at all."

"He knows my name, and he's dragging me into his nasty blog."

"How would SkolClik know we were at Jess's house?" Sonya asked. She shut the computer, not bothering to read the comments left by other readers. "Is someone watching?"

"That's creepy," Piper said.

"What's creepy?" Bobby asked.

"I thought you had to go to the dentist."

"Just a cleaning. I was back in an hour."

"Sonya thinks we were being watched."

"That is creepy."

"I wonder who else looks at this blog," Sonya said. "Besides the students at Marine."

"Anyone can," Piper said. "You don't need a password to read the entries. What are you thinking, Sonya?"

She shrugged. "Nothing, I guess. I'm just wondering how Jess's attacker could get her e-mail address."

"Maybe she posted it somewhere else, another site."

"Like what?" Sonya asked.

"She has a FriendsRing page. So do I."

"What are you telling her about FriendsRing?" Bobby asked.

Piper ignored him, pulling the phone away from her ear. "It's like Facebook. And all of us are on Twitter."

Sonya had never put up a Facebook page and did not even have a Twitter account.

"Let me show you my FriendsRing page," Piper said.

She held the phone between her ear and shoulder while accessing the FriendsRing site, the MacBook switched to her lap. "Bobby, go on FriendsRing."

"Okay, hang on. What are you showing her?"

"Sonya thinks the slasher may have been cyberstalking Jess. He sent her a disgusting e-mail."

"I've never put my e-mail addresses on my page."

"Neither have I, but maybe Jess did."

Sonya looked over Piper's FriendsRing page, a pink background and floral border announcing her age(15), astrological sign(Leo), her favorite movies(Enchanted), books(the Twilight saga), food(Italian), and music(Lady Gaga). She could play piano and included a photo of herself with Jo-Jo. She had made over two hundred friends since her page went up four months ago.

"You always get some perverts," she said. "But if you ignore them, they go away. I'm careful who I contact."

"Did Jess meet someone who could have contacted her? Some guy?" Sonya asked.

"I'm sure the police would have asked her that."

"Probably, but how many people get on these pages everyday? How can it be narrowed down?"

"You don't always have to use the same photo or screen name, either."

"People can hide."

"Are you hearing this, Bobby?" Piper asked.

"I even get pervs on my page," he said. "Dirty old men."

Robin, an older, plumper version of Piper, called to the back seat. "Are you getting a ride to school, Sonya?"

"My dad is taking me, or he'll go with me to the bus stop."

"I'm taking Piper every morning until this guy is found. He's going to face at least five years for aggravated assault."

Aron had wondered what Piper's parents did for a living, and Sonya found out that they were both lawyers. Robin had her own practice in Marine. Piper's father was now a partner at a large firm in Falls River, where he lived with his new wife, Piper's parents divorced long ago.

Sonya's initial impression of Robin Jones was as a hard-working woman who gave Piper everything from expensive clothes to piano lessons. Sonya felt a twinge of jealousy until she realized that Piper was usually alone in her big house unless she was at school or out with her friends. Also, Piper did not seem to have much to say to her mother except for polite exchanges.

"Can you take me to Jess's page?" Sonya asked.

Jess used yellow shading and a blue floral border to contain all of her interests and new friends with a photo of herself taken at cheerleading camp, holding her pompoms in front of her, ponytail swinging. This girl was nothing like the Jess they left on the couch, drugged and depressed.

"She doesn't give out any addresses on here," Piper said. "Not even her Twitter account."

"She has over six hundred friends," Sonya said.

"Her page has been up for the past year."

"This is the wrong place to look, it's like a masqued ball."

"No one is what they seem," Piper said. "But anyone on FriendsRing can print up a list of their friends. I can, Bobby could, even Jess."

"I wonder if the police have a list of Jess's friends."

"Bobby, print a list of your friends."

"Why?"

"Sonya wants to study it."

"I do?" Sonya asked.

"Why would the police want a copy of Jess's friends if they won't be able to track down most of them?" Piper asked.

"To see who was posting the most," Bobby said.

"What else?"

Sonya smiled as the realization dawned on her. "To compare it to someone else's list. A suspect they might find..."

Piper nodded. "I can print my list and send it to your e-mail. Bobby and Jess can do the same thing."

"Good idea. I've got homework, but I can look over the lists later."

*****

Sonya noticed a familiar vehicle, a old VW Bug, pass Robin's SUV, the driver a small older woman with dark hair.

Aunt Sue? Sonya thought. I haven't seen her since Mom's funeral.

When Sonya entered the house, she found Aron sitting at the table, reading the Marine Press want ads.

"I saw Aunt Sue in her car," she said.

Aron nodded. "She was here. Bad news."

"What?"

"Her cancer has come back. In the other breast now."

Sonya's lip curled into a sneer. "I hate cancer."

"She might be all right. More surgery, but the doctor found it early."

Bill was sitting in the living room with Helga, watching the news.

"When was the last time I spoke to her?" he asked.

"At Carolyn's funeral," Aron said.

"Before then."

"Not in years."

"Nine, I think. Didn't have much to say to each other..."

"Divorce is like that." Aron pushed the newspaper away. "I'll start dinner."

Sonya watched him go to the refrigerator, pulling out a package of chicken.

"She just came here to tell you about her cancer?" Sonya asked.

"She mentioned Tara, and how much they miss you and Carolyn. Your mother used to take Sue to her cancer treatments. Ironic, huh?"

"What's Tara doing?"

"Nothing, like usual. Sue has helped raise Kaitlyn, but Tara still goes out to the bars. Sue thinks she might be pregnant again." Aron opened the cupboard above the stove, taking out a bottle of cooking oil. "If Sue gets too sick, Tara will have to take the responsibility."

"I can't believe she's having another baby," Sonya said. "She's thirty now, right?"

"Thirty-three. Kaitlyn's almost seventeen."

"I haven't seen Kaitlyn at school."

"She would be a senior now." Aron set the frying pan on the stove. "Sue would like you to visit sometime."

"Are Tara and Kaitlyn still living with her?"

"And Tara's boyfriend. He's a Blue Diamond named Axel. Charming." He started to unwrap the chicken. "Bill! Didn't Sue say she wanted to sell her house?"

"Tara and her biker want Sue to sell so they can move into a bigger one," Bill replied. "But I know that woman, she won't let Tara fill her head full of crap."

"That's for sure," Aron said. "It's Sue's way or the highway."

Sonya was no stranger to Aron and Bill's remarks about how jealous and controlling Sue could be during her marriage to Bill, including trying to keep him from writing or sending money to his son John, after his first wife Elke returned with John to her native Sweden.

Bill sighed. "I worked on that house all summer. Remember, Aron?"

"I remember tearing up that old floor. Helping you put on a new roof."

"The work never ended. Took a year to remodel that place."

Sonya took her backpack and entered the hallway that led to her attic room. She had spent the summer trying to make the small space more comfortable, finding matching lacy curtains and a coverlet for her futon. A small dresser was shoved in one corner, a fuzzy pink rug covered the floor.

She sat at the futon, thinking about how she went for years never feeling like the adults around her were treating her like a fool.

Dad could stand there and criticize Aunt Sue and Tara, she thought, but at least they don't lie to their children. Kaitlyn knows what kind of person her mother is, Tara doesn't try to hide it.

Sonya could have kept her suspicions buried, but all of that changed when she happened to overhear something her mother said to Sue over the phone two years ago:

"If it gets any worse, I'm going to hit Bill up for another loan. I mean, I never demanded child support from him..."

Carolyn and Cal had been married for years and Aron was paying support. However, money was always tight, and Carolyn had wanted to quit teaching for years. She was starting to feel ill with the early symptoms of her cancer, and one of her students had threatened her, trying to run her off the road while she and Sonya were returning home from a movie one night.

Sonya later realized that she never asked because she did not want to know the answer.

Does it even matter now? she thought. Uncle Bill might not care, maybe he never did. I'm lucky Dad wants me around, especially in this house.

Sonya pulled her algebra book out of her backpack. She had a full page of linear problems to solve, as well as reading a chapter in her history book about Alexander the Great.

She finished the algebra before Aron called her down for dinner.

She sat at the small table with Aron and Bill, Helga close by, patiently waiting for a bit of chicken. Her big brown eyes moved to Bill, then his plate, as he took each bite.

Sonya took the bowl of mashed potatoes from Aron, spooning a small pile on to her plate, then passing the bowl to Bill. She took some green beans and bread. Aron poured her a glass of milk.

Bill tossed a piece of meat at Helga, who gobbled it, her jowls barely moving. "Good chicken, Aron."

"Thanks."

Sonya gazed at her father and uncle while she ate, trying to catch some expression, but she only saw two men who were brothers long before they became husbands or fathers, and Sonya could not help but feel like an intruder, even if she deserved to know the truth.

### Chapter Five

Bobby did as Piper asked, and printed a copy of his FriendsRing friends list. He was sure to shove the copy in his backpack the night before.

He dressed that morning in a blue argyle sweater over a white shirt along with a black bowtie. His was hair was still damp, parted to one side, bangs drying on his forehead. When he entered the kitchen of the two-bedroom apartment he shared with his mother Delia, he found Rick laying on the couch, the TV on mute. Rick's eyes were glued to the Today show.

"Rick?"

He did not move.

Bobby sighed. "Mom wants you to go to the store. We need milk and Tide."

Rick turned his head, eyes bloodshot. "With what?"

"You got your unemployment yesterday."

Bobby, out of habit, took a step back as soon as Rick started to stir from the couch. Rick and Bobby both had the same blond father, but Rick had inherited Delia's olive skin, brown eyes, and thick black hair. Rick would have been handsome if the drugs and depression were not dragging him down, along with his two hundred-plus pound weight.

He reached for his gray sweat pants and pulled out his wallet. He extracted a twenty dollar bill, throwing it to the other end of the old coffee table. "You go..."

Bobby gripped his cell phone, making sure it was close when he felt an argument with Rick coming. Threatening to call 9-1-1 was sometimes the only way to get him to back off. "Mom paid for your medication, you owe her seventy bucks."

"I'll give it to her, okay? Go to school, you little bitch."

Rick resumed his position on the couch. Bobby picked up his backpack and walked out of the apartment.

*****

Bobby lived at Lakeshore Apartments, in one of several units. He walked to the front of the main building to his bus stop.

Bobby caught the bus with two other high schoolers, a year older than him. Both boys were silent when he approached. Bobby was used to silent scorn, the name calling(fag! twink!)only coming when he got on the bus. Last year, the bus driver, Mrs. Young, called Delia and asked her if Bobby had another way to school. When Delia said no, Mrs. Young explained that she could not control the other kids on the bus when Bobby was a passenger.

Delia replied,"That is your problem."

Bobby did not pay attention to the police cruiser as he was checking his messages. Piper had called him, but he could wait. The other two boys stared as the black and white cruiser, bearing 'Marine County Police Department' on each side, came to a stop.

The boys said nothing as a female officer emerged from the car in uniform, silver hair cut short. She was tall and heavy, showing the boys her cheerful smile behind the pale blue gaze. "Good morning."

The boys nodded a nervous hello.

"Hi, Aunt Sharon," Bobby said.

Sharon was married to Delia's Uncle Tommy, and had been a police officer for almost thirty years.

She approached Bobby, who was not embarrassed to speak to his aunt around kids his age, as if he would ever bargain for their approval. "What's up?"

Sharon shrugged. "We're just keeping an eye out since that girl was attacked. Do any girls your age wait out here with you?"

"No."

"Any in the neighborhood?"

"At other stops."

"How's Ricky doing?"

"He's all right. Back on his meds."

"Good. Is he at home?"

"I left him on the couch."

She nodded. "I'll go see him. Have a good day at school."

She walked off, her bulk swaying, radio at her waist crackling.

Sharon had witnessed a few of Rick's melt-downs in the past, taking him into custody once when he pointed a gun at Delia, Bobby locking himself in the bathroom to call Sharon. Rick spent a few days at the hospital, his medication given with injections. Once, he punched Bobby in the mouth, knocking out a tooth. In those days, going to school for Bobby was an escape, no matter how much teasing he had to put with, and the bullying was nothing compared to living with his brother.

Bobby was still watching Sharon when the bus arrived. He could not shake the feeling that Sharon was not just checking up, but wanted to ask Rick about something. His ex-girlfriend, Ashley, had filed a restraining order, but Rick was staying away from her. Ashley had relatives who were Blue Diamonds, and Rick always had his friends in the club.

Bobby got on the bus, but his fellow passengers hardly noticed him, they were too busy talking about Jess, who was returning to school today.

*****

Jess could have spent more time at home, but Ann-Marie saw no point in letting her hide. Jess needed a push sometimes, but she made sure to take an extra Vicodin from her mother's medicine cabinet before leaving for school, storing a few more in her pocket.

Gramma Joan dropped her off at school, leaving Jess to walk across the yard alone, everyone predictably watching as she walked up the stairs. She kept her eyes down, head and most of her face covered with a hood. The calming effect of the painkiller was kicking in, and she even smiled by the time her friends, including Piper, approached her in the hallway, surrounding like a protective cloud until she went to her first class, Algebra I.

Sonya and Bobby were already seated, and the room went silent when Jess entered. She immediately found her seat, her head down.

Mr. Yates was the last to enter before the final bell. He glanced at Jess for a moment, then grabbed an erasable marker from the board.

"Everyone open your books to Chapter One, page eight..."

*****

Piper ate her lunch with Jess and the other girls while Sonya and Bobby sat at a nearby table.

Bobby had given Sonya his FriendsRing friends list, along with Piper's and Jess's. Sonya looked over the sheets of paper while eating her sandwich. "This could take awhile..."

"Couldn't the guy who e-mailed her be anyone who found out about the attack?" Bobby asked.

"He mentioned her ring. No one knew it was taken from her finger during the attack. Even Jess didn't remember at first."

"Why would he take her ring?"

"Because he wants to feel connected to her long after the attack."

"That's sick."

Sonya nodded, taking a sip of milk. "That's why I think he's not going to stop until he gets caught."

"Why are you so interested in this? I mean, why not just leave it to the cops?"

Bobby bit into an apple and Sonya took that moment to think about her answer. "People shouldn't be allowed to keep secrets that hurt other people. My step-dad taught me that every unsolved crime is like a puzzle, and the pieces can be found in the little details, like Jess's ring. Or the cuts on her face. I wouldn't be surprised if the detective took photos of the cuts to try to figure out what brand of knife he used."

"That sounds like CSI."

"But tracking down the knife used would be like trying to find who sent Jess that e-mail. A needle in a haystack."

"My aunt is a cop," Bobby said. "She came around this morning, asking if any girls wait for the bus at my stop."

Bobby went on to explain about Sharon wanting to speak to Rick. "He once threatened to burn Ashley's face with acid. He says he's been leaving her alone since the restraining order was filed, but I'm not sure I believe him..."

"You think he's a suspect?" Sonya asked.

"Or maybe one of his friends. He hangs out with some guys in the Blue Diamonds."

"Does Rick have a record?"

"Since he was fifteen. He was arrested for molesting our cousin, who was five. He was diagnosed as bi-polar around that time and Mom had to practically shove the medication down his throat. I'm five years younger, so I've just put up with it. When he's living on his own, it's easier."

"Does he work?"

"Sometimes. He had a job at the mall over the summer."

"Bobby?"

He turned, Piper behind him. "I know I said I'd go to the library with you, but Jess wants me to hang out with her after school."

"That's fine," Bobby said. "I've got shopping and laundry to do. I won't be surprised if I'm making dinner, too."

"Does your mom work long hours?" Sonya asked as Piper turned to the other table.

He nodded. "She works at Forge Plastics. On the machines."

"My Aunt Sue works there. She's the third shift supervisor."

"I'm hoping to get a job there this summer. Maybe Mom will stop treating me like a wife."

"Do they hire kids?"

"Sometimes for part-time jobs if they're sixteen or older. Metal Concepts does the same thing."

The early bell rang, Jess leaving her table with Piper and her other friends. Sonya thought the girls were kind for helping Jess, but Sonya knew that if Jess had less popular friends, she would be getting through the day alone.

A group of older boys walked past, wearing their East Marine High School blue and white jackets. They glanced at Sonya and Bobby, their gaze staying on Bobby and his bow-tie. One of them giggled, an incredulous look on his pock-marked face, as if he had never seen anyone like Bobby before.

Sonya stared the boy down. He did not miss her hard gaze, and one of the other boys pushed him away. This boy had very short hair and dark eyes, his features soft. When he stepped away, Sonya noticed a pretty, dark-haired girl standing by one of the vending machines, stuffing a bottle of soda into her backpack.

Sonya recognized the girl as her cousin Kaitlyn, Sue's granddaughter.

*****

Sonya was passed by the Four Js on their bikes after she exited the bus.

"Mom wants you to come to the house," Jack said.

Sonya followed the boys to the red, one-story, home that could barely contain Barb, Kyle, and the quadruplets.

Barb was in the kitchen when Sonya entered. Barb had the same thick, curly brown hair as Kyle, a thin figure encased in tight jeans and a sleeveless black T-shirt. She was in her early forties, but her face was weathered from smoking and stress. However, her gaze was kind, the type of woman who had known abuse and mistreatment, but tried to stay good. Her husband Wayne had died years ago, but Sonya was not sure how.

"Thanks for stopping by," Barb said. She pulled her hair away from her face, and Sonya wondered how such a small woman could carry four babies at once. "I was wondering if you could babysit Friday night."

"I can. No problem."

"Great. The club-house is doing a charity benefit for Donut. He's got leukemia."

"The club-house?" Sonya asked.

"The Blue Diamond club-house in Marine Heights. I knew Donut and his old lady Carrie before I married Wayne."

"You ever meet a guy named Rick Chambers at the club-house?"

Barb shrugged. "Sounds familiar, but I'm not sure. Is he a Diamond?"

"No, but his friends are. He's the brother of a friend of mine at school."

"I hang out with the older crowd. The younger ones don't always have a jacket or all their patches yet."

"Are they...outlaws?"

Barb shook her head. "Not anymore. Not since the FBI cracked down, thinking they were all drug dealers and dirtbags. Well, most of them were..."

"What time would you like me to come over Friday?" Sonya asked.

"How about seven? I should be back by eleven-thirty."

"Ma! Where's my jeans?"

Sonya stiffened when she heard Kyle's voice.

"In the dryer." Barb turned to Sonya. "He works all night, doesn't get out of bed until two-thirty."

Kyle walked into the kitchen, shirtless, zipping up the Levis he found in the dryer. When he looked up, he saw Sonya. "Oh, sorry."

Sonya blushed as he walked past her to the refrigerator.

"Sonya is babysitting Friday," Barb said. "Do you need a ride to work tonight?"

"No. Trey's giving me a ride."

"Did you finish fixing your Camaro?" Sonya asked.

Kyle took a carton of orange juice to the counter. "I can't afford the nine hundred dollar brake job yet. No sense in driving a car if I can't stop it."

"Save up some money from those double shifts," Barb said.

"That's the plan, Mom."

He poured juice into a glass, Sonya not missing the bitter look on his face. She had the feeling he would rather be doing anything else than working at Metal Concepts.

Barb sighed. "You don't know how lucky you are, and neither does Trey. Half of Marine is unemployed. Aron hasn't worked in almost a year."

"He went to Work Staffing," Sonya said.

"Work Staffing found me my job," Kyle said. "But I don't think your dad would want to work in a factory."

"Poor Bill," Barb said. "I'm so glad you and Aron are there to look after him, Sonya. He was so nice to Wayne and I after Lily died. He knew what it was like to lose a child."

*****

Sonya realized the house was empty when she entered. She would have used her key to open the side door, but the knob turned easily.

Helga did not greet her as she came through the mud-room to the kitchen.

Sonya found a Post-It note on the counter:

"We took Helga to the vet. Be back later."

Sonya dropped her backpack on the table. When she turned around, she noticed the sliding glass door was partially open, a breeze coming through the dining area.

She stepped into the living room. The TV was off, some of Helga's toys scattered around the carpet, including a PetsMart Bobo that Helga had separated from its stuffing long ago.

The door to Bill's room was open. Sonya took a few more steps, but stopped.

She could feel her heart skip a beat.

Why? she thought. No one could break in if Dad and Uncle Bill only left a little while ago...

She entered the room, Bill's furnishings modest; a twin bed, the post against the wall, Helga's dog bed on the other side. His dresser was in a corner, a full-length mirror in another. A mounted fish, a rainbow trout Bill caught years ago, was hanging on the wall over the bed. A nightstand featured a lamp and a large puzzle book.

The closet light was on. Sonya came closer, the door already cracked open.

She pushed the door in and looked around. Bill was still holding on to some of his old hunting and fishing equipment, including expensive rifles, hunting suits, his bow and arrows, fishing rods and nets. He had taken these things out of the attic when Sonya moved in. The other mounted fish and the impressive eight-point buck, the head and rack preserved and mounted on a plaque, were laying against Bill's clothes. Zipped-up bags in a camouflage design contained his knives and binoculars.

Bill quit hunting last year, after becoming lost in the woods for hours. He was in a new area, and had become confused, later found by a young hunter. Bill made the decision not to hunt again, putting away most of the mounted fish and the deer head.

Bill was only going to get worse, but Sonya wanted to convince herself that Bill would not completely forget her, or forget the truth.

Why couldn't Mom just tell me? she thought. I only backed off because I felt guilty, and if I had been wrong, I would have felt like a fool.

She could confront Aron, but he would try to convince her that she was wrong, and would refuse to go along, not wanting to upset Bill, who was allowing Aron and Sonya to live in his house, although Aron had not yet taken complete control of Bill's finances or decisions. However, this would change over the years, and Aron was barely hanging on to his retirement fund, collecting unemployment checks. He only had so much time to start over, and Bill's house was paid off.

Sonya did not consider her father greedy, but he had to think of the future. If Aron were to show signs of Alzheimer's in another ten years, Sonya would have to help him.

The idea of looking after Aron with Alzheimer's made her stomach hurt. She closed her eyes and shook her head before flipping the wall switch, the closet going dark.

*****

Sonya had completed her homework at school and was on the Blue and White, the printed friends lists in front of her. She found herself taking notes, looking for a detail, a clue, that would give her a piece to the puzzle:

SkolClik-Blue and White

FriendsRing

Creepy e-mail to Jess

Jess's e-mail address and ring

Rick-suspect?

The cuts and the knife

Rick Chambers can't be the only suspect, she thought. The police would be considering men of all ages.

Sonya scrolled down the Blue and White, skimming through another entry about Rex Gerber and his pregnant girlfriend, along with another student being punished for cheating. Sonya wondered how SkolClik got his information, who his sources were.

She thought of Cal, of all the sources he had collected over the years, from the police departments and the courthouse, not to mention the housing projects in Marine, along with numerous criminal hangouts.

The Blue Diamond club-house.

Sonya added the Blue Diamonds to her list, although she was not sure why. Rick had some Diamond friends, but so did most people in Marine.

She checked her mail, and found a message from e-Bay. A copy of the Watchtower vinyl .45, "When She's Not Here," was available at auction for twenty dollars.

"Looks like someone needs gas money," Sonya said.

She had Googled the word "Watchtower" after she moved to Bill's house, and found a Role Playing Game and a security company of the same name. She also found a German music site, but Sonya did not know the language. However, she was able to use the site's search engine, and another screen appeared featuring a black and white photo of four young men with long hair. Sonya recognized her father, to the left of the lead singer. He sported pork chop sideburns, a striped T-shirt and jeans, his arms folded across his broad chest.

Aron was almost forty when Sonya was born, and she never stopped being surprised when she came across the occasional photo of her father as a young man.

Bill had shown her Watchtower's only full-length album, recorded entirely in German, the cover white, with a red tower resembling the rook in a chess game. Bill had kept it with his old record collection. Sonya sat on the couch and flipped open the inside cover, fascinated with the early 1970s photos of Aron, Sven, Peter, and Andre. Aron, long auburn hair flowing, wore a button-down fur vest over a white shirt with puffy sleeves. Sven wore a peaked black hat and tight fitting denim, as did Peter and Andre. Most of the photos were taken near the sea, the guys sitting on large boulders at the surf.

"Aron has some old articles, too," Bill said. "They went on a tour of Germany, opened for Grand Funk Railroad."

"Grand what?" Sonya asked.

Bill laughed as Sonya studied the whole cover and the album inside, the songs listed in German. Frustrated, she returned it to Bill's old Elvis Presley and Johnny Cash albums. Bill owned a turntable, but Sonya was too shy to play the album.

I wouldn't understand the songs, anyway, she thought.

### Chapter Six

Bobby dropped a cap-full of Tide into the washer before leaving the laundry room.

He returned to the apartment, the bathroom towels in a large basket, clothes in another. Delia washed her own, but Rick's remained in a pile by the couch. Bobby pulled at the jeans on top, a pair of white briefs entwined in the denim legs. When he separated these, something shiny fell out of a pocket.

Bobby picked up the charm bracelet, which featured a red heart, a ladybug, and a gold star, off the carpet. He placed it on the coffee table.

He took the towels down the hall and filled the washer. When he returned, he opened his lap-top, going to the Blue and White.

He read the newest entry:

"Whatever Happened To Adam?

Thirteen years ago, a teenaged psycho named Adam Moore murdered his mother and nine year old sister. Adam, a student at North Marine High School, had dropped out months before. When he confessed, he told police he was arguing with his mom in the kitchen. Later, he sneaked up behind her and cut her throat, doing the same to his sister when she came home from school. He placed both bodies on the floor and slashed their faces. Then he called his dad, who turned Adam over to the police. Why am I bringing this up? Well, Adam was seventeen, so he was tried as a juvenile. I don't know where he is now, maybe he was sent to prison after he turned eighteen. His dad no longer lives in Marine. A parallel between Adam and Jess Holden's attacker? Leave a message, tell me what you think..."

Bobby clicked on the replies. He skimmed throught the first two("Adam was a sick little bastard. At school, they used to call him Frankenstein," and,"Who could do that to their mom and sister?")but his finger froze on the mouse when he came to the third, from a member named ghost94:

"I wish I had the guts to slash a bitch's face. Especially if she's pretty, she won't be so smug with scars on her face."

This bit of nastiness caused a reaction that lit up the blog, responses coming fast and thick; some enraged("...what happened to Jessica is no different than getting raped...), sympathetic towards Jess("...my ex threatened to cut up my face...), in agreement with ghost94("...there are some people who would only be nicer if they lost their looks...").

Bobby was shaking his head in amazement when his phone rang, Boy George starting the chorus of "I'll Tumble 4 Ya." Bobby's eyes were still on the screen as his fingers opened the phone. "Hello?"

"Bobby, are you reading this foolery?" Piper asked.

"Princess, I can't believe anyone would respond to this garbage."

"Maybe Sonya is right, the slasher might be on the Blue and White all the time."

"You think this ghost94 is the slasher?" Bobby asked.

"Maybe, but he's new, says so on the members' page."

"I wonder if Sonya found anything interesting on our friends lists."

"It might take awhile. I also think it's more likely that the slasher would be looking for girls, not boys."

"That doesn't bother me at all."

"Bobby, if I gave you some gas money, could you take me somewhere on your scooter?"

Bobby's motor-scooter was stored in his bedroom, leaning against the wall, covered with an old sheet, newspapers underneath the wheels. He had not used it in months. "Where do you want to go?"

"I'll tell you later, but I can have the money for you tomorrow."

"All right. I'll take the old scooter out and try to start it."

*****

Helga received her booster shot at the Marine Animal Clinic and Aron stopped at the L+M Market on the way home, Bill going inside with him, Helga staying in the truck.

Bill and Aron were turning their cart from one aisle to the next when they heard a familiar voice behind them. "Hi, Bill. Aron."

Bill turned around first, taking in the two men in front of him. "Hi."

The older man, bald with dark eyes and a broad, compact build, gave Bill a warm smile. "I'm Mike. Mike Winstead."

Mike had worked with Bill at Marine Paper Products, and Mike was there when Bill got lost in the woods the last time he went hunting.

Aron recognized Mike, although he had only met the man a few times. "You remember Mike, don't you, Bill?"

Bill smiled and nodded. Aron knew he was faking it, he did not want to seem rude. "Oh, yeah. Took me a minute."

"This is my son, Trey," Mike said.

Aron had not met Trey before, who looked like a younger version of his father, with the same eyes and stocky build, wearing jeans and a fleece jacket with "Metal Concepts" stitched above the breast. He wore work boots on his feet.

Trey nodded a hello and Mike asked,"How are you boys doing?"

Aron shrugged. "Oh, fine."

"Trey bagged an eight-point buck last year out at that property, near North Marine."

"That's great," Bill said.

"Trey went out there last weekend and deer everywhere."

Aron knew Mike did not mean to seem insensitive. Bill had already sold some of his hunting gear to Mike, including a Winchester rifle.

Aron, trying to find a way to get rid of the awkwardness, asked,"Is the fishing good out that way?"

"Yeah," Mike said. "My cousin went out there on the river and saw some trout last summer."

"We'll have to go out there," Aron said, looking at Bill.

"The salmon are out in April," Mike said. "Well, Trey and I have to finish our shopping. Nice talking to you again Bill, Aron. Take it easy."

Mike walked off, joining his son, who had wandered to the produce section.

Bill was silent as Aron filled the cart with milk, Dr. Pepper, a bag of dog food, and bread. Aron crossed these items off a list as he and Bill moved down each aisle.

"Carolyn's birthday is coming up," Bill said.

Bill handed Aron his checkbook, and Aron wrote in everything but the amount. "September fifteenth. I could get some flowers."

Aron and Bill got in line at the checkout. Bill grabbed a Milky Way, throwing it in the cart.

"Have you told Sonya?" Bill asked.

Aron shook his head. "But I think she's starting to figure it out."

"You should just tell her."

"I'll wait until she wants to ask."

"She might be too afraid to ask."

"Grab me a Snickers."

Bill tossed the Snickers in the cart.

"Bill?"

"Yeah?"

"Don't tell her. I don't think it's the right time, too soon after Carolyn."

Bill looked down, his thick white hair curling around his wrinkled face. He was very handsome once, both of his wives suffering fits of jealousy if he spoke too long to any other woman. "I don't remember him, Aron."

"Mike Winstead?"

"Yeah."

"You worked with him at the mill, you would go hunting with Mike and your other friends."

Bill, at these moments, reminded Aron of their father, also named Aron. The senior Aron had been a dentist, tall and blond. No one ever found him boring or became angry at him, including Bill's mother, Britt. He was often unfaithful, but Britt always forgave him, even when he brought Aron home.

He stopped being funny and bright with the progression of the Alzheimer's. He gradually forgot how to play piano or the stories he would tell about the war. When he became depressed and withdrawn, Bill would become the same, not knowing how to cope. Britt took over, and did not resent Bill and Aron moving to Canada; Bill with Elke and John, and later Aron for college.

"Who was Mike with?" Bill asked.

"His son, Trey. Bagged an eight-point."

"He looks familiar."

"He probably went hunting with you and Mike."

"Probably."

Aron eased his cart up in line, and Bill started to empty the cart, putting the bread and milk on the rolling belt towards the cashier.

Mike and Trey had paid for their items in another check-out and were walking past, heading for the automatic doors. Bill saw Mike and took quick steps to catch up. "Hey, Mike, did you take that new Winchester out? How did it work for you?"

Mike turned around, his smile having returned. "Oh, I took it out for duck season..."

*****

Piper's bedroom was four times the size of Sonya's or Bobby's rooms, with her own large desk in the corner, the walls long painted pink, the canopy bed in lacy white, with a small fireplace and sofa, a flat-screen TV on the wall. Piper could entertain several friends in this room, but she preferred to keep her visitors downstairs.

Her room was a place where even her mother left her alone. Jo-Jo was allowed to lay on the bed, but Piper, an only child, did not mind some solitude.

Piper's parents divorced by the time she was six years old, her relationship with her father cold at best. David Jones was a man who felt closer to his Blackberry than most people, and Piper had inherited this tendency, enjoying impersonal exchanges on the Web than long phone conversations with friends, except for Bobby.

She sat at her desk while staring at the screen on her MacBook. Her eyes moved from side to side, reading each confusing word, a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach.

"Piper–

Your little piggies must be squealing over the Ravisher, who sees their faces like uncooked hams he can't wait to slice to pieces. A diamond can cut into skin or bone, glass a distant memory, along with the floaters. Your swine will hold their pearls close, won't they? Your little world is turning to dirt, and I know you don't like that, because your secrets will be dug up by someone. If you want to avoid this, visit me, let me tell you a story..."

Piper pushed herself away. She moved her gaze to the window, catching a glimpse of red and yellow leaves, tree limbs brushing against the glass. Halloween would come, the leaves falling hard, then another Thanksgiving and Christmas. Half of the school year would be over.

Piper had already asked Bobby if he would take her on his scooter, because she could never get a ride from anyone else out to Haven Rest, almost twenty miles away.

I could use my whole allowance, only to end up hearing more gibberish, Piper thought. And how does she know that the slasher calls himself the Ravisher? Diamonds and floaters? She's supposed to be medicated in that place, but I know better than to underestimate her. If I didn't know better, I'd call her a genius.

*****

Ann-Marie Holden concluded the second open house that evening at the three-bedroom, two bathroom home at Whispering Pines, locking the front door. When she turned around, briefcase in hand, she saw a figure run past her car.

The sun had yet to set, and she took in his dark T-shirt and gray sweatpants, stained with sweat. Ann-Marie shook her head, chiding herself for her paranoia.

The little bastard has to be long gone, she thought. He wouldn't dare come back, and I'll bet everyone will be watching, just like me.

She gazed at the houses in front of her, all of a similar design and color. A peaceful, boring place where everyday feels like the day before, unless something terrible happens. Ann-Marie shivered in her long coat, feet chilled in open-toed heels. She had the kind of feeling Granny Rae would have described as someone walking over her grave. Ann-Marie could not ignore the sinking in her gut as she stared at the darkening sky.

The jogger was far away by the time she got inside her car and turned on the heat. She tried to relax, but her mind was making leaps, wanting to imagine Jess's attacker having enough nerve to come back and slash another girl's face.

He could do something worse next time, she thought.

She noticed a U-Haul truck cruising up the driveway of a house nestled in the cul-de-sac. A "For Sale" sign was in the front yard, courtesy of Compass Realty, chief rival of Ann-Marie's employer, Harbortown Realty. The competition had become even more fierce, although Ann-Marie had survived by being creative, searching out areas with the best school systems or where charter schools were going to be built, banking on young couples who wanted their children to get the best education or retired people who were getting ready to sell for a condo or apartment. She watched the divorce announcements and obituaries in the Marine Press, looking for potential clients.

Whispering Pines was dotted with realtor's signs in almost every yard. The house Ann-Marie was trying to sell contained used furniture purchased by her office; an empty house contained no warmth, turning off a possible buyer. The same beige sofa and burgundy chairs were shipped from house to house on the list, Ann-Marie doing the lifting on more than one occasion. She even cleaned the houses at times, the owners leaving their messes behind when they fled.

Ann-Marie watched a man come out of the U-Haul truck. She could not make out his face, but a boy, around eight years old, came from the front door, running up to the man, shaking his head.

He doesn't want to leave the house, Ann-Marie thought. Abandoning his room, his friends, his school...

Ann-Marie watched the man bring out two kitchen chairs on his own. A teenaged boy followed, helping with the dining table and a couch. She wondered how long they had lived in that house, which looked like more than three bedrooms, with a three-car garage. The color was beige and white, with a gabled roof and a large picture window. A paved driveway. She could imagine the foyer and a staircase leading to a wide hallway and spacious bedrooms.

The owners could ask for over a hundred thousand, she thought, but they would be lucky to get ninety-five.

She did not envy their Compass realtor.

Ann-Marie took the short drive home to find Jess asleep on the couch, Gramma Joan watching TV. She thought of the attacker taking the ring off of Jess's finger, an heirloom from Granny Rae, and Ann-Marie hoped she never met the guy, because she would like to make him hurt, just as he hurt Jess.

She found herself in the kitchen, taking a bottle of wine from the refrigerator. Joan, when she entered the kitchen, saw Ann-Marie taking a glass from the cupboard and asked if Ann-Marie wanted to drink alone. She shook her head, getting another glass out for her mother.

Joan, if a stranger should look upon her, would only see a woman over sixty years old with white hair and skin that was just starting to get deeply wrinkled. She did not swear or drink too much. She possessed a peaceful nature, so she underplayed whatever tragedies or injustices she had experienced, telling only two people she had been raped over forty years ago; her husband and Ann-Marie.

"I wonder if he threatened her," Joan said.

Ann-Marie shook her head while she poured enough white wine into the glass to fill it almost to the brim, doing the same with Joan's glass. "She said he didn't speak to her."

"Sometimes, they like to talk afterwards, but my attacker got me in the house. In the kitchen. He said that if I fought, he'd kill you and your brother. You two were sleeping upstairs."

Ann-Marie had spoken with her mother about the rape only twice since Joan had told her ten years ago, after Ann-Marie's father died. "How did he know?"

"I think he had been watching the house, planning for when I was alone. Your father worked nights then." Joan took a sip of wine. "I was getting ready for bed. The back door was unlocked. I mean, this was Marine County in the 1960s, not like it is now. He let himself in while I was in the kitchen. He threatened me with a knife, then pushed me over the table..."

"Did you call the police, Mom?"

"Oh, no! You didn't do that back then. I had no idea who he was. I never saw him around town or anywhere after, thank God. And you know what? I can only remember a few things about what he looked like. I think he had dark hair and blue eyes. He was wearing a white T-shirt, maybe. He smelled like the paper mill, so he could have worked there. I could smell it on his hand, the one he covered my mouth with. It took me years just to remember the little things."

"Do you think he would have been arrested if you reported it?"

"Maybe, but DNA couldn't be used back then. All I did was take a long bath and kept the house locked up."

"Nothing was left on Jess."

"Jess said a police officer took pictures of her cuts before the stitches. What are they hoping to find?"

"Maybe the knife?" Ann-Marie asked.

"I'll bet he thinks he's slick and that knife is at the bottom of Lake Michigan by now."

"It's going to take another attack, Mom."

"He's got a taste of it, so don't think he wants to stop now."

### Chapter Seven

Sonya finished the school day, finding Bill raking leaves in the backyard.

"Your dad went on another interview...somewhere," he said.

"Is it okay if I ride my bike to the park?" Sonya asked.

Bill shrugged. "Fine with me, but be back before dark."

She grabbed her camera from the dresser drawer in her room, placing it around her neck. Her ten-speed was in the garage and Bill said nothing as she pedalled down the driveway, Helga watching her go.

Jess lived on Warner, just three blocks away. Farm Park was half-way there, the perfect cover for checking out Jess's neighborhood.

Sonya braved the Farm Road traffic, hoping Aron would not pass her on his way home.

Sonya noticed that Bobby and Piper were quiet at school, not socializing with anyone but her. Piper seemed distracted and Bobby kept looking around, as if waiting for someone to make an insulting remark. The bell rang before Sonya realized Bobby was watching for SkolClik.

Sonya turned left on Warner Avenue, going another half-block before reaching Jess's house.

The afternoon was cool and sunny. The street was paved and Sonya stopped at the edge of the driveway, staring up at the spot where Jess was attacked.

Sonya had no intention of visiting Jess, she was more interested in how the Ravisher found a way to sneak into Jess's yard through the woods.

She left her bike in the shrubbery between Jess's house and the next door neighbor, taking a walk down the block. She soon came to the fenced entryway of the Whispering Pines subdivision, a winding paved road cutting through several acres containing new and incomplete houses, surrounded by trees and carefully tended lawns, leaves covering the black roofs of every house.

Sonya pulled the camera from the cord around her neck and raised the lens, taking a series of random photos. She could not avoid the realtor's signs. She took a photo of every other house, including one of the largest, beige and white, nestled in a cul-de-sac.

Sonya noticed the large pickup truck in the driveway. She looked closer, and could make out the gold and glass chandelier in the back. Beside it, a sink.

The owners were stripping the house.

Sonya knew she was watching a crime take place. Cal, when their house was almost foreclosed on, had been tempted to take out all of the appliances and sell what he could, but his attorney strongly advised against it.

Sonya slipped the Kodak behind her when she saw a man come out, carrying a medicine cabinet, the mirror reflecting the porch. He did not seem to notice her, the camera now in her jacket pocket as she took long strides down the lane.

She almost ran through the entrance, leaving Whispering Pines behind her, getting closer to Jess's house. When she came to her bike, she was calmer, and decided to get one last photo.

She raised the lens to the driveway, getting as close as she could to the place where Jess was attacked without entering the yard. She lined up the shot and pressed the button.

She was turning around, the camera still between her fingers, when the pickup passed her. The bed was full; cupboards, chandelier, sink, and the medicine cabinet held down with ropes.

Sonya noticed the driver was wearing a trucker cap, lid pulled low, and sunglasses. Her gaze was still on him when a flash went off to her right, behind the driver.

A small window, part of the back seat of the cab, was rolled down, the camera phone open and taking a picture of Sonya, who only had seconds to realize she was being photographed as the truck went by.

*****

Sonya was still puzzled when she reached Bill's house.

A small white motor scooter stood in the driveway. She got off her bike, bringing it closer to the garage. When she passed the gate, she found Bobby and Piper in the back yard with Bill.

Bobby was stroking the top of Helga's big head. He was wearing a white Billy Idol T-shirt and girl's jeans, a chain hanging from a back pocket. His hair was slicked back. Piper wore a white sweater, plaid skirt, and red leggings.

Bill was standing nearby, leaning on the rake, a breeze blowing through his thick hair. "Where did you go?"

"The park."

"Your friends came by to see you." He looked to Bobby. "Helga likes you."

Bobby nodded. "She's a nice dog."

"I thought Bobby and I would check on Jess," Piper said.

"I didn't have time to talk to her today," Sonya said.

"She's all right, but she found that entry on the Blue and White. Anna and Courtney showed it to her, the idiots."

"I think they're jealous," Bobby said. "She's getting more attention."

Bill walked over the his shed, taking the rake with him.

"Has she received anymore e-mails?" Sonya asked.

Piper shook her head. "Jess told me that the police want him to contact her again, but I think he's too smart."

Sonya came closer to Bobby and Piper, watching for Bill to emerge from the shed. "I was out by Jess's house. I went to Whispering Pines."

She explained what she saw there, and Bobby asked,"What were you looking for?"

"Maybe the Ravisher lives close to Jess, a neighbor or someone who goes to our school. He could be anyone, but how far would he be willing to go to find another girl to attack?"

"Whispering Pines is half-empty," Bobby said. "People are moving out almost every day. Kelly used to live there, now she's living with her parents at her grandma's house."

Sonya shrugged. "I live with my uncle."

"He's so cute," Piper said. "He called me 'Cupcake.' No one has ever called me that."

Bobby giggled. "Can I call you Cupcake?"

Piper kept a straight face. "No."

Sonya turned at the sound of tires on the driveway. Aron was at the wheel of the truck.

"My dad had another job interview," she said.

"What school did he teach at?" Piper asked.

"North Marine. Taught English and History."

Aron emerged from the truck in his jacket and tie, hair neatly combed. He entered through the gate, Helga running up to him.

"How'd it go?" Sonya asked.

"Lousy." He grinned at her, petting Helga. "Where's Bill?"

"In his shed." Sonya introduced Bobby and Piper. Aron said a polite hello and went to the shed, Helga following.

"I guess we have enough time to get over to Jess's house," Bobby said. "I have to study for an English quiz tonight."

"Jess was out of it today," Piper said.

"Did she sound drunk?" Sonya asked.

"Yeah."

"She must still be in pain."

Sonya followed Bobby and Piper out to Bobby's scooter, watching them put matching helmets on. She waved as they pulled out.

She was walking into the house when she found Bill at the table, reading the Marine Press.

"Nice kids," he said.

Sonya opened the refrigerator, searching for a Dr. Pepper. "Yeah, they're fun."

"That boy is swishy, though."

*****

Kristen Beck was coming to the end of her shift at Chester Chicken. She had been standing for hours at the register. She used to like fried chicken, now the smell of the fryer was nauseating, she would feel sick watching the customers eat the stuff.

Kristen was senior at East Marine and had known she was pregnant for the last two weeks, although she had yet to tell her parents and her boyfriend Darius. The baby was due at the end of April, so she could expect to give birth before graduation.

Kristen was petite, around five feet, three inches tall. Her hair was a dark brown, as were her eyes. She was a good student and attended the same cheerleading camp as Piper and Jess over the summer.

Kristen left the register to take out the garbage. The large, heavy bag, filled with discarded food and containers, was already leaking as Kristen tried to drag it through the back door. She had been warm inside, now the cool September night air was giving her chills in her white Chester Chicken work shirt and black pants.

She was still dragging the bag when she passed the few cars at the drive-thru. The time was almost ten o'clock, when the restaurant closed on the inside, the drive-thru open until midnight.

The dumpster was surrounded by a six foot tall wooden shelter, unlocked during business hours. Kristen pulled open the front gate by its latch.

When she entered, the ripe smell of garbage greeted her, sufficient light peering from the parking lot to allow her to see what she was doing. She flipped over one of the rubber flaps at the top of the dumpster. She used both hands to try to lift the bag, hoping the plastic would not break. Her fingers were becoming cold, her nose starting to run.

She was grabbed from behind while bending over. A man's arm tightened around her small waist, his hand covering her face. He tried to raise her from the ground, but she kept a grip on the heavy bag.

"Let go, bitch."

She would have screamed, but she was too dumbstruck as he wrapped his hand around her ponytail, keeping her head in place. The knife in his other hand shot out, cutting into the plastic bag around her fingers, making her let go.

He pulled her backwards behind the dumpster. She tried to wiggle away, but he used his weight to pin her against the wooden fencing. He kept his hand tangled in her hair. Kristen recognized the hunting knife, her father owned one like it, the blade long and sharp.

He was dressed in black clothing, including a ski mask. He pulled hard at her hair while he pushed the blade into her lips, slicing into the soft flesh as Kristen's frightened squeals exploded behind her clenched teeth.

*****

A woman and her ten year old son were eating their Chester Chicken combo meals in the front seat of the woman's SUV when they saw the girl stumble out of the dumpster shelter.

The blood was oozing from the cuts across Kristen's lips, chin, and cheeks, soaking into her white shirt, her hair hanging in her face as she tried to walk towards the building. The woman in the SUV watched Kristen fall on the pavement. She told her boy to stay put and she got out of her vehicle. She ran to Kristen to help but, as soon as she saw the girl's face, she let out a loud gasp.

The shock kept Kristen quiet. Her manager, a nineteen year old named Chip, called the police. She was rushed into the break room before the other customers could see her. When the police and ambulance came, Kristen was sitting with the woman, wrapped in her jacket, napkins with the Chester Chicken logo stuck to her face to stop the bleeding.

She would not notice until later that her watch was missing, pulled from her left wrist.

*****

"You're right," Bobby said, "I would have refused."

"I'm sorry," Piper said. "But I knew you would at least hear me out."

Bobby and Piper had stopped at Farm Park later that afternoon, sitting at the rusted swing set. They had visited Jess for an hour but, when they left Jess's house, Piper asked Bobby if they could talk somewhere else, suggesting the park.

A woman with a baby in a pink stroller sat nearby, a book open in her lap.

"Your life was almost ruined," Bobby said. "And don't tell me any of it was worth being expelled from Crandall."

"I wasn't expelled, I was asked to leave."

"Same thing."

"Justine can't hurt me, she's locked up."

"She could find a way," Bobby said. "She's smart."

"You've never met her."

"I didn't have to, you told me enough."

"She knows something about the guy that attacked Jess. She called him the Ravisher."

"Is that enough to make you want to go to Haven Rest?"

"Yes. This must be important to Justine, because I haven't heard from her in months."

"Don't let your mom find out, she'll take your computer away."

"Not to mention my cell phone. She's done it before."

"At a place like Haven Rest," Bobby said, "Justine would have to be a good girl to be allowed to use the Web."

Piper opened her Chanel bag, pulling out a printed copy of the e-mail. "Here. You try to make sense of it..."

Bobby's eyes darted over each sentence. "What's this about a diamond?"

"Who knows?" Piper's fingers gripped the chains on both sides of her as she sat in the swing. "She could be delusional, or seeing things perfectly clear."

"She's thinks we're all little piggies." Bobby kept his gaze on the paper. "What secret of your's does she want to dig up?"

"She has a few, but nothing you don't already know about."

Bobby handed the copy back to her. "I'll take you when you want to go, but Haven Rest is almost fifteen miles from here."

"My dad would give me more money. I'll tell him I need it for clothes or something."

"Your mom won't care if you ask your dad for money?"

"She doesn't mind, but I'm going to have to be careful."

"You could end up grounded forever—"

"She won't find out."

*****

Sonya was dozing off when she heard a knock. She got out of bed and opened the door in the attic floor. When she looked down, she saw Aron in his T-shirt and pajama bottoms.

"Another girl was attacked. Do you know a Kristen Beck?"

### Chapter Eight

"Hello?"

Sonya heard the woman's voice, and was confused for a moment, but asked," Is Cal there?"

"He's not here right now."

"Oh. Um...okay." Sonya quickly hung up, closing her cell phone. Her cheeks felt warm, wondering who the woman was that answered Cal's phone.

Maybe he has a girlfriend now, she thought. But Mom hasn't been dead for six months...

Sonya had wanted to speak to Cal since reading his article about the attacks on Jess and Kristen in the Marine Press. Kristen's assault was days ago, but now the local news stations from Falls River had come to the school, causing excited murmurs. Kristen had not returned to school, but SkolClik had been at work, showing a yearbook photo of her taken the year before. Sonya did not recognize Kristen , but Piper remembered her from cheerleading camp.

Sonya put her cell phone in her jacket and walked over to Barb's house to babysit the Four Js. Aron told her he would pick her up when Barb came home, but Sonya only had to cross the street and walk past two houses.

"Kristen was at work," he had said. "This guy is getting more confident. The next one might be in her own home."

Sonya, as she thought of her father's words, started walking faster, only becoming less anxious when she reached Barb's driveway, the Camaro covered in leaves sticking from the afternoon rain.

She knocked at the door and Barb called out. "Come in!"

Sonya, when she entered, heard the spin of the washing machine and the sound of a video game on the TV. She came to the living room, and found Kyle playing a Mario Brothers game with one of his brothers.

Kyle was fully dressed this time, in a T-shirt and jeans, as he pressed his thumbs against the buttons, Mario and Luigi bouncing from a roof. Mario made a bad dive and fell, ending the game.

Kyle looked up and smiled, his brother taking over. "Jack's the only one who lets me play."

"We need another TV," Jack said. "Josh and Jay play Wii on ours."

"I need some coffee," Kyle said. He rose from the floor, heading for the kitchen. "I go in at eight tonight."

Barb emerged from the bathroom, her hair still wet, wearing tight jeans and a black T-shirt with the Blue Diamond logo, a smiling skull with a blue stone in the front tooth, surrounded by a floral border. "Hi, Sonya. The boys already ate, and Kyle will be leaving soon. I left my cell number on the fridge, but I should be back by eleven."

"Mom?" Jack asked. "Can I stay up until you get home?"

"Did you finish your homework?"

"No."

"Do that and you can stay up. Same for your brothers. Did you eat, Sonya?"

"Yeah."

"There's chips and cookies if you want them. Pop is in the fridge." Barb grabbed her leather jacket from the couch. "Jack, you and your brothers be good for Sonya."

Barb went out through the back door. Sonya found Kyle drinking his coffee at the table.

"Mom can give you a ride home tonight," he said.

"My dad is picking me up."

"I used to work with her brother Tony."

"Who?"

"Kristen Beck."

"At Metal Concepts?"

"No. At my old job."

"He took her watch."

Kyle nodded. "He wants a reminder..."

"He's so smart, he never makes a mistake."

"You would think the girls could fight him, but they must be too scared."

"And I'll bet he's in good shape—"

They both heard a vehicle come up the driveway.

"That's Trey." Kyle left his coffee, picking up his jacket from behind the chair. "They'll just play video games until they fall asleep. Jack knows he has all weekend to do that homework, so Mom can get on him later."

"Okay."

After Kyle walked out, Sonya watched through the window as Trey put his red truck in reverse. She was turning towards the living room when she heard her cell phone ring in her jacket pocket.

She pulled it out. "Hello?"

"Sonya, it's Piper. Have you looked on the Blue and White?"

"No, not today."

"Are you at home?"

"Babysitting for a neighbor. I'll call you back, okay?"

Sonya found Jack playing alone at the TV. "Do you have a computer?"

"Mom's lap-top is in her room."

"Can you get it for me?"

He nodded, tearing his gaze away from Grand Theft Auto to go to his mother's room. When he returned with the lap-top, he helped Sonya get on the Web as she sat at the couch.

"What are you looking for?" he asked.

"Have you ever heard of the Blue and White?"

"High school stuff." He left her, getting back to his game.

Sonya went to the blog, ready to see some scathing commentary. Instead, what she saw made her suck in her breath, almost gasping.

She had to think for a moment, recalling when the camera phone caught her at Jess's house over a week ago. In the photo on the screen, she was holding her own camera, hair in her face, eyes closed, mouth open.

"Freshman Detective

Sonya Neslund wouldn't be noticed by her peers if she was on fire, but she has been seen at Whispering Pines, snooping her way into the attacks. If this woodpecker-headed nobody thinks she can find the Ravisher before the police, good luck to her, but she shouldn't be surprised to see more girls get cut up before this comes to an end. Somebody give this girl a clue, because she could be next..."

Woodpecker-headed nobody? Sonya thought. That's a new one. Did SkolClik take my photo that day? Was he in the truck or did someone send him the picture?

Sonya scrolled down to the previous entry:

"Kristen Was Pregnant

Kristen Beck, the lastest Ravisher victim, has reportedly suffered a miscarriage. Her boyfriend, Darius Williams, attends the community college and has not been to class in days. Kristen is still in the hospital, but my source told me that Kristen had been pregnant for weeks. The Ravisher has not only hurt Kristen, but her unborn baby. I wish they would find this guy. Maybe Detective Woodpecker and her trusty camera(not to mention Wiper Bones and her gay, Bobby Holdsherpurse)can crack the case..."

Sonya had never seen Bobby hold Piper's purse, and she was already sick of the woodpecker remarks. She went to school with other red-headed kids, but SkolClik had singled her out for some reason, if only because he recognized her at Whispering Pines.

If he was in that truck, she thought, he was moving out with his family.

Sonya went off the blog and shut the lap-top. She watched Jack play his game for awhile, another game blaring in the boys' bedroom.

Sonya decided to check on the others, taking the lap-top back to Barb's room.

The house contained three small bedrooms, and the Four Js shared one room. The door to Barb's was wide open, the light off. Sonya flipped the switch and looked up to see a black tapestry covering the wall above the full-size bed. The Blue Diamond skull logo was in all four corners, but the center sported the words:

LOYALTY. FREEDOM. BROTHERHOOD.

BLUE DIAMONDS ARE FOREVER.

Sonya looked around the room, which was modestly furnished, the flowered bedspread a strange contrast with the tapestry on the wall. She wondered for a moment what Barb's life must have been like married to a biker, possibly an outlaw, and having children with him. Kyle. Lily. Years later, quadruplets. She was not even sure how Wayne Stone died.

What kind of father or husband was he? she thought.

She noticed no photographs or other mementos in the room, everything put away neat.

Sonya laid the computer on top of the dresser and left the room, turning off the light. She turned towards the boys' room, but found Kyle's door to her right.

She stopped for a moment, her curiosity growing even more. She would later ask herself why she wanted to see Kyle's room, if only to know what his bed looked like, if he was messy or neat. She had imagined him sleeping and what he possibly dreamed about, his eyes heavy with sleep, lashes against the skin.

Her hand gripped the knob, but the door was locked. She pulled away, then almost jumped when the door next to her opened, light from the room filling the hallway.

One of the Four Js stood there in a T-shirt and pajama bottoms, blond hair sticking up. The smell of sweat drifted out, the two other boys in front of a small TV.

"Is Jack still using the PlayStation?" he asked.

Sonya nodded. "I think so."

He passed her, Sonya following. He found his brother at the TV. "Jack, Mom said you have to finish your homework."

Jack, knowing this was an attempt to get him to give up the PlayStation, said, "I can get it done before Monday, Jay."

Jason did not move, staring down his brother. Sonya sat at the couch, watching them. She never had a sibling to fight with, and did not think she was missing much, although she had spent most of her life playing alone, doing solitary activities such as drawing, reading, or taking pictures. She could not have a dog because Cal was allergic, her cameras becoming her pets; one replacing another, photo albums full of her childish attempts at capturing life.

If she had her camera, she would take a photo of Jack and Jason in this moment; one standing over the other, trying to establish dominance. Jack continued to look at the screen, cars in a chase, a drug dealer in pursuit of a crafty prostitute who had stolen his money. She was wearing a skimpy halter top, stuffed cleavage almost falling out.

"Give me a minute," Jack said. "I'll finish this..."

Jason stayed in place, making sure Jack kept his word. In a few minutes, the hooker was shot dead, and Jason had the PlayStation.

Jason turned to Sonya. "Wanna play?"

*****

The boys had fallen asleep before Barb returned home. She was not alone, entering the house with a broad-shouldered, long-haired man. He was younger than Barb, wearing jeans and a leather vest over a T-shirt. The skull grinned on the back of the vest.

Sonya had her phone in hand, ready to call Aron. She noticed how Barb stumbled a bit, her cheeks pink.

She pointed at her friend. "This is Shawn..."

Sonya nodded a hello while waiting for Aron to pick up. "Hello? Barb's home..."

She had no interest in witnessing Barb's drunken conquest. Shawn was handsome, in his twenties, hair light brown and thick, blue eyes watching as Barb sauntered out of the kitchen. His nose was long, lips small. He gave Sonya a shy smile.

She closed her phone, putting her jacket back on.

"She needed a ride," he said.

"I can see why."

"Barb doesn't cut loose very often, but she did tonight."

Barb came back in carrying a paper bag, doing a side to side dance, a big grin on her face. She gave Shawn the bag and he extracted two twenties from his wallet. Barb took the money, stuffing the bills in her pocket as she maintained her balance. "I'm going right to bed..."

Shawn nodded. "You do that."

"I don't like my kids to see me drunk."

Sonya suppressed a smile, relieved when her father arrived in the truck. She was going out when she heard Barb come up behind her. "I forgot to pay you, Hon."

She handed Sonya one of the twenties. Sonya knew the amount was too much, but she took the bill. "Thanks. Good-night."

******

Mike Winstead was on his break from the mill, reading the day's Marine Press.

The break room was quiet that night. Mike was now on second shift after years of being on first, the only option given after the last round of lay-offs.

Mike, at fifty-nine, would have taken the early retirement package that was offered to employees at Michigan Paper Products, but he was not sure what he would do with himself if he no longer worked. He had been at the mill for over thirty years; he was asked to take a supervisor position more than once and was union steward. He could do his job tasks blindfolded, knowing every machine in the place.

His gaze fell on the article about the Ravisher. Bill Neslund lived out that way. The last time Mike visited Bill, he bought a hunting knife and a Winchester rifle. Bill had decided to sell most of his hunting supplies, although he did not make it sound as if he needed the money.

Mike, as he was talking to Bill in the grocery store, realized that Bill may not have remembered him. Mike understood that the Alzheimer's disease would make Bill forget people and was surprised when Bill suddenly recalled the rifle as Mike was leaving the store. They proceeded to have a fifteen minute conversation outside, with Aron catching up with them, holding the bags.

Later, when Mike was dropping Trey off at his house, he recalled loaning Trey the clipped-point hunting knife, and asked his son about it.

"You want it back?" Trey asked.

"No, that's okay. You can hang on to it for awhile."

Mike read the sidebar article next to the feature. He shook his head, sipping his coffee. The first girl, Jessica Holden, lived near the Whispering Pines subdivision. Trey had worked with the construction crew that built those new houses. Sales had been disappointing, with some of the houses already in foreclosure.

Trey, while eating dinner with Mike at Burger King one evening, told his father about a woman who had moved into Whispering Pines with her young daughter last year. Only a few of the houses were inhabited then, and the crew was building another house close to the single mother's. A guy on the crew was caught peeping in the woman's bedroom window.

"The guy must be lonely or gets off sneaking a peek," Mike answered.

"He was married," Trey said.

Mike sprinkled salt from a packet over his French fries. "He won't be anymore."

"She would be that mad?"

"She wouldn't be able to trust him again."

"Maybe she knew all along, but didn't care."

"Some people are good at keeping secrets," Mike said.

Mike pushed the newspaper away. He went back to work, but was anxious and distracted the rest of the night. When he came home, he searched his medicine cabinet for the sedative his doctor prescribed last year.

He took one tablet, his dreams strange. Trey's face was covered in green paint, the both of them in Trey's red truck. He is driving too fast as they pass Bill's house. Mike sees Trey's mother Judy on the side of the road. Trey looks behind him, putting the car in reverse, speeding backwards towards Judy.

Mike, after he forced himself awake, forgot about his dream. He had told Trey that some people were good secret-keepers, and Mike was one of them. He protected Trey from the day he was born; he had been a good father, and he knew his son better than anyone.

*****

Sonya, before getting ready for bed, returned to the Blue and White on her lap-top at the kitchen table.

She was scrolling through the entries from the last week, including the commentary about Adam Moore, which now included a photo. Sonya's gaze rested on the two boys in the image; one in focus, the other in the background.

Adam's hair was cut very short, almost bald. His skin was peppered with acne on the cheeks and chin. In a T-shirt and jeans, he was smiling. He seemed to Sonya like the type of quiet boy who would hang out with a more dominant kid in a crowd, unnoticed, with no one aware of the rage inside.

Aron came out to the kitchen, and Sonya found him standing behind her.

"Adam Moore?" he asked.

She nodded, pulling her eyes away from the screen. "Do you remember him from North Marine?"

"How could I forget? He told the counselor he _wanted_ to kill his mother. The year before, he got all As with me in English, but I had to flunk him in Speech the next, only because he was too shy to speak in front of the class. The other kids used to call him Frankenstein because he was tall and clumsy. He dropped out that year."

"Why did he hate his mother?"

"She was strict, and I think he resented her because she favored his sister more. The divorce made it worse. Some things came out later about her being verbally abusive, a lot of put-downs. What happened with Adam was tragic."

"Did it make you want to quit teaching?" Sonya asked.

He sighed. He had brushed his teeth, she could smell the minty scent on his breath. "The teachers became split down the middle. Some viewed Adam with no pity, they thought he should be tried as an adult, but these teachers never had Adam in their classroom. Some of his former teachers thought he was mentally ill, and I was one of them. His mother's abuse may have made him snap, but that wouldn't explain why he also killed his little sister..."

"Where do you think he is now?"

"He was tried as a juvenile, but I think he's still locked away."

"Do you miss teaching, Dad?"

"Not in a long time. I just got burned out, Honey. The divorce didn't help, and Carolyn also quit. Teaching is the kind of profession that punishes the educators for caring, but they also get punished for not caring enough. For me, the situation became ridiculous and stressful, and I started feeling sick while driving to school. I found myself applying for other jobs, and something else came along."

"Mom was threatened by a student," Sonya said.

"She was stalked. Some crazy kid who didn't like the grade she gave him. A kid slashed the tires on my car after I gave him an F."

Sonya knew this would be a good time to change the subject before Aron left the kitchen. "Did you ever meet Barb's husband?"

"No. Bill knew Wayne better."

"How did he die?"

"A motorcycle accident, I think. You could ask Bill."

"Does Uncle Bill ever...share with other people in the neighborhood?"

"Sometimes."

"With Barb?"

"Probably. I wouldn't be surprised. Why?"

"Did Uncle Bill ever know any of the other Blue Diamonds?"

"Bill is very small-time compared to those guys. But most of them were sent to prison. The rest are old or sick."

"Was Wayne a drug dealer?"

"I don't know. Bill told me that he was wild when he was younger, but he changed after the baby died."

"It's strange how they lost a child, but later had four sons all at once."

"Life is strange. Unpredictable." Aron's eyes moved back to the computer screen. He shook his head. "I _can't_ go back to teaching..."

### Chapter Nine

Robin Jones's quick gaze took in the e-mail on Piper's lap-top screen. Piper had been acting more secretive lately, and now Robin knew why. When she finished reading most of Justine's ranting, she shut the computer.

Piper came downstairs minutes later, her unzipped backpack dangling from her hand. She approached the counter, placing the pack next to the MacBook.

"I told you never to contact her again," Robin said.

Piper could feel her cheeks flare red before she looked up. "She won't stop, Mom."

"Don't encourage her."

"I'm not. I just don't know what to do."

"I'll speak to someone at Haven Rest."

"Don't. Please."

"Why not? She's a lunatic."

"She'll get bored and go away. Maybe they took her off her meds or something."

"She will never get bored with you, Piper. You were the closest she had to a best friend. And partner."

"I was never with her—"

"But you knew what she was going to do that day and you didn't tell anyone."

Piper sighed. "I don't want to argue about it, okay? I haven't responded to any of her e-mails, and I don't want to."

Robin also did not want to argue further, but the e-mail had been open, so Piper was taking the time to read Justine's messages. Robin finished her coffee and drove Piper to school in silence. Piper knew her mother would be checking her computer from now on, so whatever new e-mails Justine sent would have to be forwarded to Bobby before being deleted. She could also give Justine a different e-mail address.

She was still thinking of different ways to outwit her mother when she heard her cell phone ring in the pocket of her short leather jacket. "Hello?"

"Piper? This is Delia, Bobby's mother. He won't be coming to school today..."

*****

Sonya was standing at her bus stop when the Ford truck passed her, Trey at the wheel, Kyle next to him. He turned in at Barb's driveway, the truck's brake lights glowing in the morning mist.

Sonya was putting her hand to her mouth to suppress a yawn when she heard her cell phone ring in her backpack. She had to take the pack off and unzip it before retrieving the phone after several rings. "Hello?"

"Sonya? It's Piper. Rick hurt Bobby; he's at the hospital with broken fingers. Rick's been arrested, but their mom says she won't bail him out."

"Wasn't he on his meds?" Sonya asked.

"That's what Bobby told me, but Rick has a bad temper, and he likes to bully Bobby, especially when they're alone together. Rick doesn't like that Bobby's gay, but —"

Sonya heard Robin's voice in the background, but could not make out her words.

"We're coming up to the school now," Piper said. "I'll talk to you later."

*****

Sonya shut her locker and followed Piper down the hallway, past the office and out of the building, which was not locked down during lunch. They crossed the street off-campus to Mack's, a convenience store.

Mack's was a legend among East Marine students, and lunchtime brought out students from every grade, where siblings and cousins could mingle unselfconsciously and the smokers could indulge, even if they could not buy their cigarettes in the store, although the eighteen year old seniors could buy for their underaged friends.

Piper bought them sandwiches and sodas, walking to a wooded lot nearby. They passed a group of older students, and Sonya caught a glimpse of her cousin, Kaitlyn, who waved at her. Sonya waved back, to the curious glances of Kaitlyn's friends.

"Where are we going?" Sonya asked.

"A little farther," Piper said.

They turned past a few trees to a spot covered with a blanket of leaves. Piper opened the brown paper bag and handed Sonya a sandwich and a Dr. Pepper. "I wanted to talk in private about Bobby."

"His brother won't be getting out any time soon—"

"Their mom doesn't know, Bobby never told her. I think he should, Rick deserves it."

Sonya did not move to unwrap her sandwich. "Don't tell me..."

"Their mom would go to work at night, and Rick would babysit. Bobby was in bed asleep, I think he said he was six years old, and Rick woke him up. He unzipped his pants and made Bobby touch him. This went on for awhile, then Rick got him to do oral sex. Finally, Bobby bit Rick in the right place and it stopped. After that, Rick only wanted to beat the crap out of him. Later, when Rick was put in therapy, he said he was molested by one of his mom's boyfriends. He was a Blue Diamond."

"I've been hearing a lot about the Blue Diamonds lately." Sonya finally unwrapped the ham and cheese sandwich and took a bite. The bread was dry. She sipped some Dr. Pepper. "My neighbor's dead husband was a Diamond."

"They were a big deal in Marine once. Sort of like Robin Hood; they'd sell their drugs but donate money to the rescue mission or the Salvation Army. My mom said the Diamonds had the police departments in their back pocket in the 70s and 80s. She's even defended a few."

"Bobby said Rick has friends in the Blue Diamonds. Don't you think that's strange?"

Piper crumpled the plastic sandwich wrap between her fingers. "Probably some younger guys. The new Diamonds aren't like the old ones, who at least could buy their own houses or bikes. The new ones are fat and lazy stoners."

Sonya thought of Barb's friend Shawn, who did not seem like white trash, although she was sure marijuana was in that bag. "My step-dad once said he wanted to write a book about the Diamonds."

"My mom said the same thing."

Sonya nodded. "Cal even knew some of them, they would tell him about whatever was going on. Those guys are all dead now."

"Informers?"

"More like a paid source. Cal got put in jail once for not giving up his sources to the police. Mom had to bail him out, I had to go with her to the courthouse." Sonya put her sandwich wrapping in the bag with Piper's. "I haven't thought about that in a long time. Mom was so mad, she had to borrow the money from Uncle Bill."

"The Diamonds got away with a lot for years," Piper said. "They were nothing but dirt-bags, rapists, and killers. These girls started to disappear. My mom went to school with one of them. Her body was found at the bottom of the lake years after. The Diamonds had a branch in Florida and they used to feed girls to the alligators in the swamps."

"I could believe that. Have you heard anything new from Jess?"

"No. She told me her cell phone was stolen when she was at the mall. This morning, Kelly told me she saw Jess talking to Todd Kemp by the library."

"The big guy in the Hoveround?" Sonya asked.

"Todd sells meds. I don't know where he gets the stuff, but he does his business off-campus. Methadone and Vicodin. He's going to end up on the Blue and White someday, no matter how repulsive the other kids think he is."

They stood for a few moments in silence. Piper was thinking about confiding in Sonya about Justine, but held back, not ready to reveal more embarrassing secrets. "Sonya, don't tell Bobby what I said about Rick."

"I won't."

"Bobby's my best friend."

"I understand."

"Have you ever heard of that saying,'Secrets never serve you well?' But confessing can make you feel just as lonely as keeping secrets."

"Everyone has secrets, so who can judge?"

"Everyone judges, too. Especially in high school."

"High school doesn't last forever, Piper."

She shrugged. "I was grocery shopping with my mom awhile back, and she saw this lady, who was very big, with her hair in one of those spiral perms. My mom said she knew that woman, they had gone to high school together. Mom said,'Her name was Heather Morris, a cheerleader. She peaked at seventeen. Her life was over at graduation. She cried that day because she already knew. I used to be jealous of her, but now she's fat and forty, just like me.' I'm going to be Heather Morris, pushing my cart through Wal-Mart."

"Maybe not, Piper. You could go to college, find a career."

"Mom's asking me what I want to do, but I don't know..."

"You're only fifteen."

"I'm not good at anything."

"You're good at everything."

"Any girl with half a brain and some coordination can be a cheerleader. My grades are good and I like to read, but that's not special."

"Everyone thinks you're special."

"Thanks."

"You're very smart."

"So are you, Sonya. I used to wish I could have been someone with a great talent; to sing like Mariah Carey or be as rich and powerful as Oprah. A movie star like Angelina Jolie. Instead, everything feels the same."

Sonya nodded. "I know what you mean."

Piper looked at her watch. "When you feel lonely and bored, you're grateful for anyone who comes along and makes you see the world in bright colors. Someone who is bold and funny. I had a friend like that once."

"Who?"

Piper shrugged. "She moved away. We better get back to class. I have another math quiz."

*****

Bill pulled the hunting bow in its case out of his bedroom closet, laying it on the bed. He looked it over, trying to remember how much he paid for the bow and when he purchased it. He shook his head. "Let Aron do that..."

He returned to the closet, retrieving the existing hunting knives in their cases. He had been more of a collector than a user of all the knives he bought. Some felt like a new discovery as Bill held the handles, admiring the blades and the workmanship. He wondered what it must have been like to make these knives for a living, to be part of some proud craft.

The clipped, sharp point of one of the knives reminded him of Mike Winstead, for some reason. He was with Mike and a few other buddies the last time he went hunting, when he became lost. Bill was sure he had taken the same knife with him that day. The wooded spot was a new place, ten miles east of North Marine. The young man who found him seemed patient and polite, around twenty years old, clean-cut, except for the army-green paint on his face, which Bill found amusing, although some of the more serious hunters used face-paint as camouflage.

Bill knew he would never hunt anymore, already putting away the mounted deer antlers and fish he had placed on the walls in his living room for years, even Sue let him hang up a few things in her house when they were married.

Bill could recall Sue's brief visit, which made him think of Tara and Kaitlyn, who had been like a granddaughter to him, the divorce breaking that bond.

Bill, as the Alzheimer's progressed, would want desperately to remember many things; sometimes he would perform a task several times in order to recall it later, whether completing a puzzle or checking the mail.

Sue had left her cell phone number, written on a yellow Post-It note. Bill had stuck the note to the wall by his phone.

Bill left his room. He checked each of the sticky notes on the wall and endtable. None of the numbers were Sue's; she had written her name on the note. He pulled all of the sticky notes together in his hand, going through each phone number and message carefully.

Helga, sensing his distress, rose from her bed and approached him, tail wagging.

Bill placed the sticky notes in front of him, on a stool. Sue's number could have been misplaced.

Why do I care? he thought. I'm better off not talking to her, anyway. Tara would be over here, borrowing money, dumping her problems on me.

He reached over, patting Helga on the head. Her life with him had lasted almost as long as any of his marriages. He could not recall the last time he spoke to John, who now had his own family.

I never apologized to him, Bill thought.

Bill had learned that Sue should never be underestimated. The woman had been too smart not to connect her separation from Bill coinciding with Carolyn's miraculous pregnancy for Sonya.

I don't think she would be waiting all of these years to stick it to me, he thought. Sue would never hurt Sonya, and I know she misses Carolyn. She came by to tell me about her cancer, but I hadn't heard from her since Carolyn died. She came to the funeral, but hardly spoke to me. They all feel sorry for me, but I'm the lucky one, I got out of that marriage.

He reached for the TV remote control, turning on the television. He became interested in a news story, forgetting about the hunting equipment in his bedroom.

*****

"Okay, Bobby," Piper said. "I'm sending you these files..."

Bobby sat on the couch in the apartment, cell phone at his ear, HP Notebook in his lap. He was sleepy from the medication, but the two broken fingers on his right hand remained numb, the middle and index wrapped tight in a splint. Rick had created a clean break, considering how enraged he had been.

Rick had found money missing from his wallet early that morning. Delia had left for work, and Bobby was alone with his brother. Rick accused Bobby of stealing from his wallet, and Bobby made the mistake of mentioning that Rick had been at the Blue Diamond club-house the night before.

"Maybe one of those meth-heads stole your money," Bobby said. "Dental work isn't cheap."

Bobby took a good slap for that remark. While he was trying to regain his balance, Rick gripped his fingers. Bobby heard the bones crack before he felt the pain. His eyes widened and Rick dropped his hand, running out of the apartment.

Bobby called his Aunt Sharon who sent an ambulance. She contacted his mother, promising that Child Protective Services would not get involved, although Delia wanted Rick in jail.

Rick had returned to the apartment and was promptly arrested by Sharon. Delia brought Bobby home and returned to work. He had been sleeping on the couch when Piper called. She explained her situation, and Bobby agreed to let her forward Justine's e-mails.

"What he did to you was assault," Piper said. "He should stay in jail."

Bobby's tongue felt thick and dry in his mouth. "I think it was what I said about the Blue Diamond club-house. I suggested that someone there could have stolen his money."

"How much?"

"I don't know, he wouldn't say. I've got your messages now. Can I read them?"

"Go ahead."

Bobby opened the e-mail Robin read that morning, his fuzzy gaze trying to take in every word:

"I wait for your arrival, all excited to see you, to hear your voice, imploring with me to reveal the identity of the Ravisher, but you will let me lead you on, won't you? Your little piggies can wait, because the last one was a senior, not a friend of theirs. What was her name? And who cares? The Ravisher, I'm sure, is planning his next conquest. He is the lone seducer and a lucky fool. He is the one they don't know how to look for, mercury slipping between their sweaty fingers. Soon, there will be piggies giving up their pearls to feel his blade. They will surrender, imagining themselves the perfect swan princess to his dark prince. You know that some of them want the attention, to see under his mask..."

Bobby shook his head. "She really wants to see you."

"I can't wait much longer," Piper said. "She knows something."

"How can you tell?"

"Justine doesn't care about anyone but herself, but she seems intrigued with what the Ravisher is doing; I think she found someone she could respect, and a guy, no less. That's a big deal."

"Is that what you're reading into this, Princess?" Bobby asked.

"She doesn't just want attention from me. She didn't always respect me, but she trusted me. It's just the opposite with this guy."

"Do you think she's afraid of him?" Bobby asked.

"Yes, and Justine is almost fearless."

"She's crazy."

"We're dealing with a lot of crazy, Bobby."

"Do you still want me to take you out to Haven Rest?"

"Let's wait a day or two."

### Part Two-The Hunt
### Chapter Ten

The boy was alone in the house; his mother at work, his father out.

He did not want to imagine what his father was doing, because it was easier for the boy to live up to his promise that way, but forgetting the dead lady had been difficult.

The excitement over a new baby was helping. The boy was not jealous, only hoping that this baby would live, and his father would be nice to it. The boy had become used to being an only child again, but the lonliness was starting to feel worse, so he was ready to welcome a new little brother or sister.

He left the TV to go to the kitchen. He found the potato chips, taking the bag into the living room. He sat on the couch, where he usually slept until his mother came home.

He had not seen much of his father since the day at the river, when he touched the dead woman. The boy spent days preoccupied with the fantasy of her awakening, dragging herself out of the water, twigs and leaves in her dripping hair. She would open her eyes, remembering how she died. She would keep walking, cold and naked, looking for his father, finding their house—

The boy shook his head, trying to erase the image from his mind. The living room was dark, so he turned on a lamp. He pulled back the front curtain, but she was not standing at the porch. He was not going to look for her anywhere else, he did not want to go out to the backyard. The neighbors were not supposed to know he was alone.

He slid off the couch and laid down on his belly on the floor. His mother had bought him a new package of crayons and big sheets of paper. He could create whatever he wanted; no one had to find his drawings, or he could throw them away. His father would never look.

The boy picked up the black crayon and began to draw her head and hair. A neck and shoulders. He was past stick figures, going for arms and hands, hips and thighs. He tried to draw feet, but returned to her face, the point of the crayon just skimming the surface of the paper.

He thought for a moment, about the swollen lips and eyelids, how she must still be sleeping in the river. But he did not have to worry; she was only a bad dream.

He put the crayon down, abandoning the drawing. He crumpled the paper between his fingers, making a ball. He stuffed it under the couch. When he was done, he grabbed the TV remote control and channel surfed, looking for anything to occupy his mind.

*****

Cal drove his old Saturn through the entrance of Whispering Pines.

The time was around eight-thirty that morning. Cal was on his way to the Marine Press when he received a call from Detective Ben Garcia of the Marine Police Department, who informed Cal that an empty house at Whispering Pines had been stripped. Garcia, who knew Cal was writing articles on the Ravisher, had already questioned the remaining inhabitants of Whispering Pines weeks ago, in connection with Jessica Holden's attack. He wanted Cal to come by to compare notes.

"I also have some info that might help us both," Garcia said. "The closest thing we may have to a witness."

Cal stared at the two-story houses with the large garages and paved driveways, most of which were of a similar design but in different colors, wooden decks surrounding thousands of square feet.

Whispering Pines was considered a failure by the locals, a casualty of the sub-prime mortgage bubble bursting. During his drive, Cal noticed several realtor's signs in the front yards, a reminder of what he had been through over the last year.

Cal slowly passed each house until he found the sprawling, two-story beige and white home in the cul-de-sac, a squad car and two other vehicles in the driveway. Several people were standing in the backyard.

Cal parked against the curb. He walked up the driveway and spotted the tall, black-haired Detective Garcia standing by a plump older woman and a teenaged boy.

"Good morning," Garcia said.

He introduced Cal to Mrs. Connelly and her son. "These two saw what was going on, thinking it was a burglary. But the foreclosure notice in the window tells me differently. Let's go in."

Cal followed Garcia through the front door, Garcia unzipping his fleece jacket as he entered. He had a tendency to dress more like a factory worker than a veteran police detective. "No forced entry. I think they were still holding on to a key."

Cal did not miss the smirk on Garcia's face. "The owners returned?"

"Their last name is Singer, and Mrs. Connelly told me that they were devastated by the foreclosure. They moved out a week ago, but I guess they decided to take as much of their house with them as they could." When he and Cal entered the foyer, Garcia pointed up. "Take a look."

Cal raised his head, the wires hanging from the ceiling, the paint and plaster torn away. "They took the chandelier?"

"That's just the beginning."

Cal followed Garcia through the living room. They stepped on the foam lining that remained after the carpet was ripped out. Other light fixtures were gone, including the ceiling fan. Wires were hanging low in the dining room, brushing against their heads.

The kitchen had been almost gutted; the island counter, cabinets, and appliances were all gone, even the sink.

"Wait until you see the bathroom," Garcia said.

"I can only imagine."

Cal found himself gawking at the spaces where the toilet, sink, and tub used to be, the tile cracked. The medicine cabinet and overhead light fixture were gone.

"How were they able to pull this off?" Cal asked. "It would take days, someone would notice."

Garcia pulled a small notepad out of his pocket. "The Singers kept coming back, but no one really noticed, which I think is fishy. Some of the neighbors knew what the family was up to, but did nothing to stop them. I think they felt sorry for them. Mrs. Connelly only called 9-1-1 because she had never been on friendly terms with the Singers, something to do with a disagreement about their dogs. This might just be a way of getting back at them, considering the others turned a blind eye."

"Seeing someone load up a truck with the kitchen cabinets would be hard to miss," Cal said.

"Not to mention the central air conditioning unit from the backyard and the hot water heater."

"What about the furnace?"

"They didn't take all of it."

Cal suppressed his laughter, but could not hide his grin. "I suppose they could sell the stuff."

Garcia nodded, but he was not amused. "Help with the rent or whatever apartment or trailer they were forced into. My daughter's home was foreclosed on after her divorce. She and my grandson had to go into an apartment and I've got the dog." Garcia opened his notepad. "Here's what I thought you might be interested in." He flipped through his notes until he came to the right page. "Brenda Wallace. Lives just down the lane. Divorced. She's a nurse that worked first shift at Marine General Hospital up until a few weeks ago, when she was switched to third. She took her daughter Melanie to her first day of school at the Marine Christian Academy. When she was pulling out of the driveway, Brenda and Melanie saw someone running past them on the lane, disappearing into the woods, around seven forty-five. They thought he was a jogger, but he was dressed in black. They saw dark hair, no ski mask. They couldn't make out his features, just the back of him."

"When did you get this information?" Cal asked.

"Days after the attack on Kristen Beck. Mrs. Wallace didn't think of it until after she read one of your articles. Melanie often goes on the Blue and White blog, she has friends at East Marine. She reminded her mother of the jogger, and talked Brenda into calling headquarters, and she was referred to me."

"That's interesting," Cal said. "But I would need more for a story."

"Yes, you would."

Cal noticed the small smile creep across Garcia's face. He must have been handsome once, but had gained weight over the years, his fondness for drinking at Champs bar, just across from the courthouse, well-known among members of the MPD. He was a good poker player, his cool demeanor and steady, dark gaze getting him through almost forty years of police work. Cal respected patient people and Garcia also had a gentleness about him, more suitable for teaching or caretaking.

"Is there more you'd like to tell me?" Cal asked.

Garcia shrugged. "This guy is running alone through Whispering Pines; no vehicle can be seen and he's concealing his face? He's only yards from Jessica Holden's house. Why was he running from Whispering Pines? I've seen Brenda Wallace's house, which is at the other end of this lane. Where did he park his car?"

Cal was still unsure what Garcia wanted from him, but he tried to answer. "Was he running from or to something?"

"Not something, someone."

"Jessica?"

Garcia nodded. "Very possible. I'm trying to find a pattern. Melanie is fifteen years old. She was going to take the bus that morning, but her mother decided to give her a ride. There are only four other girls at Whispering Pines that are around fifteen years old. These girls live in houses closer to the entrance. They wouldn't have needed to walk far to get to their bus stop. The kids would be collected there, but Melanie had a longer walk to her stop, standing alone for the Christian school bus, which comes later, but she also waits at the entrance. Jessica's stop is at the end of her block, and she makes a left from the end of her driveway to get there."

"Do you think the Ravisher was aware of their longer routes?" Cal asked.

Garcia nodded. "I think he was planning to attack two girls that morning. Mrs. Wallace's schedule was changed, and that screwed him up. Then he went running to Jessica's house."

"Circumstantial at best, Ben."

"But I think I'm getting closer, don't you? The attacker took Jessica Holden's ring and Kristen's watch. He has yet to contact Kristen. He could be a collector. I've dealt with those before; the guy that steals women's underwear from their homes or takes photos of them without their knowledge. And it could help, because he isn't leaving anything behind, he's taking things instead."

"How come there hasn't been so much as a hair found?" Cal asked.

"He's being very careful, but he'll get cocky and make a mistake. They all do."

"I couldn't help but notice that every other house in this place is for sale..."

"Brenda Wallace is also selling her place. She's already taken five thousand off her original price." Garcia waved his hand around. "Can you believe the house payments? Up to three thousand dollars a month."

"My parents believed that if you owned your house, you had made it. Now, that's nothing but a myth."

"Used to be the American dream." Garcia stuffed the notepad back in his pocket. "Now, we're all selling our LCD TVs and lap-tops for gas money."

"Thanks for sharing with me, Ben, but I have another story I'm working on—"

"Are you going to be in your office all day?"

"Most likely."

"Remember that meth lab explosion in Fruit Ridge County?"

"How could I forget?"

"The Captain might be willing to exchange some information."

"For what?"

"You'll find out. Just keep your phone on, okay?"

*****

"Uncle Bill? I'm riding my bike to the park."

Bill, engrossed in the contents of a shoebox in his lap, nodded. "Aron is coming back from the bank, then taking me to my support meeting."

Bill attended his Alzheimer's disease support group meeting every Tuesday night at the Devotion church. Aron usually went with him, leaving Sonya alone until eight o'clock.

Sonya knew she would have to be sneaky, and she did not like manipulating Bill. However, she thought that if Aron had his way, she would not be allowed to leave the yard.

"What are you looking for?" she asked.

Bill raised his head. "Your father doesn't believe me..."

"About what?"

"He said I could have sold a different knife, but I only owned one clipped-point."

"Why does he think you sold it?" Sonya asked.

"He said I told him once that Mike Winstead bought it from me. I've been trying to find a receipt, but I don't remember where I put them."

She pushed her arms through the sleeves of her red hoodie. "I'm sure you'll find it, Uncle Bill. Maybe Dad can help you."

"If I sold that knife, why would it be in my closet? I guess there had to be two."

Sonya thought about the mess in Bill's closet the day she found his door open, the light on. She shook her head. "I'll be back later."

"Okay. Be home before dark."

*****

The route to Sue's house was easy as soon as Sonya could cross Farm Road. She slid off the seat and took her bike by the handlebars, dodging busy mid-day traffic, until she came to the other side, then resumed her ride, consisting of several blocks east to Tulip Avenue.

Sonya had come to Sue's little white house often to visit with her mother, sometimes playing with Kaitlyn. Bill had lived in Sue's house for nine years during their marriage, remodeling almost every room.

Sonya's thighs were burning from exertion by the time she reached the short gravel driveway. She noticed Sue's Volkswagen parked there, the same car she had driven for years.

Sonya propped her bike against the back of the house, near the patio. She went to the side door and raised her hand to knock, but the door was already opening.

Sue stood at the threshold. She was smiling, her hair damp from the shower, wearing her Forge Plastics work shirt and pants. She was only a teenager when she gave birth to Tara; however, she looked like a woman much older. Her dark brown hair was streaked with gray, her eyes blue-green, surrounded by crow's feet and sagging brows. She had gained more weight over the years, making her appear matronly. The verical wrinkles above her upper lip were from years of smoking. Age spots covered the hand that gripped the doorknob.

Her gaze registered surprise. "Well...hello, Sonya! How are you? Come in!"

"You don't mind, do you?" Sonya asked.

"Oh, no. I don't go into work until later."

Sonya followed Sue into the house. The cigarette and coffee smell gave Sonya a sense of deja vu; Sue had worked third shift for so many years, a pot of coffee was always brewing and meals for Bill and Tara had often been improvised.

They walked across the kitchen floor Bill had constructed years ago, now covered with a red rug.

"I made brownies last night. I'll get the milk."

Sonya sat down at the kitchen table while Sue pulled out the milk and the brownies wrapped in foil. She stayed quiet until Sue approached the table, setting a full glass and a paper plate with two brownies cut large.

"I was sorry to hear about the cancer," Sonya said.

Sue sat at the chair across from her. "I found out just last month. I finally went for my yearly mammogram and the doctor found the mass in my left breast. There was a biopsy and the mass is malignant. I'll be going in for surgery next week." She pulled at a piece of brownie. "How's life with Bill and Aron?"

"It's all right."

"I had hoped to speak to you," Sue said. "I stayed and visited, but I got the impression that Bill didn't remember me."

Sonya shook her head as she swallowed. "He talked about you after you left. He said Tara wants you to sell your house."

"No way in Hell."

"That's what Uncle Bill thought." Sonya took a drink of milk. "I've seen Kaitlyn at school, but I haven't had a chance to talk to her. How is she?"

"She's good. Looking forward to graduation. She's at work right now, the L+M Market."

"Is Tara working?"

Sue rolled her eyes. "No. She's at the club-house with Axel, her boyfriend."

"Are they going to get married?"

"I don't think so. Tara is pregnant, but she'll have to take the responsibility."

"You think she can do it alone?" Sonya asked.

"No, but Axel says he's saving his money–however he earns it–to find a house. He's been married before, his kids live in Florida with their mother." She sighed. "No one wants to be married anymore."

"No one wants to get divorced."

Sue grinned. "That's true."

"When you and Uncle Bill split up, he went to live with Mom and Dad, right?"

"Yes."

"For how long?"

"Months. Until he found the house on Garland."

"Uncle Bill didn't really like my mom, did he?"

"No, but they got along all right."

"Something changed after he stayed with my mom and dad. She was pregnant for me by the time he moved out, and she hadn't been pregnant in years—"

"Sonya, what are you getting at?"

"Tell me what happened, Aunt Sue."

Sue sat back in her chair. She seemed old at that moment, and Sonya started to feel selfish, but Sue did not get angry, although her expression had become almost stony. "It wasn't your fault, Honey. You're lucky; Aron is an understanding man. A good man. Maybe better than Bill."

Sonya felt a sinking in the pit of her stomach, making her regret devouring a whole brownie. "What did he do?"

"Why does it matter now?"

"It matters to me, even if he forgets everything."

Sue shrugged. "They both love you very much. My father didn't give a damn about me; you don't know how lucky you are—"

"Why do you keep telling me I'm lucky? All I need is for someone to tell me the truth."

"It's not my place, Sonya. Ask Aron."

"I can't ask him."

Sue came forward, laying her palms on the table. "I'm trying to quit smoking. I haven't had a cigarette in a month. Bill always wanted me to quit. He would mention often that Carolyn didn't smoke, drink too much, or talk too loud. Not in her presence, but in mine. He thought Carolyn was more of a lady. I would try not to get jealous, because Carolyn would be hurt. She always gave off the impression that she wasn't attracted to Bill; he was too boring, narrow-minded. But I would catch him looking at her long hair, her body. She didn't encourage him, but she and Aron became so unhappy. One miscarriage after another..."

Sonya stayed silent as Sue fished for a pack of gum from her shirt pocket. Years spent working at Forge Plastics, handling parts hot from the machines, had made her fingers stiff and bumpy with arthritis. She folded a piece of gum into her mouth. Sonya noticed that she was missing a few teeth to the side.

Sue chewed for a moment, then resumed her story. "Bill wanted out by the time Kaitlyn was three years old. Her father had moved in with us, and Bill couldn't stand Chris, who still had a lot of growing up to do. Tara was only sixteen when she got pregnant."

"Dad said you didn't like it when Uncle Bill would send money to John."

"I couldn't keep him from wanting to help his son, but Elke had also remarried. There was no law forcing Bill to send hundreds of dollars a month out of the country. Besides, Elke left _him_. And he would be so cheap, I didn't dare quit my job at Forge. Tara would never have had enough new clothes or toys. He made it hard, too."

"Is that why you got divorced? Over money?"

"It was a lot of different things. Bill left me the year after he and Aron finished remodeling the house. We hadn't been seeing much of each other, we both worked so hard. Then Tara got pregnant, and I had became preoccupied with Kaitlyn. One morning, I came home from work and noticed that Bill had cleaned out his dresser, his suitcase was gone. We didn't have a big argument, but I guess Bill felt it was time. Tara had left Chris and come back with Kaitlyn. While they were gone, living in Falls River, we tried to make things work, but it was too late. By this time, Carolyn had told me she wanted to leave Aron. The last miscarriage, before you, had been the worst. The pregnancy lasted long enough for them to know that the baby would have been a boy. The doctor told her to think about alternatives, like adoption. She didn't blame Aron for the miscarriages, she blamed herself, and the depression made her...cold. Aron wasn't faithful, then Bill moved in with them."

Sonya looked down at the brownie crumbs on her plate. The nausea had subsided, but she felt a headache coming on. She took a deep breath before asking,"What happened then?"

"I think you're old enough to figure it out, Sonya."

"I want to hear it."

"Carolyn later told me that it was a single encounter. Bill was different from Aron. Bill wasn't her husband, he didn't care about the miscarriages so much, although I wonder if he understood how hurt Aron would be. I don't know what Bill was thinking, maybe he just wanted a woman to need him for something."

"So Mom got pregnant—"

"I don't think Aron is going to appreciate what I've already said. You want another brownie?"

"No thank you." Sonya brushed the crumbs off her lips with her fingers. Sue started snapping her gum, nervous after Sonya's questions, but Sonya made no move to leave.

"Aunt Sue, how were you able to forgive her? I mean, you and Uncle Bill were still married."

Sue stopped chewing, and Sonya could smell the fragrance of Juicy Fruit on her breath. "I have a sister, but we were never close. Carolyn was more like a sister to me. Men come and go, but you should always forgive your sisters."

### Chapter Eleven

"How are you going to control the scooter with two broken fingers?" Piper asked.

Bobby, in a black jacket and sweater, was sitting behind the handlebars. He shrugged. "Don't worry about it, Princess. Just get in my bitch-seat."

Piper put on her helmet. "I'm always in your bitch-seat."

"It should take us about an hour to get there," Bobby said. "We'll have to stop for gas at least once. You would have been better off taking the bus."

She reached her leg over the back seat, making the scooter rock for a moment. "There isn't a stop for the city bus out this far."

"Haven Rest is past the Heights, so I'll have to turn on to Berman Avenue, off of Monarch. Then turn right at Seymour..."

Bobby was still calculating the route as they started their journey, Piper confident he would figure it out.

They stayed to the side of the major roads in their area, first crossing Farm Road carefully, then going about thirty-five miles per hour up residential Pond Avenue and Fergus Road, the long stretch on Fergus taking up four miles, with Bobby trying to bypass the busy intersection near the turn-offs to the highway. By the time they reached Monarch, they had been on the road for over an hour.

Monarch Street, once residential, had been going through a developmental Hell for the last thirty years. Car dealerships, new and used, some closed, dotted the street along with Wal-Mart, fast food chains, banks, and other businesses. Bobby and Piper passed the empty parking lot of a long-closed K-Mart, a Best Western hotel across the street, once a Holiday Inn, a gas station next door. Nothing seemed permanent on Monarch; the Wal-Mart used to be a Kroger store, the Quiznos a tuxedo shop, the Marine Bank a pizza place. The only thing that stayed the same in Marine was change.

The day was mild but Piper was feeling cold in her long sweater, thick leggings, and gray trenchcoat by the time Bobby turned on to Berman, then Seymour. She could see the old brick structure that housed Haven Rest in the distance, once the spawling home of a Marine lumber baron, now a place for disturbed kids whose parents were willing to write a hefty check for their care.

Bobby cruised up to the locked gate, a call post with a buzzer to the left. Piper announced that they were there to visit a patient. They held their breath until the gate was unlocked, allowing them entrance.

Bobby parked his scooter in the small lot. "I was wondering if they would let us in without an adult."

"I didn't tell them who we wanted to visit with," Piper said. "We might get thrown out yet."

They walked up the wide brick steps to the old-fashioned porch. The sign, at the end of the driveway,was made of marble on a lead foundation and boasted 'Haven Rest Youth Home' in gold-plated letters, although the place had tried to retain some Victorian-era charm. Another buzzer allowed Piper and Bobby to open the front door, heavy with reinforced glass.

The foyer was well-lit. A portrait of the former lumber baron, Henry Seymour, was on the wall, a bald, severe-looking man in a suit from the 1890s, standing to the side of a desk, surrounded by books. His oldest son, Marshall, had been schizophrenic and Mr. Seymour donated his money to the care of the local mentally ill. At one time, young children were also patients. Haven Rest had become part of Marine lore; patients were known to escape and commit murder, even the notorious Adam Moore had been a patient. Piper knew that if any of her friends from school, except for Bobby, found out she had been anywhere near Haven Rest, the news would spread, so she was at least grateful the place was miles away.

A nurse in blue scrubs greeted them.

"We're here to see Justine Kent," Piper said. "We're friends of hers from school."

The nurse, a large woman with pale eyes that shot a quick glance over Piper and Bobby, said,"Justine doesn't get too many visitors..."

Piper nodded. "We only want to say hi. We won't stay long."

"She's medicated. She might be sleeping."

Bobby watched the nurse, waiting to see if she would give in. The woman looked tired and overworked, hardly in the mood to argue with a teenager. She reminded him of his mother that way. She looked them over again and shrugged. "If she gets up, don't keep her for more than fifteen minutes. She hasn't been making a lot of sense lately, but I'm sure you understand."

Piper nodded, her expression solemn. "Yes, ma'am."

The nurse turned around, Piper and Bobby following her down the hallway. Bobby had been expecting to see wandering patients, but the area was peaceful; a few kids sat in a small lounge, once the downstairs parlor. The walls were painted white with cheerful flowers in yellow and pink, two girls playing a game at a table. Connect Four. Bobby heard the plastic chips crash on to the table and some soft laughter. He realized how easily controlled anyone could be if they were constantly drugged. He wondered how much the patients slept in this place.

Bobby followed Piper and the nurse into an old elevator that rattled to the second floor. The nurse did not speak to them, her graying dark hair and glasses making her seem older, her skin unlined.

Bobby and Piper were escorted out of the elevator to a soothing blue hallway. They walked to the end, the area also serene, except for the sound of a television. A room contained computers and Bobby noticed a few kids inside, wearing T-shirt and jeans, not hospital gowns.

The visitor's room was also blue, but a narrow table was divided by a three foot tall piece of glass.

"You two sit at this side," the nurse said. "Justine can't be left alone outside of her room, so I'll have to stay after I bring her in."

Bobby and Piper took their seats as the door shut and locked behind the nurse.

"They don't trust her alone with other people," Bobby said.

"If she's drugged, she won't be dangerous," Piper replied.

"Do you think she can tell you anything about the Ravisher if she's out of it?"

"We'll see."

They stayed silent until the key was turned and the door clicked open. A girl with thick, long dark hair and a round, angelic face entered before the nurse, whose hands rested on Justine Kent's shoulders.

Piper's eyes widened at how heavy Justine had become; her deep, dark eyes revealed an old soul, tormented by fiery delusions and flashes of brilliance.

Justine was dressed in a gray sweatshirt, but her hair shined, the rest of her appearance clean. The nurse shuffled her over to the other side of the table and Justine sat at the chair.

Piper would not have made any move to approach or hug Justine, because their relationship never needed touch, just talk. Justine's descent into schizophrenia had changed her from a vital, opinionated girl to someone manipulative and cold. She was always charismatic, able to get people to do what she wanted, including her mother, friends, and teachers. As her behavior became more dark and erratic, she did not seem to care about the feelings of others, and who she favored as friends could change daily. By the eighth grade, she had been written off by the teachers at the Crandall Academy, not out of disgust, but fear. She just had a way of making everyone feel unimportant and stupid, except for Piper. For some reason, Piper understood her. The rumors of Justine being gay only made her more _persona non grata_. No one at the conservative Crandall wanted to deal with a gay or mentally ill student. But Justine never failed to get attention, especially with her singing and painting. One Christmas, her rendition of 'Ave Maria' at assembly drove some of the faculty to tears, and she was forgiven for awhile. By this time, she was coming to school only twice a week, skipping classes and painting at home or wandering the old mall downtown, Piper frequently accompanying Justine on these day trips.

Piper was not rebellious by nature, but she had become protective of Justine, their bond like sisters, but Piper later realized that she was the only one who really needed that bond. Justine was so indifferent behind all of that charm, her coldness the lone barrier keeping her violent tendencies at bay.

She showed Piper her art, canvasses featuring striking interpretations of flowers and animals in red, yellow, black, and blue. Piper would visit Justine at the large house she shared with her parents in Holland Hills. Mrs. Kent did not work, but Mr. Kent was an engineer. Mrs. Kent was also a bit fragile, and Justine told Piper that her mother went to therapy twice a week; she had been raped when Justine was six years old. The attacker was never captured.

Bobby looked across at the fat, sleepy-looking girl. Her eyes were enough to set her apart, and Bobby felt uncomfortable under her gaze, as if she could size him up with one glance.

Justine face split into a warm grin through the glass. "Glad you could make it."

Piper knew to keep their conversation light, with the nurse standing by. "I got your e-mails..."

Justine rested her hands on the table, her nails long but ill-kept, the ends uneven and ragged. "Have you seen my old friend?"

Piper shook her head, but understood the cryptic question. "No. I wouldn't recognize him."

"That's right. You've never met him, but he's the type no one notices, a real chameleon. Like that song. Remember Boy George? You couldn't tell if he wanted to be male or female. People get confused like that sometimes. Another friend took an art class with me, cutting pictures of women out of magazines and then ripping up the faces with scissors or his fingers. He wanted to reach the skin..."

"Do you contact him?" Piper asked.

Justine smirked, shaking her head. "No. But he's just getting started."

Piper came closer, her breath on the glass. "Justine, I've missed you. We were best friends once. Are you okay here?"

Justine did not blink. "I'm fine."

"Do you sleep a lot?"

"Yes. Who is your friend?"

"This is Bobby."

Bobby gulped, then licked his dry lips. "Hello, Justine."

"You're pretty."

"Thanks."

"Do you remember his name?" Piper asked.

"Who?" Justine asked.

"Your friend, the chameleon."

"Oh. It's not important now." She pulled her hands away. "I'm getting tired. What's for dinner, Lauren?"

The nurse once again placed her hands on Justine's shoulders. "Fried chicken."

"I hope its cooked all the way this time. I suppose I'll have to eat in the cafeteria with everyone else." Justine rose from her seat. "Thank you for coming, Piper. Nice to meet you, Bobby."

"I'll come back," Nurse Lauren said.

She took Justine out, the door locking. Bobby sighed in relief, and Piper turned to look at him.

"What?" he asked.

"She can't help it."

"Look, Rick makes me nervous." Bobby held up his bandaged fingers. "But she's the type who could get people to drink poison."

Piper turned her head, staring at the door. Nurse Lauren appeared a few minutes later to let them out. She did not speak during the walk down the hall or the ride in the elevator. She let them out the door, not even saying good-night.

Bobby and Piper were approaching the steps when she covered Bobby's arm with her hand. "Justine wasn't always like this. She was my first kiss."

"Then you see something I don't."

"She knows who the Ravisher is, she just doesn't want anyone else knowing."

They finished walking to the scooter and Bobby handed her a helmet. "I understand that Justine is schizophrenic, but she seems calm on meds. Why can't she go home?"

"I don't think her parents trust her."

"She wouldn't hurt them, would she?"

"They might think she could hurt someone else. That's what she did at Crandall."

"She stabbed some boy who was picking on her—"

"He would try to bully her. She would tell him off, but he started to turn nasty. At the same time, she was getting worse. She was writing these stories, and she would give them to me. The stories were about these boys who were evil aliens and shape-shifters from Pluto who had to hide in a private school because they were being hunted by a group of outlaw bikers who were really fallen angels. These guys could only kill the aliens by sucking the fluid out of their spines." Bobby's surpressed chuckle did not stop Piper as she went on. "The fluid could be sold by the bikers to certain Hollywood celebrities to keep them thin and young."

"The outlaw bikers would be Blue Diamonds, right?"

Piper nodded. "She smuggled a knife into school and stabbed that boy, Devon Post, in the back. He was getting something out of his locker and she sneaked up on him. I never liked Devon; he had a big mouth, but his kidney was damaged when she stabbed him. Around this time, I had asked her if she believed what she was writing. She didn't answer me, but she was starting to drift away. The day before, we were in Math class, and the teacher, Mr. Olsen, called her up to the board to solve a problem. He was one of the teachers who thought Justine was a discipline case, but he was wrong. While she had her back to everyone, she bit into her finger and solved the math problem with her blood on the board. Mr. Olsen thought it was red ink until she went back to her desk and he saw her sucking her finger. He sent her to the principal's office."

"Did her parents just ignore it?" Bobby asked.

"At first. I think they were afraid."

"What were they like?"

"Her dad was a quiet guy, always at work. Her mom took a lot of naps. Pills and wine. Lived in Holland Hills. They had a cook and a housekeeper."

"Did I ever tell you that Rick spent some time here, a few years ago?"

"No," Piper said.

"He tried to kill himself again. We were renting a house then, and he holed himself up in the garage with the car running. The paramedics saved his life and his doctor sent him here. He didn't stay long. Mom couldn't afford it, so they just put him on some new meds."

"Is he still in jail?"

"Yes. And he can stay there." Bobby put on his helmet, Piper doing the same. "Princess, maybe you should tell the police what Justine told us."

"But I would have to explain why I was here, to them and to Mom. Besides, Justine is no stranger to the police, they might think she's just talking crazy."

"What about that Boy George remark? Is the Ravisher confused about his gender?"

Piper, her helmet on, mounted the scooter behind Bobby. "Would that have something to do with cutting up photos of womens' faces out of magazines?"

"You know who we should tell," Bobby said.

"I'll call Sonya when we get back."

### Chapter Twelve

The first thing Sonya noticed about Kristen Beck was that she was eating her lunch alone.

"Piper went to cheerleading camp with her," Bobby said. "She's okay, but she doesn't talk to lower classmen. Actually, she barely talks to seniors. Her boyfriend goes to the community college..."

"Cheerleaders don't usually keep to themselves," Sonya said. "Unless..."

"She's not a cheerleader anymore."

Kristen kept her bandaged face down as she ate her sandwich, taking fast bites over her stitched lower lip. She wanted out of there, getting her first day back at school finished.

The table across from her was fully inhabited, including Kaitlyn and her boyfriend. Some of these seniors shot glances Kristen's way, but did not approach her.

Sonya waited until Kristen rose from her seat to take her tray back to the kitchen. Sonya chose to follow her, curious stares coming from Piper and the other girls sitting with Jess.

Kristen discarded her tray to find Sonya standing behind her. She gave Sonya a hard look, knowing her face from the Blue and White. "What?"

"My name is Sonya. Sonya Neslund."

Kristen pulled a lock of dark hair away from her face, and Sonya noticed that her eyes were red and swollen. "I know."

"I just want to talk."

"I talked to the police. Told them everything. He cut up my face, took my watch. That's it."

"Has he e-mailed you?"

"No, but the old guy keeps asking, too."

"Who?"

"Garza? Garcia? The cop. He took pictures of my cuts before the stitches. Asked me about the guy, the knife, what he said. To be honest, I'm tired of talking about it—"

"You won't be the last girl."

Kristen crossed her arms over her chest. "I don't care."

"I think you do, but you're just too scared—"

"You know, if you're not careful, the last girl might be you, then you'll get to walk around–" she pointed the bandages on her cheeks and forehead–"with everyone knowing how stupid you are."

She turned and walked away, leaving the cafeteria. Sonya did not follow her, but encountered several hard stares from Kaitlyn's table, including Kaitlyn. Sonya felt her cheeks get red, but she scowled back. She did not care what they thought because they were hypocrites; Kristen was unwelcome at their table with her damaged face, but they were willing to come to her defense when she was not around.

Sonya, however, did not go back to her table. Instead, she scanned each of their faces, wondering if she would find the story on the Blue and White by today, if SkolClik was at that table with the other popular seniors.

Sonya took her time getting back to Bobby, feeling as if she had fallen into an Old West movie, the cafeteria suddenly a saloon.

Bobby, who had witnessed the whole scene, remained silent as Sonya collected her backpack to leave. He followed her out, the bell ringing a few miunutes later.

*****

Sonya's mood did not improve when she got off the bus, followed by the Four Js on their bicycles. She looked up to see Trey's red truck drive past.

"Hey, Sonya!"

She turned around to see Kyle standing at the end of his driveway by the mailbox. He waved, and Sonya followed.

*****

Sonya slipped into the passenger side of the Camaro.

"The new brakes didn't cost as much as I thought," Kyle said, "so I used my new credit card. Trey helped me, took all day after we got out of work."

Sonya squirmed a bit in the bucket seat, the cream vinyl interior sporting only a few cracks, the engine quiet.

Kyle put the car in drive and they cruised out of the driveway. Soon, he turned on to Farm Road.

"So," Kyle said, "you met Shawn..."

"Shawn?"

"On Friday night."

"Oh, him. Yeah."

"That's what the Blue Diamonds have come down to. Dime bags of weed. Once, there was practically a cartel here."

Kyle made a left turn, cruising towards the park.

"Smooth ride," Sonya said.

"Yes, it is."

"Did your dad...ever tell you things? About the Diamonds?"

"You mean, their business?"

Sonya nodded.

"I was too little. Later, I asked my mom about what he did, but she didn't want to talk about it."

He cruised up to a space in the park, then turned off the car. Sonya looked around, noticing that no one else was present. She raised her hand, resting her fingers on the door handle. "I should be getting back, my dad's been worried since the attacks..."

Kyle nodded and started up the car. "Kristen's brother Tony has been driving around, thinking he can find the guy..."

"This is going to sound crazy," Sonya said, "but do you think the Ravisher could be a Blue Diamond?"

Kyle shrugged, his wrist on the steering wheel as he drove. "Who knows? If he's one of the young Diamonds, there's not very many to consider. Only about six are at the club-house now."

"Are you a member?"

"No. And I don't want to be. I love those guys, but I have to stay out of jail; Mom and my brothers need me. Besides, I've heard they might close their chapter here, taking all of the business back to Florida."

"What kind of business? I mean, besides drugs?"

"Small-time prostitution, which is the only kind in Marine. Donut and Waylon own a strip club, Diamond Girls, downtown." Kyle turned back on Farm Road. "The old timers will die off, and the young ones will head for Florida, where they can ride their bikes year 'round."

"Why do they have so many friends here?" Sonya asked.

"Because they've been around for over thirty years. And some of them were good guys in their own way, they were able to earn some trust." Kyle turned right on to Garland. "Especially with drugs. If not weed, then meth. The people around here are working two jobs or more, getting depressed about their debt. Speed is the perfect drug for the wage slave; gives you energy to work forever and forget about the bill collectors. Every other guy I work with smokes meth before he comes into work. They're obnoxious and paranoid, but they never miss a day."

They reached Sonya's house, and she noticed the truck by the garage.

"Thanks for the ride," she said. "Now you can take yourself to work."

Kyle grinned. "Trey still owes me a favor. But I'll be on my own soon."

"You're moving out?"

"Maybe I'll get an apartment, but I won't be far away. The Js would drive Mom crazy without me."

"Did your mom and dad expect to have quadruplets?"

"No. They only wanted one baby after Lily died, but multiple births can happen with fertility drugs."

"My Uncle Bill still remembers going to your sister's funeral."

"I was only five years old, I don't have too many memories about it, just my mom being sad for awhile."

"I'm sorry."

"It was crib death. Mom was the one that found her, she blamed herself."

"How did your dad take it?"

"He would drink more, take off. Dad was never a family man, but even he got excited over Mom having quads. He considered it a blessing."

"I think it would be."

Kyle nodded. "I see your uncle looking through the curtain."

"I better go in. Thanks again."

*****

Sonya was not surprised by Aron's words.

"Kyle Stone is too old for you."

He was at the kitchen table, reading the paper. The expression on his handsome face remained neutral, and he did not make eye contact.

Sonya could have argued, but she ignored him, taking her backpack upstairs. She pulled out her lap-top and read through her list:

SkolClik-Blue and White

FriendsRing

Creepy e-mail to Jess.

Jess's e-mail address and ring

Rick Chambers-suspect?

The cuts and the knife

The Blue Diamonds

Piper had called Sonya last night, describing her visit with Justine Kent.

Sonya added:

Whispering Pines

Kristen's watch

Justine Kent and her e-mails

Havenrest

As an afterthought:

The chameleon-male or female?

Sonya heard a knock at the attic door. When she opened it, she saw her father standing there.

"Come down."

Sonya, familiar with that tone of voice, joined him in the short hallway.

"You need to stop taking off as soon as you get home from school," Aron said. "You tell Bill you're going to the park, but I didn't find you there. I don't know where you're going, but don't take advantage of Bill, you hear me?"

Sonya kept her voice low, but she could feel herself losing her patience. "I would never do that to him—"

"Sue called me, the same day you told Bill you were going to the park."

"Okay. I went to see Aunt Sue. Big deal."

"You rode your bicycle by yourself for miles just to visit someone—"

"I can visit Aunt Sue if I want."

"There's the telephone, Sonya. What did you want from Sue?"

"I'm sure she told you."

"No, she didn't. I want to hear it from you."

"Are you sure, Dad?"

He ignored her sarcasm. "What do you want? A DNA test?"

"Maybe. But it's not like you'd do it."

"We'll talk about this some other time. If you need to go anywhere, wait until I get home—"

"Where have _you_ been going?"

"What?"

"Almost every day I come home, you're gone. Do you have a job?"

"I've been taking some classes at the unemployment office. Resume writing, computer skills, that sort of thing. I need to do it to get my extension for another six months."

Sonya saw the expression on his face, and felt her temper cool. Aron could not hide every emotion, he was too sensitive, in spite of his impatient nature.

"Have you had any interviews?" she asked.

"No, not since last week."

"Aunt Sue didn't tell me anything. And if I need to go somewhere, I'll get a ride, okay?"

"It's just until this guy is found."

"He won't get found for awhile, Dad."

*****

Kristen and her older brother Tony, at the wheel of his car, cruised into Whispering Pines.

"Why here?" Kristen asked.

Tony's headlights flashed on each 'For Sale' sign as he drove up the main drag from the entrance. Kristen looked over at her good-looking brother; long, dark bangs hanging over his striking blue eyes and long lashes, his features still soft except for the long nose. As a high schooler, he had played football, a knee injury in his senior year taking him out of sports and away from a scholarship. Since graduation two years ago, he had worked at various jobs, including construction and factory work in Marine.

Tony drove to the back of the subdivision, where a series of houses, construction abandoned months ago, sat to rot for the winter. Skeletons made of lumber were covered in thick sheets of plastic.

"Do you ever get a bad feeling, Kris?" Tony asked.

"Yeah. A lot, lately."

He looked over at his sister's bandaged face. After all of the police interviews with their questions and photographs, Tony could not help but feel that the police did not know what direction to go, with no witnesses and only the testimony of two teenaged girls, whose only instinct was to blame themselves, especially Kristen.

The miscarriage was enough to make Kristen tight-lipped and hostile. Tony had gone to visit Darius, who insisted that he did not know and Kristen had broken up with him over the phone the night before, while she was still at the hospital. Her father, who never felt close to either of his children, could only point his finger at his wife and Tony, as if they failed somehow. The night of Kristen's attack, he returned to work after an hour at the hospital, leaving Kristen's mother and Tony to deal with the police. Their mother bought a case of beer she later shared with her husband when he came home, Kristen still at the hospital, asleep on pain killers.

"Jess Holden lives just over there," Kristen said. "Is that why we're here?"

Tony shook his head. "When I worked for Lister Construction, Old Man Lister hired guys from all different backgrounds. A lot of them didn't speak English, some had been to prison. Lister could pay them the lowest wages possible, and they were grateful for a job. But, a few years later, that started to change. A lot of good workers, with references and experience, were losing their jobs in Marine, so they were also willing to take whatever came along. Lister started to hire more college guys and older men. We were a real mixed bag out here, building these houses fast. I used to wonder, if I kept working hard, I could live in a new house..."

Kristen shook her head. "Not likely."

The house Tony and Kristen lived in with their parents was small and old, their father making few improvements over the years. Tony never had a room of his own, sleeping on the couch with his dresser in the hallway. Kristen's room had once been a closet, with just enough space for a bed, her clothes kept in their parents' room.

"Lister," Tony said, "if he was going to fire anyone, would target the tweakers and the ex-cons. The rest of us just shut up and did what we were told. The rumor had already started that Whispering Pines was a flop, even though some of the houses were selling, people were moving in." Tony started to chew on his thumbnail, a sign that he was putting his thoughts together. "They weren't all families, but divorced ladies. There was this guy on the crew, he would peep through their windows..."

Kristen shrugged. "Guys peep all the time."

"Not on the job. This guy was different, because he didn't get fired, he quit. Later on, I saw him at the mall. I can't remember his name, though."

"That doesn't narrow it down."

"There's nothing to narrow it down, Kris. The police know it, too."

"Garcia is waiting for that e-mail," she said.

"The psycho will screw up, and that's what the cops are really waiting for."

"That Sonya girl is right, I won't be the last. What will he do next time? Rape? He could've cut my throat—"

"Kris, he knows better. He wouldn't kill—"

"Why? A shorter prison term if he's caught?"

"No. Death isn't good enough for this guy. He can only humiliate the girls if they live. They have to go to school with bandages on their faces. They'll stick out, get pointed at. End up on the Blue and White. It's all going his way now. If that were to stop, then he would get worse, believe me."

Kristen could feel the itching underneath her bandages. "Do you think that peeper could be the Ravisher?"

"He wasn't around here for long, but he was weird. That's all I've got."

"Chip called and asked me if I still wanted my job. Kinsey and Lucy already quit, their parents told them to."

"Well, that puts Chip out, doesn't it?"

"I told him I didn't want to quit."

"What? Are you kidding?"

"Maybe he'll come back. I'm going to ask Garcia about it, see what he thinks. Besides, I don't think I'll be able to find another job, and I need the money."

"Is Chip okay with you being at the counter with your bandages?" Tony asked.

"He said he didn't care."

"I think you're crazy, and Chip must be desperate."

"Thanks a lot."

Tony smacked his hand against the steering wheel. "You know what I mean. But if you're going through with this, make sure Garcia knows first. And he might try to talk you out of it, too."

"I don't think he will. They need help, and it's something I can do besides sitting around feeling sad and angry."

"What if some kid from school comes into the Chester Chicken and makes some remark?"

"I don't care what they think."

Kristen had always been headstrong, something that did not always work in her favor. "Then care about what I think and be careful. If he comes back, what will you do? You don't even know what he looks like. He could come into the place, eat his chicken, and watch you work, admiring what he did to you the whole time. And don't think for a minute that you're driving home alone at night—"

"Garcia might get a cop to take me home. I haven't even discussed it with him yet, it's just an idea. He might not want to go along."

"And if he doesn't?"

"I'm not quitting my job. Dad and I are the only two working right now, and he had to borrow gas money from me last week, and I think it almost killed him. He'd rather see me dead than have to ask me for help."

"I gave him lunch money, but I think he spent it on a forty ounce."

"Mom stole my pain killers after she had the prescription filled."

"How does she feel about you going back to work?"

"She won't even notice."

### Chapter Thirteen

Emily Watts balanced herself on her bike while tossing a rolled-up Marine Press towards her neighbors' doorstep. She had the task mastered, the paper not unfolding until hitting the steps.

Emily, her black hair in a single braid down her back, kept her long denim skirt in place as she pedaled to the next house, the heavy bag filled with newspapers swinging at the handlebars. The neighborhood was located just a few blocks from Sue on Tulip Avenue.

Farley Street was a quiet dirt road and few people were out early that Saturday morning. Emily continued to deliver several more papers before she came to the end of the block.

She was turning her bike around when she was tackled to the side and knocked over. Her leg was trapped under the bike and heavy bag.

She took in the black clothing and ski mask. In spite of her shock, she knew who he was, and she began to thrash, only a weak squeal coming out between her lips. He grabbed her by the hair, shoving a cloth in her mouth.

Emily did not see the dull blade, which made the work slower, the cuts not going as deep. However, the point was sharp, and he dug into the meat of her cheek, pulling the metal out, then moving on to the next. Emily did not make it easy for him, because her hands were free. He put her neck between his knees, keeping her head in place. She pulled at his thighs with her hands, trying to get him off-balance, but he was too strong.

He pawed at the left side of her head and pulled it down, grasping her ear, the lobe between his fingers. Emily never stopped squirming, but he would not let go, the sharp point diving into the soft flesh.

He took the piece of her ear, letting go of her head, but not before pulling the cloth out of her mouth. After he ran off, Emily rose slowly and took the cell phone from her pocket, but she did not call the police. Instead, she called her mother, who she had left sleeping at home. Emily was still in shock, so she did not feel the warm blood from her face and ear as she calmly explained to her mother what happened. When she ended the call, she closed her phone, and pulled herself out from under the bike and newspapers. She crawled away on her knees, but laid down on her side, bringing her hands together by her lips. She could smell the fresh blood on her face, but her mind went somewhere else as she recited the Lord's prayer.

*****

From the Blue and White- Sept. 10, 20--

The Next Contestant –

Emily Watts, freshman and lone Pentacostal of East Marine High School, was attacked by the Ravisher on Saturday morning, her ear lobe cut off. She was found praying by police, probably asking God why the crazy bastard didn't go after one of the many hopeless sinners at our school. My sources told me that only a few suspects have been questioned. The MPD has never had to deal with attacks like this before; the guy leaves nothing behind, except for the damage on the girls' faces. Before you know it, girls will be told not to go anywhere alone. But why should it be their fault? The Ravisher should have been caught before Kristen or Emily. Except for the victims, not one witness. This guy is smart, he won't start getting sloppy for awhile.

On a side note, Emily finally got her wish and is being pulled permanently from school by her parents. She had no friends, but she never got her ass kicked; harmless enough to be a nobody until now..."

*****

The following Saturday, Sonya pulled together her list and other notes, stuffing these papers in a folder. She then sat at her bed, pulling her phone out of her backpack.

She had not called Cal since the woman answered his phone, but Sonya was willing to try again, if only to get Cal to tell her what he knew about the Ravisher.

Cal broke the news in his latest article that Kristen had received an e-mail from the Ravisher just hours before the attack on Emily. The details were not printed, but Sonya was sure Cal had a copy of the e-mail.

Sonya had read the blog entry about Emily in the Blue and White, and once again found ghost94, who left another blistering reply:

"Does she believe in God now? Let the bitch bleed, she'll have some idea of how Jesus felt."

Sonya had discussed ghost94 with Bobby and Piper and added the mysterious poster to her list, along with digging out the lists of friends from FriendsRing. She was planning to show all of her notes to Cal.

She took a deep breath and dialed his number.

"Hello?"

Cal's voice. She sighed in relief. "Hi, Cal. Sonya here. Are you busy today?"

"I'm at the paper."

"I need to see you. About the attacks."

"I'll be working all day."

"Can I see you there?"

"If you can get a ride over here."

"Dad will take me."

*****

Aron, after some discussion, drove Sonya over to the Marine Press building downtown, with the deal that Cal would bring her home.

Cal met Sonya at the front doors of the old Press building, and they hugged. "Good to see you, dear."

She nodded, her heart warming in his presence, because he reminded her of her mother. She noticed he was still thinner, wearing his green Michigan State sweatshirt. "I'm glad to see you, too."

"I'm surprised Aron brought you."

Sonya, with her folder under her arm, followed Cal down the old hallway, walls covered in gray marbled tile, something from sixty years ago. The elevator, which resembled a metal cage, rattled to the second floor. Cal pushed the door open with some effort, Sonya following.

"What's going to happen to this place?" she asked.

"If the owners are smart, they'll tear it down and start over."

"Come on, you don't mean that."

"No, I don't. But did you see what the old mall building looks like?"

"The roof is in the parking lot."

"More condos are coming," Cal said.

"Please, no. Not more one hundred thousand dollar turds nobody wants."

"Like Whispering Pines."

Sonya walked behind Cal to his small office. He unlocked the door while she stared at the water-stained ceiling, which sported several loose wires.

She found the same battered leather chair she used to sit in. She laid the folder on his cluttered desk as Cal sat at his chair. "These are things I've been writing down. Has the MPD seen the Blue and White?"

"Yes. The school blog, right?"

"Every time there's a post about the attacks, someone named ghost94 leaves a nasty reply. Sometimes more than one—"

"Garcia has been trying to trace some of the members for questioning, but you're talking about hundreds of people, some of whom are adults or don't even live in Marine."

"FriendsRing?"

"Same thing. Garcia would need a warrant to get past the security the owners of FriendsRing use to protect their members."

"Wow. I didn't know that."

"Garcia feels like he's being stone-walled, so he's looking at other leads for now."

"What about the e-mail to Kristen?"

"What about it?"

"Can I see it?"

"Sure. Why not?"

Sonya stood behind Cal as he clicked his mouse on the e-mail, which filled the screen of his Dell. Cal moved his seat over, so she could read:

"Kristen–

I am going out again on my quest to recapture those moments of surrender you brought me that night. You did not fight, accepting my blade into your flesh. You let me bless you, bleeding for me. I have kept your watch at that perfect time, that moment when I had to leave you. But I have to forget, because my quest demands a new face.

Sincerely

Your Ravisher."

"Garcia managed to trace the e-mail to the Starbucks at the Four Winds Mall," Cal said. "The Ravisher used a Yahoo address, and his information could be fake, but Garcia said he would check it out."

"No one asks for a Social Security number just to get an e-mail address," Sonya said.

"Right. Anyone can disappear."

"What about the cuts? The knives used?"

"There may be two or three different blades involved. The knife that was used on Jessica Holden was definitely not used on Emily Watts. He had to stab into Emily's face, and Jessica's cuts were deep but smooth. Kristen's were also a clean cut."

"He took jewelry from Jess and Kristen, but not Emily. Why did he take her earlobe instead?"

"I don't know. Pentacostal women don't wear a lot of jewelry, but he could have been looking for an earring. Or he could be getting worse."

"Does Garcia know what kind of knives the Ravisher could be using?"

"Hunting knives, most likely."

Sonya flipped open her folder. "There's hunting stores all over Marine."

"And how many guys own knives like that?"

"Hunters like Uncle Bill." Sonya pulled out her hand-written list, which she handed to Cal.

"Who's Rick Chambers?" he asked.

"My friend Bobby's brother. He can be violent, he has friends in the Blue Diamonds, and they keep coming up..."

"I wouldn't be surprised if there was a connection, but where's your proof?"

"Only from Justine Kent, Piper's friend."

"Why does that name sound familiar?"

"She's at Haven Rest. She stabbed a boy at the Crandall Academy."

"Was that recent?'

"Last year."

"I'm thinking of something from farther back, maybe ten years ago. A woman was raped. She insisted her rapist was a Blue Diamond, but there was no proof." Cal raised his finger, then nodded. "Now I remember. Angela Kent. She was beat up bad, her nose and jaw broken. She and her little girl were found in a cabin—"

Cal's cell phone started to ring at his desk. He picked it up. Sonya watched his gaze switch back to her. "Yes, Ben. Sure, send it to me. I'll be here all day." He closed the phone. "The Ravisher just e-mailed Emily. Garcia's going to forward a copy."

"They've been sharing a lot with you lately," Sonya said.

"I think Captain Schultz wants a little help from the Press. Can you believe it?"

"I thought he hated you."

Cal grinned. "So did I, especially after I wouldn't reveal my source on that drug bust in the Heights. But Garcia was trying to use the meth lab explosion in Fruit Ridge as a carrot to get me to go along."

"Will you?"

"Of course."

"Have you ever spoken to a Blue Diamond named Shawn?"

"Shawn who?"

"I don't know his last name, but he hangs out at the club-house with Barb Stone, my neighbor."

"The lady with the quadruplets?"

"Yeah. Her husband was a Blue Diamond." Sonya passed Cal her FriendsRing lists. "One of these lists belongs to Jess Holden, the others are Bobby's and Piper's."

"Are you on FriendsRing?" Cal asked.

"No. Not even Facebook or Twitter."

"These lists are long. Have you made any matches?"

"Not yet. I've been busy."

"Going to school everyday?"

"Yes, I am."

"How are you and Aron getting along?"

"All right. I just wish he would leave me alone sometimes."

Cal suppressed his smile. "It's called parental supervision, Sonya."

"You and Mom gave me plenty of supervision."

"No, we didn't. Especially when Carolyn was dying. You were left to your own devices too much."

"I never did anything stupid, Cal."

"There's always a first time. The Ravisher seems to like your area, so I can't blame Aron for nagging you about taking off alone on your bike." Cal turned around, checking his e-mail. "Here it is. Let's take a look."

Sonya peered over Cal's shoulder as he opened the Ravisher's new message.

Cal's gaze dashed over the two sentences. He shook his head. "This isn't the same guy."

"You're right," Sonya said.

The message read:

"Emily–

Burn in Hell, you self-righteous bitch. Walk the earth a freak forever."

"He's not even trying," Sonya said. "The Ravisher signs off with his own name."

"He believes he's having an intimate relationship with his victims, his messages almost like love letters. This is bogus, and I'm sure Ben knows it."

"The only way anyone could send Emily a message is if that person has her e-mail address," Sonya said.

"Have you ever spoken to Emily?"

"No. She wasn't friendly and Bobby said the other kids made fun of her at the middle school for being Pentacostal; the long hair and skirts. She prayed over her lunch in the cafeteria, wouldn't wear a costume on Halloween, that sort of thing. I don't care. I mean, there's always the religious kids."

"Do you ever speak to Maddy or Claire anymore?"

"Oh, no. Not since before Mom got sick. Maddy moved to Wyoming with her parents and Claire...I don't know. I haven't seen her around. Besides, I have new friends."

"That's good." Cal took the e-mail message off the screen. "All Garcia will have to do is trace the address on the message. They can try to find the sender, but it's a waste of time. Probably from a library or Starbucks. Are you hungry?"

Sonya shrugged. "A little."

"Let's walk over to Edie's Cafe."

"I tried calling you last week," Sonya said, "and a woman answered your phone."

"Oh. That was Barbara. She needed to borrow my phone. She's Burt's secretary."

Burt Snyder was the senior editor. "I hung up on her."

"Her phone needed to recharge, so I let her borrow mine to call her husband at home." Cal grabbed his jacket from behind his seat. He turned around to see Sonya's attempt at hiding the embarrassment on her face. "What did you think? That I had a girlfriend?"

Her smile was forced. "Maybe..."

"Don't worry—"

"I couldn't stop you."

"It's too soon. Carolyn's only been gone since April."

"You might want to date someday," Sonya said.

"Someday will come when its ready."

*****

Sonya, after Cal drove her home, found Aron in the kitchen, frying hamburgers. Bill sat at the table.

Helga, tail wagging, approached Sonya, who patted the Boxer's big head. "I had dinner with Cal."

Aron nodded. "Barb came by. She saw you leave with Kyle in his car that day. She was hinting around—"

"Nothing happened, Dad."

"That's what I told her. She told me Kyle was dating a sixteen year old girl last year. Did he tell you that?"

"No."

"She dumped him."

"Did Barb mention her name?"

"No. She seemed almost apologetic, for some reason. I told her not to worry, but that I thought Kyle should date girls his own age."

Aron laid the cooked hamburgers on a plate covered with a paper towel, the package of buns and bottles of mustard and catsup nearby. Bill rose from his seat and put together his burger at the counter, squirting catsup on his bun.

"I always wondered why that boy sold his dad's bike," Bill said. "Nice Harley. Probably sold it to another Diamond."

Sonya opened the bag of potato chips, pulling on the top seam with her fingertips. "Kyle said he doesn't want anything to do with the Diamonds. He doesn't want to end up in jail."

"That's where they all go."

"Cal's putting his notes together for a book."

Bill sat at the table with his plate. "I remember when he was arrested. Cal was writing all of his articles about the Diamonds then, after the big drug bust. He refused to give up a source, but Cal later told me that his source was an informant and a Blue Diamond. Cal had no idea this guy was getting money from the Press and the MPD. The informant had a sister that disappeared, and she was an old lady to another Diamond, so the cops didn't care, but Cal told the guy he would look into it. She was never found. If you ask me, some of those girls were taken to Florida and fed to the 'gators."

Aron stared at Bill, amazed at his brother's recall of the distant past, as the older man continued to eat. "The Diamonds were running wild in those days."

Bill took a sip of beer while throwing Helga his last bite of burger. "Marine was full of bad men then. Good riddance to 'em."

### Chapter Fourteen

After school the next day, Aron gave Sonya a ride to Piper's house.

Sonya was greeted by Piper, Jo-Jo in her arms. The little poodle trembled when Sonya petted her.

"She has an ear infection," Piper said. "I had to give her an antibiotic, and she gets mopey."

Sonya followed Piper to the living room, where Piper laid Jo-Jo on the chocolate sofa.

"Do you like piano?" she asked.

"Yes," Sonya said.

"Let me play you something."

Sonya sat down next to Piper at the white Steinway, sun coming through the picture window. Piper's fingers covered the keys, not looking at the sheet music in front of her. Sonya's ears filled with the opening strains to the melancholy Moonlight Sonata, the notes tinkling like raindrops, then soaring. Whenever Sonya heard this music, she thought of birds flying over dark, still water; a place where humans have never walked, only haunted by its own beauty, its own immortality. As she sat next to Piper, she imagined the unexplored parts of rain forests, never having been captured by a camera lens. She dreamed of going to places like these, her grief and attic room far behind.

She only came out of her trance when Piper stopped playing. "Sonya?"

"Yes?" She blinked a few times, then smiled. "Thank you, Piper."

"Oh, you're welcome. I don't practice as much as I used to. I wanted to be a concert pianist once. I used to accompany Justine when she would sing. You should've heard her. Beautiful soprano, like an angel."

"Was she...your girlfriend?"

"Yes, I guess she was."

"Do the other girls at school know?"

"Maybe. But I don't care."

"SkolClik has tried to 'out' some kids on the site."

"He's usually wrong, believe me."

"Who do you think SkolClik is?"

"A junior or a senior. Someone who is there everyday."

"He's always mentioning that he has sources, like a journalist," Sonya said.

"Maybe he writes for the school paper, but he could also be one of those kids who stays on the outside, but is always paying attention."

"Like a chameleon."

"I asked Bobby to send you her e-mails."

"I haven't checked."

"I can show you on my PC upstairs."

Sonya followed Piper to her pink bedroom, sitting next to her at her computer.

"My mom is more likely to check my lap-top," Piper said, "so I've been keeping the files up here, but she'll figure it out..."

Sonya skimmed over all three e-mails on the screen, being introduced to Justine's delusional, cryptic way of communicating. "Have you told the police about her?"

"Not yet. And she knew I would hesitate, because I don't want everyone knowing I was at Haven Rest."

"How can you be able to help if you can't tell anyone?" Sonya asked.

"Justine knows that, too."

"What do you think she means by, 'a diamond can cut into skin or bone, glass a distant memory, along with the floaters?'"

Piper shrugged. "A diamond can cut glass, but who knows what Justine means?"

"A Blue Diamond?"

"Maybe."

"Floaters is a police term for dead bodies found in water, like drowning victims."

"There's always some floaters that wash up in the lakes after winter or in the summer. You don't want to get too caught up in trying to figure out Justine. I tried, but she almost took me down with her."

"How? You seem like the type that has a mind of her own."

"I would have followed Justine anywhere."

"Did you think you were in love with her?" Sonya asked.

"I was. Definitely infatuated. Remember when we went to Mack's store, and I told you about how there are people who can make you see the world in bright colors? Justine was an artist, and she used red, yellow, and black in her paintings a lot. Flowers, trees, and animals. Everything in my life felt gray and average and conventional until I met Justine. She woke me up..."

"Did you know you were gay before you met her?"

"No. Well, maybe. I think I started to wonder after my parents got divorced, although my dad moving away had nothing to do with it. My mom was really hurt because his paralegal had been his girlfriend for years and my mom never knew until he told her. The funny thing is that my dad seems like the last person to have something on the side. He's a cold person, but a good attorney. He's patient, and he just wears away at his opponent until they give him what he wants. He and my mom were never right for each other, but who is?"

"Were Bobby's parents ever married?" Sonya asked.

"No, but he and Rick have the same father. I don't even know his name, but he had blond hair, like Bobby."

"Bobby said his Aunt Sharon thinks that Rick could be a suspect..."

"Possibly. He's violent. Bobby said Rick lost his job at the Sears store in the mall because he and this other guy were fighting over a girl that worked there."

"Bobby said that he went to Stark Junior High for part of sixth grade, but I don't remember him," Sonya said.

"He didn't stay for long. He went to a charter school downtown for seventh grade. They moved a lot until his mom got hired at Forge Plastics. She'd still like to find a house in the school district, get out of that apartment."

"Does Bobby ever see his dad?"

"I can't say, Bobby doesn't talk about him much. Bobby used to say that all of our dads are in Falls River, hanging out with each other so they can avoid their kids."

"My dad used to live in Falls River. He was only dragged back to Marine because Uncle Bill has Alzheimer's and my mom died."

"Why didn't you stay with your step-dad?"

"Cal said my dad wanted a chance."

"You should give him a chance, Sonya. I mean, at least he's with you, in the same house."

"My dad was almost forty years old when I was born. He had been married twice, but I only know his first wife's name, Sarah. I've never seen a picture of her, and they didn't have kids. My mom didn't know much about her. Dad lived in Canada then. He's secretive, and he's worried Uncle Bill is going to forget and say something that Dad doesn't want me to know."

"Remember when I said that secrets never serve you well?" Piper asked.

"Yeah?"

"Maybe he doesn't want to tell you everything because he thinks it will make things worse. People only keep secrets out of fear."

*****

"Someone called for you while you were gone," Aron said.

He handed Sonya a yellow sticky note, the name Kristen written above the number. Sonya went upstairs to her room with her cell phone. She dialed the number, wondering why Kristen would voluntarily call her.

"Hello?"

"You called _me_ , Kristen."

"Hi, Sonya. I wanted to tell you something..."

"Yes?"

"There's this guy I go to church with, at Devotion..."

Sonya could not think of what to say, so she repeated herself. "Yes?"

"I hadn't been to services in a long time, but I went with my grandma last Sunday. I saw this old guy there, his name is Mike Winstead. He was with his son, Trey." Sonya heard Kristen take a deep breath, as if what she was going to say was for the first time. "The guy who cut me up wasn't very tall, and Trey has to be around five feet, five inches in height. His dad is short, too."

Cal had mentioned, in his articles, that the Ravisher could be around five-five or five-eight. "There's a lot of short guys out there, Kristen."

"The Ravisher has big feet. He was wearing black sneakers."

"What brand of sneakers?"

"Nikes, I think."

"Did you tell Garcia?"

"No. And I don't dare tell Tony, he might go after the guy. But sneakers hardly narrows it down. That's why I'm going back to work."

"I don't understand. Why do you want to go back?"

"I think he might come back if he knows I'm there. I talked to Garcia, and he said he would think about it. I'm like, 'I'm going back, anyway!' I'm not asking for his permission or...something."

This Kristen sounded very different than the one Sonya spoke to in the cafeteria, the anger had kicked in. "You're not going to want to be alone."

"I was hoping Garcia would let a cop hang around."

"But would you recognize the Ravisher if he walked into the Chester Chicken? And I honestly don't think he's going to come back. He might be tempted—"

"But how do you know he isn't stalking around? The high school? Whispering Pines?"

"He's too smart. He's not leaving anything behind. Emily had a cloth stuffed in her mouth before he cut off her earlobe, and he was sure to take it with him before he ran away. He's organized."

"He knew right where to wait for me," Kristen said. "I think he had seen me at the Chester Chicken, or knew me from somewhere else, like church or school."

"You went to cheerleading camp with Jess and Piper. He could have noticed you cheering at a game."

"I haven't cheered since last year."

"Did you quit?"

"It was always too expensive for my parents. I was lucky to go to camp; my parents couldn't get their refund after my dad was laid off, so they let me go."

"What about a boyfriend?"

"There's only Darius, and we broke up."

"I'm sorry about your miscarriage."

"I'm not. The last thing I needed was to get stuck with a baby. I just want to get through school and find a job so I can move out."

"What's Darius like?"

"He's okay. He's never hurt me. He likes to get stoned a lot, and my friends and my brother never liked him. He's funny, though. He makes me laugh."

"Is Darius tall?"

"No. But Darius wouldn't hurt a flea."

"Did he want to break up?"

"No. He's been wanting to see me, but I don't see the point."

"Do you know my cousin Kaitlyn?"

"Kaitlyn Warden?"

"Yeah."

"We're friends, I guess."

"Was she your friend before the attack?"

"Yes, she was. Her boyfriend Dane is an ass, and he's got Kaitlyn believing that I was attacked because Darius got in trouble with drug dealers."

"Why dealers?"

"Because Dane buys his weed from the same guy Darius does; some old dude named Jimmy. He was a Blue Diamond a long time ago. But Darius said that everyone buys from Jimmy, and Darius always paid up front, so there was no reason for Jimmy to be mad at Darius."

"Is that why you're eating your lunch alone?"

"Not the only reason. I have to go now, I'm going back to work tonight. I just wanted to tell you about Trey Winstead, but I could be wrong."

"My Uncle Bill is friends with Mike Winstead. Trey works with my neighbor, Kyle. He gives Kyle a ride to work everyday."

"Where do they work?"

"Metal Concepts."

"My mom worked there. So did I, for part of the summer. Mom was laid off while I was at camp. Instead of calling her back, they hired new people. I don't remember Trey working there. I would've recognized him. Who's the other one?"

"Kyle Stone. Curly brown hair, not too tall, hazel eyes."

"Is he cute?"

"Yeah."

"Don't remember him. Mostly older guys worked with Mom and me."

"What did you do at Metal Concepts?"

"I inspected little metal parts for flaws. Huge boxes full, all day long. God, I couldn't wait for camp to start."

"Do you go on the Blue and White?" Sonya asked.

"I used to, until I ended up on it."

"How do you think SkolClik found out about your miscarriage?"

"I don't know, because I didn't tell anyone at school and neither did my parents. I mean, my dad would need directions to find my school."

"Where do you think SkolClik gets his sources?"

"SkolClik might not be a 'he'; that's what I heard."

"Is SkolClik someone in your class?"

"Could be. But I can't be sure."

"Would you give me a name?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because you're a snoop."

*****

Justine always knew she was being watched, and she usually welcomed the attention from the staff and fellow patients at Haven Rest, but she managed to get a few minutes alone in the computer lab on her floor.

She entered the lab after dinner. One other patient, a thirteen year old boy, was at a computer. He took one look at Justine and rose from his seat, leaving the room. She barely noticed as she went on-line, even though she was well aware of her reputation.

Justine never threatened or assaulted another patient at Haven Rest, but they all knew why she was there, and the girl had that way about her, as if intimidation was easy for her.

Justine found FriendsRing, using one of her many screen-names, JSweet100. Piper did not even know all of Justine's screen-names, and she navigated her way to the FriendsRing friend she was looking for. Soon, she found herself instant messaging:

JSweet100: Have you contacted P.?

GorJus95: I'm waiting on her, but it shouldn't be long.

JSweet100: I don't care what you do, just keep her guessing.

GorJus95: What do you want me to tell her?

JSweet100: Nothing. You don't really have to lie, tell her about your music and your friends, give off the impression that you're interested.

GorJus95: What if she doesn't like me?

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.

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."

"On the construction crew?"

"Tony thinks the guy quit before he could get arrested. I heard Lister had to file for bankruptcy, which means he's probably sitting around in his big house in North Marine. He used to hire a lot of ex-cons and illegal immigrants."

"I don't think the Ravisher has ever been to jail."

"But I think he has had a few encounters with the mental health community," Garcia said. "Either that, or he's developed this persona, the Ravisher, for his own ends."

"If that's the case, he will be judged competent to stand trial."

"With a history of mental illness, maybe not. But someone like the Ravisher could have been having problems since childhood. Kids with mental illnesses can fall through the cracks; some end up in a counselor's office and are medicated. Some go to institutions, and there's only one in Marine for young people..."

"Haven Rest."

"My next stop." The server brought the pizza and walked away. "I'll be spending my time looking in their records to search for a past patient with no name, face, or past crimes. I'll have to rely on the profile."

Cal scooped a piece of hot pizza from the pan on to his plate. "White male, eighteen to forty-nine years old, etcetera, etcetera..."

"And how many unstable white male teenagers go in and out of Haven Rest every year?"

Cal took a bite, but the sauce almost burned his tongue. He swallowed quickly, then wiped his lips with a napkin. "The last time I went to Haven Rest was to get an interview with Adam Moore, that kid who murdered his mother and sister. He cut up their faces..."

Garcia put down his mug. "I thought about Adam, but he never harmed anyone else."

"Carolyn's ex was one of his teachers at North Marine. Said he was a nice kid."

"Was the Ravisher a nice kid? Who knows? It's like grabbing at the air." Garcia cut into his slice of pizza with a fork. "I got a call from my guy in the Blue Diamonds..."

"About the meth lab explosion?"

Garcia looked up, grinning. "No, Cal. My guy has his theory about the Ravisher. Want to hear it?"

"Why not?"

"The Ravisher could be a son of a former Blue Diamond. My guy couldn't tell me which one, but advised me to take a look at some of the local Diamonds who have gone to prison or died over the last ten years."

Cal shrugged. "Why would the Ravisher have to be the son of a Diamond?"

"He was a bit vague, as if he was afraid to give me too much information. He's close to the guys at the club-house, he has to be careful."

Cal lowered his voice to a whisper. "Is he a cop?"

Garcia nodded. "If I can get him to come in from the cold, he can tell me more. In the meantime, I'll be doing leg-work, talking to Lister and visiting Haven Rest."

"Sonya, my step-daughter, is interested in the investigation; so much so, she made a list of suspects. Don't laugh yet, Ben. She mentioned Justine Kent, who's a long-term patient at Haven Rest. Justine claims to know who the Ravisher is, and is sending e-mails to another girl, Piper Jones, an old classmate of hers from the Crandall Academy—"

"Didn't she stab a classmate?"

"She attacked a boy at Crandall. Justine is a schizophrenic, so whatever she says can't be trusted, but she did mention the Blue Diamonds in her e-mails, and that the Ravisher was once a patient at Haven Rest—"

"You don't say?"

"I do say, Ben. You might want to visit Justine while you're there."

Garcia filled his mug with more beer from the pitcher. "You know, Cal, Captain Schultz is just being careful. The meth lab explosion brought in the FBI, and it may take some time—"

"That's all right, I can wait." Cal took a bite of the cooled pizza. "I didn't ask Sonya why her friend Piper didn't come to you about Justine and her e-mails, because girls that age will lie for their friends, and Sonya and I just started speaking again. But the name, Justine Kent, made me think of Angela Kent. She was a rape victim..."

Garcia put down his fork. "I had just been promoted to detective, but Roger Bass–he's retired now–was assigned to the case. She was brutalized, her nose and jaw broken. There was more than one attacker. The little girl was locked in another room, and left there for days. Angela Kent was tied to the bed and raped, but not before getting beat, her jaw broken. She and the girl were both found at an old hunting cabin in Lamont, past North Marine. Bass was only assigned as a sort of consultant, because Lamont never had to deal with such a brutal rape case before."

"I looked up the articles. The little girl, Justine, was drugged for most of it."

"Angela's attackers wore condoms, which tells me that these guys weren't in it to fulfill any kind of sick fantasy. I think they were hired to attack Angela Kent. Bass thought the same thing, but nothing was found in the cabin. The bed had been stripped, although Angela was still tied there, blindfolded the whole time. That morning, before she was found, she said someone washed her. Soap and warm water. Even brushed her hair. Her nose and jaw were broken, so she was only gagged part of the time. She couldn't open her mouth to scream with a broken jaw. She was also drugged. Morphine was found in her blood. Same with Justine."

"Who would have hired men to attack Angela Kent?"

"The one thing that always bothered Bass was how Angela and Justine were taken. They lived in a nice home in Holland Hills. Angela's husband, Philip, was an engineer. The little girl was some kind of prodigy. Art or music. Anyway, they were taken from the home, or this was what Angela told us later."

"Why is that strange?"

"Why take the kid? If the rape was a sick fantasy on the part of the attacker, why would he want a kid around, screaming and crying?"

"Maybe they had plans for the kid."

"Philip Kent was never questioned, never under suspicion."

"So Bass thought Philip Kent wanted his wife to get raped, with his daughter around?"

"She never saw the assault, she was knocked out in another room."

"Do you think Justine would remember now?" Cal asked.

"I wonder how Angela Kent is doing these days. Philip was never the same, he went looking for his wife's rapist, and his anger would seem typical, wouldn't it?"

"He did his time, a few years for assault."

"The mild-mannered engineer cut off Jimmy Hepler's nose, knocked most of his teeth out. Angela saw him in a store, pointed him out to Philip. She was blindfolded and drugged, but Jimmy has a southern accent as thick as molasses, and Angela insisted one of her attackers had an accent, his breath smelled like chewing tobacco. Several southerners live in Marine, but only a few were white and Blue Diamonds. The Diamonds were already a strong presence in this town, and it made sense to Philip that his wife's rapist would be a Blue Diamond. Philip went to the club-house by himself one night and waited for Jimmy Hepler to appear. Unfortunately for Jimmy, he was alone. Kent attacked him behind the building, bashed him in the face with a metal ball bat, then cut his nose off."

"He _branded_ the guy."

"We never had any real proof Jimmy attacked Angela Kent, but Philip went to prison for assault."

"Then Justine turned out to be schizophrenic."

"I always thought Philip Kent was one beer short of a six pack. Bass later wondered if Kent went after Jimmy to purposely get the heat of suspicion off him, or he wanted to make sure Jimmy did not testify against him in court if Bass and the Lamont police could prove he had anything to do with Angela's attack."

"He was trying cover his own tracks by coming off as the avenging husband and father?" Cal asked.

"Exactly."

"But why a sexual assault? Keeping her tied up for days?"

"Maybe he wanted to teach her a lesson."

"They can't still be married..."

"My guess is no, but I plan to find out."

### Chapter Sixteen

"Why did you want to come out here again?" Bobby asked.

Sonya turned on her camera. "I want to take a look at the houses that weren't finished."

Bobby, Piper, and Jess followed Sonya up the main drive in Whispering Pines, the September afternoon crisp and sunny. They walked through the cul-de-sac, past the beige house, taking a short cut to the same skeletal structures, covered in plastic, that Tony and Kristen Beck had visited only a few nights ago.

Try-outs for cheerleading had come and gone. Jess had passed on it, but so did Piper, which came as even more of a surprise to their friends.

"Freshman girls don't get picked, anyway," Piper said. "Maybe next year..."

Jess had been sleeping soundly in her room when Piper, Bobby, and Sonya arrived, having forgotten that she had agreed to go with them to Whispering Pines after school. She was still sleepy, her hair sticking up, fresh bandages on her face. "I don't care if I ever cheer again. Maybe I'll do something else."

"Me, too," Piper said. "Let's do this new thing, and then watch Kelly and Courtney want to do it."

Jess giggled. "Let's dye our hair."

Bobby gasped, then grinned. "What color?"

"Red. Like Sonya's."

Sonya's smile was good-natured. "I was walking down the hallway, and this boy yelled,'Hey, Woodpecker!' So I called back,'Hey, Peckerhead!' And it was the same guy from home ec class, Jess. The one who dropped the egg."

"You mean, Everett?" Jess asked.

"Everett Lock?" Piper asked.

"I guess," Sonya said.

"Dane Lock is his older brother. Dane plays football. A quarterback."

"He's my cousin's boyfriend."

"Ev is a goofball," Piper said. "He would insult a girl just to get her attention."

"Sometimes he's just insulting," Bobby said.

"I like your new hat," Jess said.

"Thanks." Bobby readjusted the blue beret on his head, which matched the blue polo shirt, the collar up. "A birthday present from last year."

"What's the date today?" Sonya asked.

"The fifteenth."

Sonya lowered her camera. "I can't believe I forgot."

"What's wrong?" Bobby asked.

She shook her head. "Dad didn't even mention it..."

"What?"

"I'll tell you later."

Bobby threw a look at Piper, but stayed quiet as Sonya took a few pictures.

"I'm not so much interested in the houses as the location," she said. "Anyone could cut through here."

Sonya stared at the cement slabs that had been intended for foundations, a few abandoned pieces of lumber and roof tiles on the ground.

"This is nowhere near Jess's house," Bobby said.

"He would have to take the long way around," Sonya said. "But he would have access to almost every back yard."

They turned, seeing what Sonya did. The incomplete houses were on a hill, the rise providing a view of the back of every house that did not boast a wooden privacy fence.

"Perfect for a peeper," she said.

"Peeper?" Bobby asked.

"Kristen told me that her brother Tony used to work on the crew that built these houses. One of the guys was caught peeping into the bedroom windows of some of the houses. The guy quit before he could get fired."

Bobby grinned. "How did Hot Tony know about it?"

"Hot Tony?"

"Tony Beck is hot," Piper said.

Sonya rolled her eyes. "Tony was on the crew, and I'm sure word got around about the peeper. Kristen said Tony saw the guy at the mall, but couldn't remember his name. What interests me is that he wasn't arrested, which means that his behavior was being kept quiet, for some reason."

"Boys being boys?" Bobby asked.

"Exactly. Someone was protecting this guy."

"But he quit."

"He was embarrassed, he had been caught."

"Would this peeper guy be dumb enough to come back to the area and attack Jess?" Piper asked.

"Peeping is how some rapists start out," Sonya said. "They get more and more into their fantasies before they attack for the first time."

"Do you think the police know about this guy?"

"Kristen said Tony told Garcia."

Sonya took a few more pictures, focusing her lens on the back yards and then walked farther into the woods behind the unfinished houses. She peeked into the trees, finding a back road that led to another entrance to Whispering Pines. "There's more than one way in and out. He had to have a vehicle."

"You think he parked out here?" Bobby asked.

"Maybe." She took another picture. "He could have come back this way after he attacked Jess. He had time..."

"And not one neighbor noticed him?"

"He ran through Jess's yard, and could avoid people by staying to the hedges and back yards until he came to the cul-de-sac. He would have had to cut through here." She turned to Jess. "Did you see which way he went out of your yard?"

Jess shook her head. "I think he ran towards the back, not down the driveway. But I can't say for sure."

"Before you left the house, did you send out any Tweets or e-mails?"

"To all of my friends."

"How many?"

"School friends and on FriendsRing."

"I found some of the same friends on your list as on Bobby's and Piper's."

"How will that help?" Jess asked.

"I plan to give the names to Garcia, but I wanted you to tell me if you had communicated with any of them."

*****

"I've never met any of my friends from FriendsRing," Jess said.

They had returned to Jess's house, using her lap-top in the kitchen.

Piper read through Sonya's hand-written list, her eyes stopping on RomeoBoy, who had appeared on all three lists. She handed the paper back to Sonya. "Some of these look familiar, but all I do is IM."

"Same here," Bobby said.

"Did you ask Kristen if she ever went on FriendsRing?" Piper asked.

"I forgot to ask her."

"Is it true she's going back to her job?"

"She went back last night. I told her to be careful."

"Are the cops helping her?"

"I don't think Garcia wants her doing it."

"She's alone over there?"

"I hope not."

"Maybe Hot Tony will come by to look in on her," Bobby said.

"And you would be right over there," Piper said. "Stalker alert."

Jess giggled, but Bobby did not blink. "Everything was fine until they moved out of my building. The manager wouldn't give me their new address."

"Kristen's family lived in your building?" Sonya asked.

"They all lived one floor above us. Hot Tony would get up every morning to go running. To build up his endurance."

"Did he wear a shirt?" Piper asked.

"Not in the summer."

"When did they move away?" Sonya asked.

"Last fall," Bobby said.

"Did Tony know Rick?"

"No. I never saw them speak to each other."

"Did they go to school together?"

"Yes. Until Rick dropped out three years ago. But he ended up at the alternative school for eleventh grade."

"And Tony was the football star."

"Where does he live now?" Bobby asked.

"On Hunter Avenue. Not far from my Aunt Sue."

"Don't get any ideas, Bobby," Piper said.

"Hot Tony is in my past. I have moved on."

Sonya shook her head. "No wonder the MPD have so few leads. I'm starting to wonder why Garcia isn't questioning every guy in the East Marine area who has ever been arrested for assaulting a female."

"That would be a long list," Piper said.

"And they would have to be able to put a suspect at the crime scene," Sonya said. "And who saw him, in his ski mask, besides the victims?"

*****

"Sonya, I know one of the names from your list," Piper said.

They were outside of Jess's house, standing in the yard, waiting for Robin to pick them up. Bobby had already left on his scooter, Jess going back to bed.

"Who?" Sonya asked.

"RomeoBoy. But the boy is actually a girl, her name is Ariel, and she wants to meet."

"Do you want to?"

"I'm not sure. I've never met another girl for coffee before. Or a boy."

"In a public place?"

"Of course."

"I thought you didn't like to meet people that way."

"She seems nice."

"You want to hook up?"

"I don't know. We have a few things in common, but I'm new to this..."

"I wonder if RomeoBoy was one of them Jess Tweeted that morning."

"Maybe. I could ask Ariel."

"Don't go anywhere with her alone."

"The Ravisher is a guy. Besides, my mom is taking me and picking me up."

"When are you going to meet her?"

"Tonight."

"Does your mom know you're meeting this girl?"

"No. She thinks I just want to go shopping."

*****

"I'm sorry, Sonya," Aron said. "I didn't mean to forget. Would you like me to take you to the cemetery?"

Sonya sat with her father at the kitchen table. "I can't believe I forgot..."

"You've had a lot on your mind."

"Maybe we can go after dinner."

"That's fine. I can pick up some flowers."

"Cal never forgot Mom's birthday. He would always buy her a box of chocolate truffles."

"Her favorite. She liked chocolate more than jewelry. I bought her a bracelet once."

"Gold or silver?"

"A silver charm bracelet. After you were born. A little baby bootie charm on it."

"I have it. Cal gave it to me when he cleaned out her things."

"That must have been hard."

"A lot of her clothes and stuff went to GoodWill."

"You had a few boxes when you moved in."

"All that stuff is upstairs."

Bill came into the kitchen. "What's for dinner?"

"I thought we would eat somewhere cheap and take Sonya out to Forever Peace," Aron said. "Today is Carolyn's birthday."

"Is that right?"

Aron could recall Bill mentioning it to him at the L+M Market weeks ago. "We'll take some flowers."

### Chapter Seventeen

Kristen, in her work shirt and yellow cap with a red rooster on the front, did a double-take at the register when she saw Sonya Neslund enter the Chester Chicken with her father and uncle, who was holding the coupons he had found in the Sunday Marine Press.

Sonya took in the smell of fried chicken as Aron ordered dinners for them, using one of the coupons. Sonya smiled at Kristen, but did not speak to her.

When Sonya was seated with Bill and Aron, she noticed that the dining area was not busy, with only two men sitting in booths; one looked to be over sixty, another in his twenties, with black hair and an olive complexion peppered with a little acne.

"I remember when it used to cost under ten dollars to eat here," Bill said. "Everything is going up."

Sonya bit into her fried chicken leg, the meat very hot.

"I can't believe she would come back here," Aron said.

"She must need her job," Bill said. "Poor thing. Isn't Taco Bell hiring?"

"She can't help but get noticed; her face is bandaged and she's wearing a name-tag."

Sonya emptied her small Dr. Pepper with her meal, and decided to get a refill, going up to the counter. Kristen took her paper cup, placing it at the soda fountain, and pressed the button.

"How are things going tonight?" Sonya asked.

Kristen shrugged. "Okay. The same as last night. I thought Chip was going to keep me at the back, but he wanted me at the register."

"Anyone bother you?"

"No. People have been cool by not saying anything, but some stare."

"Are you getting a ride home?"

"Darius over there–" she pointed to the dark-haired young man in the booth–"is taking me home."

"I thought you two broke up."

"Darius doesn't want to."

Kristen's expression was blank, almost bored, so Sonya dropped the subject. "Well, as long as you're safe..."

"Garcia mentioned something about talking to Old Man Lister. He wants to get a list of the guys who worked for Lister over the last two years. Most them are ex-cons and illegals. I mean, some were like Tony, too, but Garcia is going to have to pick through all of them."

"Just to find a peeper?"

"What else do they have to go on? Tony saw him at the mall, and couldn't even remember his name. This guy is like the color beige, he just blends in, you know?"

More customers, an elderly couple, approached the counter, and Sonya returned to her seat, setting her refilled cup down on the table.

Bill was wrapping his half-eaten chicken breast into a napkin to save for Helga. "I didn't feed her before I left..."

"Yes, you did," Aron said.

"I did?"

"I saw you do it."

"Okay. As long as she's not hungry."

"Has WorkStaffing called you lately, Dad?" Sonya asked.

"They asked me if I wanted to work third shift at Forge Plastics, and I almost took it. But I don't like the idea of leaving you and Bill alone at night. Especially now."

"You're educated," Bill said. "Even I wouldn't work at a dump like Forge. The employees are all on parole, except for Sue."

"If I keep turning down assignments, WorkStaffing might stop calling me."

"Kyle and Trey got their jobs at Metal Concepts through WorkStaffing," Sonya said.

"And what kind of experience did they have?" Aron asked.

"Mike said Trey used to deliver pizzas, then tried to work in construction," Bill said. "Whispering Pines never finished those houses, so he got unemployment checks for awhile."

Sonya looked to the front counter, wondering if the man Tony Beck saw at the mall was Trey Winstead. Kyle mentioned, on the night she babysat his brothers, that he knew Tony because he used to work with him.

Did Kyle work at Whispering Pines? she thought. If he did, then Garcia will be speaking with him soon. Trey, too.

*****

Piper looked over each face at the crowded coffee bar in Marine Booksellers, across the street from the Four Winds Mall.

Robin had dropped her off at the mall entrance, but Piper walked to the bookstore, the place where she and RomeoBoy/Ariel had agreed to meet.

Piper's gaze stopped on a girl who looked to be seventeen, her dark hair in a pageboy, her features soft and small except for her nose, long and straight.

Piper came closer, and she caught the girl's eye, who waved her over. Piper noticed the girl was wearing a blue cashmere sweater and jeans rolled up at the ankles, not unlike Piper, in her gray sweater and leggings.

The girl smiled at her, red lip gloss and a little mascara around bright brown eyes. "Hi. Piper?"

"Yeah. Ariel?"

"That's me."

Piper sat in a chair across from her at the small table. "I'm glad—"

"So am I."

They both laughed nervously.

"Isn't it strange how I can go on and on when I'm IM-ing, but I can't have a decent conversation in person?" Ariel asked.

"That's what the Web is for."

"Without it, I don't think I'd leave the house, except for school and my band."

"Does your band have a name?"

"Second Skin. I play drums."

"Really? Do you play around town?"

"Mostly at the Dive, an underaged club downtown. My brother's the lead singer."

"Do you play your own songs?"

"A few. Mostly covers. My brother likes punk, so we sound like that right now."

"Does the band have a webpage?"

"On FriendsRing. I try to get my friends to download our two or three original songs."

"Where do you go to school?" Piper asked.

"North Marine. Would you like something to drink?"

"No, I'm okay. Do you normally meet other girls like this?"

"Not often. I like to be careful. My parents don't know, and I'm not really ready to come out. But I'd also like more gay friends, you know what I mean?"

"Yes, I do. Actually, my mom thinks I'm shopping over at the mall."

"Same here."

"I've never been to the Dive."

"It's a cool place. We usually play on Friday nights."

"Do you like school?" Piper asked.

"No. But I have enough friends to tolerate it. One more year, and I'm done."

"You want to go to college?"

"Probably not."

"I don't know what I want to do, either."

"Your FriendsRing page made you seem like you were into everything. I didn't think you would be interested in me. I'm not a cheerleader or anything."

"That's okay. I didn't even try out this year. To be honest, I'm a little bored."

"Your page said you were into the Twilight saga."

"I read all of the books over the summer."

"Do you like the movies?" Ariel asked.

"I think they're okay, but I like the books more."

"Do you think Stephenie Meyer might write another one?"

"Well, Bella and Edward have a baby, so Meyer could write about that."

"What would that kid be like?"

"Very pale and hungry."

*****

Piper spoke with Ariel for another half-hour. They did not exchange phone numbers, but Piper said she might go to the Dive, see Second Skin play some Friday night. She liked Ariel, but the girl seemed as if she was trying too hard. Piper figured she was just insecure, eager to make friends more like herself. Piper mentioned the attacks, and Ariel was keeping up on the Blue and White blog.

Piper was walking across the parking lot, ready to return to the mall, when she saw Rick and another man standing near a parked motorcycle. She cut between two vehicles, trying to get close without being noticed.

The other guy was medium height, long brown hair in a ponytail. He was wearing a sleeveless T-shirt, and Piper did not miss the tattoo of a blue diamond on his bicep, although he was without a leather jacket or vest. Rick was having a civil conversation, his demeanor seemed calm. Piper recalled him breaking Bobby's fingers and just walking out. For a moment, Piper believed he could be the Ravisher.

He turned his head, and Piper ducked between an SUV and a car. She walked back to the bookstore, staying in the foyer.

She pulled her phone out of her purse and dialed Bobby. "Did you know Rick is out?"

"Mom told me when I got home from school," he said. "But she said she didn't pay the bail, one of his friends did. Rick called Mom, but she told him not to come back here, that she wants to press charges against him for hurting me. That way, he will be court-ordered to take his medication."

"Where is he going to stay?"

"I don't care. I like the peace and quiet. How was your date?"

"It was just coffee. I might see her again."

"Sonya can cross RomeoBoy off her list."

"Her step-dad remembered what happened to Justine's mom, and I have a feeling that he or Garcia may be going over to Haven Rest to talk to her."

"Just the kind of attention she likes."

"She won't give anything away, so she'll drive the cops crazy."

*****

Garcia could not decide which task was more underwhelming; his interview with Justine Kent, or searching through previous patient files in the basement at Haven Rest.

Justine, dressed in her sweatsuit, her baby face puffy with medically-induced sleep, gave him her deep stare with the little-girl expression that Garcia recalled from her mother's ordeal, all those years ago.

Garcia put on the demeanor as the gentle father figure, keeping his questions friendly. "Do your parents visit you often, Justine?"

"Mom comes at Christmas and on my birthday. I don't see Dad."

Garcia saw the deep brown of her eyes turn stony, almost black. Her parents were a touchy subject, so he decided to deflect it for awhile. "Do you hear from any of your old school chums?"

"A few."

Her back went straight, she was sitting up close against the table, the tall glass sheet separating them. Garcia, when he entered the room, thought the glass was a bit much to deal with one teenaged girl.

"How do you go to school, Justine?"

"Tutors come. I'm in a classroom with other kids."

"Nothing like your days at Crandall, huh?"

She sighed. "Yeah..."

"You ever hear from Piper Jones?"

"We e-mail."

"You e-mail her?"

"From the computer lab. I have privileges."

"As long as you behave?"

"Yes, sir."

"Have you made friends here?"

"Not really."

"Not even a few?" Garcia asked. "Maybe a friend who didn't stay for long?"

"A lot of kids come and go."

"Justine, you only see your mother twice a year, your father not at all. I found out they separated after you were sent here. You have no brothers and sisters. Teenaged girls like having friends."

Nurse Lauren, standing behind Justine, shifted a bit on her feet, keeping her expression neutral. Justine shrugged. "I sleep a lot. I don't make friends anymore."

Garcia thought about his next question, wording it carefully. "Do you remember when you and your mother were kidnapped? Taken to the cabin?"

She rolled her eyes. "You mean, when Mom was raped by the men my dad hired? Those guys were supposed to kill me. Did you know that, Detective?"

"Why would your father have wanted to do such a thing?"

Justine shrugged. "He always hated me. All I did was get in the way of what he wanted. He would see my mom scarred forever than have me in his life."

"What did he want?"

"To control my mom and be free at the same time. And she's weak, she needs him. Don't think they'll stay separated for long."

Justine returned to giving vague, slightly hostile, answers and Garcia decided to leave the girl alone, her nurse walking her to her room.

Lauren returned, and Garcia asked to see the administrator.

"I'll take you to her office," she said.

"Thank you, um..."

"Call me Lauren."

"What is Justine really like?"

"She's quiet most of the time."

Garcia followed her out of the room and into the hall. "I understand that she's here because she stabbed a classmate at the Crandall Academy..."

"She's never harmed anyone since. The medication helps. The delusions are almost gone."

"Does she speak to a therapist?"

"Not always, although she is monitored to make sure the meds stay effective."

"She says she has no friends here."

"A few have come and gone. She usually befriends patients she can dominate in some way."

"Were any of them male?"

"Not that I can recall, but I've only been here for a year now. Besides, Justine considers herself a lesbian."

Garcia continued to walk behind Lauren between the gray walls to the administrator's office. "Does she ever mention a Piper Jones?"

"A blonde-haired girl? She's been here to visit. A few days ago, brought a boy with her."

Garcia met the administrator, a woman in her mid-sixties, who took him to the records department in the dim, gray basement. He told the clerk, a man also close to retirement, that he wanted to see the records of every male patient from the last two years. The clerk, a tall, pale man, his iron-gray hair in a comb-over, blinked a few times behind his glasses, but went to the computer.

"If it helps," Garcia said, "I don't need the whole file for each patient. I just need names, a picture, and some basic description of their behavior. Preferably, young men who have cut up the faces or bodies of someone else."

The clerk scratched his head. "I'll do my best..."

"Do you know how long the therapist has been here?" Garcia asked.

"We get a new psychotherapist every few years."

"And there's only one, right?"

"Yes."

"And how many patients?"

"Close to forty."

Garcia nodded. "And how long have you worked here?"

"Almost thirty years."

"I need to narrow down my search. Have you heard of the attacks in East Marine? Three girls had their faces slashed."

"Yes. I read the Press."

"I think the attacker may have been a recent patient here."

"We have a search engine to use with our own files. The problem is that the software can't distinguish between a patient who cuts others or only themselves. So it will take time—"

"A patient who cuts their own skin isn't always violent towards others, right?"

"That's something to ask the therapist, but she's at a conference this week in Toronto."

"But you can try the search engine?"

"Absolutely. It's a place to start. Haven Rest has patient records going back before World War II, all of which were transferred to computer."

"I just want the last few years for now."

"Do you think the Ravisher could be so young?"

"I think he could have been a patient around the time Justine Kent arrived."

The clerk turned around in his seat at the computer, Garcia behind him. The only light surrounding them was a desk-lamp with a bendable neck, making the skin on the clerk's forehead shine. "She keeps to herself now, but she thought she could run the place at first."

"What do you mean?"

"They made the mistake of giving Miss Justine a roommate, and the girl died within a week. The nurses said she had a seizure and Justine didn't get her any help, just sat there and watched her lose consciousness. Justine said she was asleep from her meds and never saw the seizure happen, only finding the girl's dead body when she woke up. Justine hasn't had a roommate since."

"Did she make friends with any of the boys?"

"The boys are afraid of her."

"What about the other gay patients?"

"It's patient confidentiality around here. I can't tell you for sure which patients are gay, unless the patient discloses it."

"Could info like that be found in the search engine?"

"Maybe. I could try."

"Can any of the records be sent out of Haven Rest by e-mail?"

"No. You can only go through the records here. Once again, confidentiality."

"Even with a warrant?"

"You'd have to talk to administration."

"She seemed not to know herself."

"The police haven't visited much since Adam Moore."

"Do you ever use the computers upstairs? In the lab?"

"Sometimes."

"Who looks after those computers?"

"I do. I'm the closest to I.T. Haven Rest has. If it's bad, I call the Geek Squad."

"Do all of the patients have e-mail accounts?" Garcia asked.

"If the patient has privileges. Usually a free account with Yahoo is set up."

"Do you help the patients with computer use?"

"Usually, they can do it themselves. Maybe one of the nurses helps if I can't."

"Could you print me a read-out of a certain patient's internet activity?"

"What's the name?"

He sighed. "A little stinker named Justine Kent. You can include that with the files."

Garcia found himself with close to fifteen files in front of him; male patients with a history of cutting others or themselves. The clerk went off to print the read-out of Justine's time on the Web, leaving Garcia to dig in at the top of the files.

Adam Moore was first, which Garcia tossed to the side, knowing Moore was still incarcerated out of state. He sorted through the next fourteen files, most of these patients having cut others in isolated incidents, but not always on the face. Very few of these boys would cut themselves in violent fits of anger, only wanting to hurt others. Some of these boys were from divorced parents, some did not. Most of them were from upper-middle class homes. They were all white.

With each file, Garcia wrote down the patient's name on a pad of paper, and took notes. He was specifically looking for a patient who committed violent acts against a female. Except for Adam, the other boys did not lash out at females in particular. Garcia tried to make out the squiggles of the psychiatrist's hand-written notes, but nothing caught his eye, until the fourth or fifth patient:

"...enjoys expressing himself artistically, making collages from magazine photos of famous women, then cuts into the collages, removing eyes, noses, and lips in photos until he creates the shape of another face. Patient, underneath his psychic pain, is trying to establish an identity. He sees women as a source of pain, although he was not abused by his mother or other women. Soft-spoken and shy in sessions, does not like group therapy. Patient has been suicidal, no history of violence..."

Garcia checked the length of the patient's stay; one month, court-ordered. He checked the parents' background. The father worked at the paper mill, the mother lived out of state.

He returned to the patient's name. Trey Winstead. Treated at Haven Rest after a suicide attempt two years ago, he had slashed his wrists. Garcia circled his name on the list.

He returned to the files, unearthing a few other potential suspects. He was not surprised to find Rick Chambers, who had stayed a week for treatment a year after Trey. Garcia could call Sharon Chambers, he was sure she had talked to her nephew.

Garcia checked his watch. He had time, so he looked through the last of the files. Nothing caught his interest, so he returned the files to the clerk.

"Detective?" the clerk asked.

Garcia turned around on his way out.

"You forgot this." The clerk handed Garcia the print-out.

Garcia glanced down at every website Justine had visited for the last month. FriendsRing, not to mention Facebook, along with various fan sites, including one for an underaged club called the Dive. Garcia was familiar with the place, the club's building used to be the old piston ring plant, Marine PR, which had stood empty downtown for almost fifteen years. The Dive did not cause much trouble, but he wondered why Justine would find the place interesting.

He could come back and interview her again. He had yet to stop by Lister's house in North Marine.

*****

Garcia made the drive to Lister's impressive home, a brick Tudor-style structure with a three-car garage. He cruised up the long driveway, passing pine and oak trees, leaves turned red and gold.

He could tell that the house was uninhabited before he shut off his car. At five o'clock, there was not one light on.

Garcia exited the car and walked up to the front door. He pushed his finger against the doorbell. He did not hear any steps, dogs barking, or door opening. He took a peek through a window, and received his answer.

The living room was empty of furniture, a rug rolled in the corner.

Everyone is moving out, Garcia thought. Am I one of the few people left in Michigan who owns his house?

Garcia had called Lister's offices yesterday, and he was answered by a recorded message informing him that Lister Construction was no longer in business.

Garcia took a short walk around the house. Lister's son Martin had gone on to play football at Michigan State University, his daughter Jennifer went to law school at Northwestern. Garcia took in the rose bushes and large swimming pool, thinking about the kind of men Lister had hired over the years, including ex-cons.

Garcia tried to recall, as he stared at the kidney-shaped pool with leaves floating on the water, any ex-cons he knew who were employed by Lister over the last few years, and none came to mind, but he could call a parole officer who had once helped him with a case. He could ask if any of her clients had worked for Lister.

Less than a week had passed between victims, and Garcia did not feel he was getting any closer to finding the Ravisher. Emily was attacked six days ago, so he would be getting ready. A warning could be printed in the Marine Press, asking girls not to be alone, for parents to provide rides. The last attack took place on a Saturday morning, on a dirt road in broad daylight, but no witnesses. No one was paying attention, because no one thought of their daughters as being the next girl; even the protective parents of Emily Watts, who had shielded her from the violence on TV and in movies by not allowing her to see it, and could easily blame her attack on some psycho that was the product of an ungodly world they were separate from. Garcia was told by Emily's parents and their pastor that it was his responsibility to stop the Ravisher, because they did not consider him much better, even if he was a police officer, because he had the sin of the world on him.

Kristen Beck had returned to her job at Chester Chicken, her brother and boyfriend keeping watch. Ann-Marie Holden had stopped calling him, and Emily never received an e-mail from the Ravisher.

The longer he's out there, the more time he's going to have to plan his next move, Garcia thought. He could be getting bored already, but he won't stop if he thinks he's getting away with it.

Garcia walked back to his car. The memory of Angela Kent's abduction and rape had stayed on his mind since he spoke to Cal. What Justine said was not cryptic to him; Garcia always wondered what Philip Kent's motive would have been in hiring men to attack his wife and even kill his six year old daughter. However, he had to take what Justine said with a grain of salt. The clerk mentioned that Justine once thought she could control everyone at Haven Rest and, by ignoring her roommate's seizure, got rid of an unwanted presence. With someone like her, the truth could be shaped and used to her advantage.

Philip Kent's attack on Jimmy Hepler had been planned. He went to the Blue Diamond club-house and waited at the back of the building, his vehicle parked blocks away. Hepler walked out alone through the back door around two-thirty in the morning. Philip sneaked up behind him with a metal baseball bat, keeping his blows on Hepler's face, then cutting off most of the man's nose. When the 9-1-1 call came in, the dispatcher later claimed that the caller sounded like a young boy. Philip, an educated man who designed airplane parts, had carried out his plans, but also could have been covering his involvement in his wife's attack. Justine had not been shy about bringing it up, along with her contempt for her parents. Either way, Garcia could not expect Justine to deal with him honestly, unless there was something in it for her. He could feel sympathy and compassion for the six year old girl who was drugged in one room while her mother was brutalized in the next, but the fifteen year old Justine was a different animal all together. Even if she was a liar, he could not seem to get her words out of his mind:

"He would see my mom scarred forever than have me in his life..."

What would make a father hate his wife and child so much? Garcia thought. And how does it connect to the Ravisher? Was Justine, in spite of her own psychotic tendencies, trying to tell me something?

### Chapter Eighteen

"Piper, Cal told me about Justine's mother," Sonya said. "What happened to her..."

Cal had called Sonya, asking if she knew the kids who had visited Justine Kent at Haven Rest. She knew who he meant, but held back, wanting to speak to Piper first.

"The story was in the local papers," Piper said. "Almost everyone knew..."

"The police thought Justine's father hired some men to rape his wife. He only beat up that Hepler guy because he wanted to make himself look innocent. Why?"

"They couldn't prove Justine's dad had anything to do with the rape, because they couldn't find a reason. Are you trying to find out who the Ravisher is, or are you more interested in Justine now?"

Sonya heard the impatience in Piper's voice, but pressed on. "You thought Justine knew something. All she mentioned to you was a patient who liked to cut out pictures of women's faces in magazines. Cal told me that she didn't tell Garcia much, so I think she's playing games, Piper."

"Justine always has a purpose; otherwise, she wouldn't bother."

"Are you trying to tell me that she's sensible? She's schizophrenic."

"That's the label they gave her after she stabbed Devon at Crandall. I never bought it, but she did...for a reason."

"What about those stories she wrote? The evil aliens? And if she wasn't crazy, why did she stab that boy?"

"I think she was just sick of being at Crandall; all of the teasing and put-downs." Piper sighed. "She may have been wanting to find a way to separate herself from her father. If she hated him, I never noticed, and he was never around much when I was at her house."

"What about her mother?"

"She was usually upstairs taking a nap or would go out. Justine said something about her seeing a therapist. She had surgery once."

"Did you know about the rape during this time?" Sonya asked.

"Justine told me one night, and I thought it was just another story, especially when she said that her father had been a part of it."

"And she didn't tell you why he would do it?"

"No. That's what made it seem like a story. But I should have known better."

"Do they still live in Holland Hills?"

"No, they separated last year. Angela hired an attorney from my dad's firm in Falls River, so they might finally go through with it."

"Did her mom have her suspicions?"

"I think so. But only she would know why Mr. Kent would hire those men."

"Don't you think it's a coincidence that Jimmy Hepler was a Blue Diamond?"

"No. The bikers in her stories could have been the same as the aliens; just a distraction for me and everyone else while she was making other plans."

"To get out of Crandall?"

"It doesn't seem like much, I know. But both of her parents graduated from Crandall. They donated money to the school. I think she wanted to get even with them, especially her father. It almost makes sense."

"He was sent to prison..."

"He only served a few years, he was free by the time Justine was ten years old. She came to Crandall by the time she was twelve, and we became friends. I had been there since the second grade."

"What was it like at Crandall?"

"Higher expectations, more money, more bitchiness. At the same time, more opportunities."

"Better than East Marine, I would think."

"In some ways, worse. At East Marine, there's so many kids, you can be invisible if you want. At Crandall, everyone knew your business. Ever hear of the Holland Hills Country Club?"

"Yes."

"That's where the Crandall parents cross paths most of the time. Justine and I used to go there for Sunday brunch with my mom. We would have to sit for hours while the other parents bragged up their kids' accomplishments. You had to be good at everything, or you couldn't be seen there. They gave off the impression that they were only tolerating my mom because she had become a member when she was still married to my dad, but I don't think they liked having divorced people around. The only thing I miss is the tennis court. I liked tennis, so did Justine."

"When she was still...normal?"

"To be honest, Justine was never normal, but she was fun."

"Did you two...ever...?"

"Not like that! We weren't ready, just kissed sometimes. Held hands when we were alone."

"Do the other girls at school know?"

"Like Kelly or Courtney? Jess? If they do, they haven't said anything. Bobby has probably told them, but that's okay, I never swore him to secrecy."

"I thought you didn't like secrets."

"The only thing I hate more are lies."

*****

Sonya went downstairs to find Bill staring at his old knives on the couch, a piece of paper in his hand.

"I found the receipt," he said. "Mike Winstead bought that knife from me. See?"

Sonya took the receipt and read, in Bill's neat print, the date and time of the sale, along with the brand of knife, serial number, and how much Mike paid, his and Bill's signatures scrawled on the bottom.

Aron called from the kitchen. "I think Mike may have brought it back for some reason."

"The sale date is last March," Sonya said. "Before you moved in, Dad."

"I found some more in that box," Bill said.

He pointed to a shoe box, gray from age, with the word 'Florsheim' printed in yellow letters on the side. "Kyle Stone bought my old Winchester rifle from me around the same time."

"Kyle hunts?" Sonya asked.

"His dad used to take him sometimes," Bill said. "Out past North Marine. The brothers would take acid and shoot at nothing. I watched 'em once; T. Hanson and Donut and those other maniacs. I got lost out there. This kid found me, green paint on his face..."

"Uncle Bill, remember when you told me about those girls that disappeared? When was that?"

"What girls?"

"Fifteen years ago," Aron said. "But it started before then. Some girl would turn up missing..."

"At the bottom of the lake," Bill said. "Yeah, I remember that. Ben Garcia and the other cops would start searching the lakes and river whenever another girl was found. It would stop for awhile, then stopped all together."

"Why do you think it stopped?" Sonya asked.

"Because whoever was killing those girls went away."

"To Florida?"

"That's what I think. Or maybe the brothers turned against him."

*****

Bobby was doing his homework at the kitchen table when he heard the key turn in the lock.

Delia did not make Rick give back his key to the apartment. His things were still in there, piled on the couch.

Rick stepped in. "Hey."

Bobby ignored him. Rick went into the kitchen, pulling out a black garbage bag from underneath the sink. He dropped the clothes into the bag, twisting the top between the fingers of his left hand, closing the bag shut. "Tell Mom I'm staying with friends."

Bobby nodded, his back to Rick.

"I saw your friend at the bookstore, hiding in the parking lot. She needs to mind her own business. She could get hurt."

Bobby swung around. "What are you talking about?"

"I know who's attacking those girls, cutting up their faces. The Diamonds knew from the beginning, but the cops don't want to look that close. Brings back bad memories of fishing girls out of the lake."

Bobby noticed Rick was staring at his fingers, still in the splint.

"Who is it?" Bobby asked. "Another Blue Diamond?"

Rick shrugged, making the bag sway in his hand. "It doesn't matter. They'll deal with him."

"Why don't they tell the police?"

"Because the police are lazy drunks, like Garcia. Why would the Diamonds tell them anything?" Rick tossed Bobby the charm bracelet, and Bobby caught the chain between his two bound fingers. "Take this to Ashley when you see her."

"She says you owe her money."

"I gave it to her brother. She'll get it."

"Why would the Diamonds even care about what the Ravisher is doing?" Bobby asked.

Rick chuckled, his chubby face split in a grin as he swung the bag back and forth. "He calls himself the Ravisher, but the Diamonds call him Dead Man Walking. Donut's hired his cousin Toon to come up from Florida to do the hit."

"Why...so much planning?"

"The Diamonds always watch out for each other, bitch."

"Did the Ravisher do something to a Diamond?"

"It's more complicated. I don't even know the whole story. But I do know it has something to do with those dead girls."

"A serial killer?"

Rick threw back his head and laughed. "The cops can't say it was just the drugs. Marine has a lot of sick people..."

"Are you taking your meds, Rick?" Bobby asked.

"All I do is sleep on those pills. Nothing feels real. But I've never felt real. Like a ghost."

Bobby could recall the last time Rick made 'ghost' remarks, and Delia put Bobby on an informal suicide watch two summers ago, culminating in Rick trying to jump off the roof of the downtown Marine Harbor Hotel. Sharon got him to come down, Rick once again hospitalized. Bobby had been thirteen, Rick eighteen.

"What friends are you staying with?" Bobby asked.

"Shawn and his girlfriend Bree. They're at the Marine Estates trailer park."

*****

"Hi, Tony," Garcia said.

Tony Beck met the detective outside of the old house he shared with Kristen and their parents. "Hi."

"Are your folks home?"

"No. Dad's at work. Mom and Kristen went to the store."

Garcia leaned against the hood of his old Chevy, a few autumn leaves sticking to the drops of rain. "I took a ride out to Lister's house in North Marine. It's empty."

"I heard about the backruptcy." Tony ran a hand through his thick hair, a red fleece jacket over his T-shirt and jeans. "You'd think Old Man Lister would have a stash of money hidden out by his swimming pool. Like The Sopranos."

Garcia did not suppress his smile. "How much were you paid an hour?"

"Nine dollars."

"That's it?"

"His kids were in college."

"What about the ex-cons? The illegals?"

"The illegals made seven-fifty. And they worked their asses off."

Garcia nodded. "I'm a bit out of luck, Tony. Something on paper would have been helpful, but I think you must've worked for Lister long enough to remember a few names."

"They would come and go. I only worked for Lister for about five months last year. The same the year before."

"During the summer?"

"Right. Peak season for construction. We could have a house up in a month or less."

"Did any of the young white guys, not ex-cons, stay as long as you?"

"A few."

"Names?"

"There was Jason Briggs and his brother Raymond. Ray ended up cutting off a finger, and he didn't come back. Alex Vandersteldt joined the Air Force. That peeper guy, I don't think he was an ex-con. I saw him in the mall, and I still can't remember his name. But I do remember the guy who caught him at that woman's window. Kyle Stone. He told Old Man Lister, but the guy just didn't come back. After awhile, I was the only white worker left before Lister suspended construction last November."

"What did the peeper look like?"

"Short. Dark hair. Strong, worked out with weights. Hard worker, but kept to himself."

"Anything else?"

"Not even a damned tattoo or a scar. I lay in bed at night trying to remember..."

"Do you think he grew up in the area?" Garcia asked.

"I think so. He seemed to know his way around, but he didn't talk to me much. I think he was the same age as me, but I couldn't tell you what high school he went to. If he went to East Marine, I'd remember it."

Garcia picked a yellow leaf off his car's hood. He turned it around, the stem between his fingers. "How's Kristen doing?"

"She's still working. Darius usually gives her a ride home."

"This guy won't wait much longer, there's going to be another victim."

"What scares me is that the next girl might not be left alive."

"In the e-mail to Kristen, the Ravisher made it sound as if he is on a quest. Each attack, each girl, is bringing him closer to something he wants."

"He's a psycho, that's for sure."

"I was hoping the Ravisher had graced Haven Rest with his presence at one time. I looked through some patient files, found some possibilities. Does the name Rick Chambers sound familiar?"

Tony nodded. "When we used to live at the Lakeshore Apartments, Rick Chambers lived in the apartment below us with his mom and his little brother. Rick has mental problems, we could hear him yelling sometimes. The police would come."

"Did you go to school with him?"

"Yes, but he didn't graduate."

"How about a guy named Trey Winstead?"

Garcia watched Tony's handsome young face register surprise, followed by a sheepish smile. "That's his name! I kept thinking Taylor or Tracy. It was driving me nuts!"

"You mean, Trey Winstead was the peeper?"

"Yes. Oh, my God. Arrest him!"

"I'll definitely be questioning him."

Tony was now grinning, his face flushed. "I can't wait to tell Kris—"

"Hold on for a minute. There's no proof yet. Trey Winstead was a patient at Haven Rest a few years ago, but so was Chambers."

"Were they there at the same time?"

"No, but close. Winstead was a suicide attempt. So was Chambers."

"If Trey is arrested, will there still be a curfew?"

"Unless he confesses, the curfew will be enforced."

"You need to hurry"

"Yes, I do."

### Chapter Nineteen

"I'll be back in an hour to pick you up," Aron said. "Don't leave the building alone."

"I won't, Dad." Sonya leaned to open the door to get out of the truck. "I'll be downstairs."

"Why?"

"I'm looking up articles for a research paper."

Sonya entered the downtown Marine Public Library, another Victorian, century-old structure that had been restored many times over the years. Sonya walked up the wide marble steps, covered in weathered green felt, through the heavy modern doors to the foyer. The high ceiling boasted an old chandelier, the checkered floor tiles from fifty years ago. A doorway on the right led to the help desk and bookshelves. The fireplace was never lit, but an old man sat in a stuffed chair, reading a newspaper. To the left, winding metal stairs led to the magazines and newspapers.

A library volunteer, an elderly woman in a pink fleece shirt with a puppy and kitten design, showed Sonya the Marine Press archives that were placed on microfiche, taking up a roomful of filing cabinets..

"Is there a particular article you're looking for?" the volunteer asked.

"Anything on the Blue Diamonds," Sonya said.

"I'd say you have your work cut out for you. There has to be articles going back forty years. That's when those devils first came to town. What year do you want to start?"

"1990."

Sonya chose that year for a reason. Due to a new mayor, the Marine Police Department was cracking down on the Blue Diamonds by 1990, meaning more drug busts and court dates. Justine's mother was attacked nine years ago, and the girls were being fished out of Marine's side of Lake Michigan by 1995, although the Diamonds' grip on Marine was lessening.

The woman returned with the microfiche, each small roll in individual boxes, labeled by year. She attached the first roll to a spindle, each page shown on a small screen. Sonya, turning the handle of the spindle, whizzed through each page of each issue of the Marine Press, not surprised to see Cal's byline in most of the Diamond-related articles. Mayor Carol DeKooning, the Diamond-buster, had provided enough action for Cal to write about, but Sonya was surprised at the lack of interest regarding the missing girls. Mayor DeKooning seemed more intent on drug busts, creating an image of herself as unyielding.

Sonya stayed focused on each article, most on the front page. The leader of the Marine branch of the Blue Diamonds, Terrence 'T' Hanson, was photographed in color outside of the club-house. Dark sunglasses, a leather cap on his bald head, a fat belly hanging over his jeans. He wore a white T-shirt under a black leather vest, the Blue Diamond grinning skull on the back. He was leaning against a vintage Harley-Davidson. A quote was printed above the photo, the issue from June 8, 1991:

"Politicians can't be expected to understand the loyalty my brothers have for each other. Before DeKooning, there was Bob Hale. Mayors come and go, but the presence of the Diamonds will always remain in Marine, because we provide a service the local politicians don't; loyalty and protection. The people of Marine trust us."

T. Hanson had been a ballsy guy, Sonya thought. DeKooning must have hated him.

She glanced through a few more issues until she came to another front-page story about a drug bust; this time, a crack house in Marine Heights. The story was continued to a back page that led to another small article.

A photo, taken at a graveside service. Several Blue Diamonds and their women stood amid the tombstones nearby. The coffin was small.

"Blue Diamond Leader Attends Funeral–

T. Hanson was seen Friday afternoon at Marine Township Cemetery, following the funeral of an infant daughter of Wayne Stone, a fellow Diamond. Stone recently testified against Rudy Marks, a major Marine-based seller of heroin with ties to the Blue Diamonds in Marine and Orlando, Florida..."

Sonya looked closer at the photo, most of the people with their backs to the camera. Sonya recognized a younger Barb, wearing a long black dress, holding a child's hand, a dark-haired little boy. Next to Barb, a man wearing leather and a cowboy hat, his chin covered with a bushy goatee.

Wayne Stone.

The tiny coffin was covered with flowers, suspended on a stand before going into the ground.

Lily had died from crib death.

Sonya called after the volunteer, asking if she could get a copy of the article. She looked through many more, through the next three years. Nothing more had been written about the missing girls, no interviews of parents looking for their daughters.

Why didn't Cal follow the story? Sonya thought.

She managed to answer her own question when she found an article from November 3, 1995. Cal's by-line was followed by a story about the discovery of seventeen year old Lisa Connor, missing for weeks. Tangled in weeds and leaves, her naked body was found floating in Eagle Lake in East Marine, less than a mile from Piper's house.

Cal listed the missing girls:

Tammy Ross, 19,Dawn Eddy, 21,Becky Hanchera, 23, Michelle Lord, 18, Jackie Mays, 19, and Lisa Connor, 17.

Six young women and teens found floating over a period of four years. They were strangled, a few possibly drugged. Sonya requested a copy of this article as well.

She did not have to search long before she found the first story about the kidnapping and rape of Angela Kent. Cal did not make the police department seem especially heroic, although Angela did express her gratitude. Detective Bass had been kind, cutting her from her bonds at the bed, covering her with a blanket until paramedics arrived. He was photographed carrying six year old Justine, still asleep from being drugged, out of the cabin, her head on his shoulder.

Cal had stayed close to the story, reporting on Philip Kent's attack on Jimmy Hepler, and the trial that followed. Angela even took the stand in her husband's defense, begging the jury to understand that guilt drove Philip to assault Hepler, that any man in his place would consider doing the same. The judge was lenient, sentencing Philip to three years in a minimum security penitentiary outside of Falls River.

A few years later, Justine would enter the Crandall Academy.

Why did Angela Kent stay in Marine? Sonya thought. Why would she want to?

*****

"Hi, Cupcake."

Bobby stood at the door, Bill smiling at him. "You call Piper, 'Cupcake.'"

Bill shrugged. "You're a cupcake, too. Come on in."

Bobby patted Helga on the head, walking through the mud-room to the kitchen, where Sonya and Piper were sitting at the table.

When Bobby came closer, he noticed Piper holding a knife at the handle, the blade's tip resembling a half-moon. She looked up at Bobby and smiled. "The mystery knife."

"Looks savage," he said.

Bobby was dressed in jeans, the legs ending above the ankles, a hot-pink fleece jacket over a white T-shirt, a blue and gray checked cap on his head. His fingernails were painted pink, an old pair of saddle shoes on his feet. When he removed his cap, his blonde hair had been shaped with gel into a attempt at a 1950s-style ducktail, the sides combed up and back, the bangs just brushing his forehead. He took off his jacket and sat down.

"Kristen called me last night," Sonya said. "Ben Garcia wants to question Trey Winstead and Kyle. Supposedly, Kyle caught Trey peeping in some woman's bedroom window at Whispering Pines. They both worked for Lister Construction last year."

"Did you ask Kristen if she goes on FriendsRing?"

"She said no, she doesn't even have a page on Facebook." Sonya sat down at the table. "Bobby, Garcia told Tony that Rick was a patient at Haven Rest around the same time as Trey Winstead. Did you know that?"

"No. Rick never mentioned anyone else at Haven Rest, except for his therapist, who he thought was a jerk."

"Is it possible that he would have met Justine?" Sonya asked.

Piper placed the knife back in the case. "Maybe. Boys and girls are only separated at bed-time."

"So there has to be some hook-ups," Bobby said.

"Which is something the nurses wouldn't want to deal with," Sonya said.

Bill was sitting at his chair with Helga, reading a newspaper.

"Uncle Bill? Do you remember Mike Winstead ever saying anything about his son having mental problems?"

Bill put the paper down on his lap. "He was depressed for awhile. Broke up with some girl. That was before I retired."

"Did Mike tell you that Trey tried to kill himself?"

"Yes, he did. Mike raised Trey alone, after Judy took off. Trey was just a baby..."

"If Trey is only twenty years old," Sonya said, "Mike must have been older—"

"Almost forty when Trey came along. Judy was a lot younger, maybe early twenties. Mike had been married before, and helped raise his step-kids. He comes home from work one day, and finds Judy and her suitcase gone, Trey asleep in his crib."

"She left him there alone?" Sonya asked.

"Yeah. Mike's mother helped a lot after that. Judy moved to California."

"Does Garcia know any of this?"

"You can ask him yourself when he stops by."

"What?"

"Aron said he called while you were out. Someone gave Cal the serial numbers on that knife, and Garcia will trace those numbers to me."

Sonya jumped from her chair. "Does Dad know?"

"He's helping me clean out the shed. I can take my plants to Ernie's farm."

"I'm sorry, Uncle Bill. I wasn't thinking."

"We'll be okay, we just have to be careful."

Sonya came closer to Bill's chair. "What about Barb?"

"We already called her. It's okay."

The sliding glass door opened, and Aron entered. "I put the camper cover on."

Bill nodded. "We can go later. After dark."

Sonya turned to Piper and Bobby. "You guys want to see my room?"

*****

"How long have you lived with your dad and uncle?" Bobby asked.

"Since June," Sonya said. "My mom died in the spring."

Bobby and Piper sat at the futon in the attic room, looking around at the modest space, Sonya sitting on the pink rug.

"I know, it's not much," she said. "But I had to move in a hurry."

"I know what that's like," Bobby said. "By the way, Rick came back. I was there alone..."

Bobby went on to tell about Rick seeing Piper in the parking lot at the bookstore, and how the Blue Diamonds seem to know the identity of the Ravisher. "I asked Rick why the Diamonds would even care, and all he told me was that some guy named Donut sent his cousin up from Florida to do the hit on the Ravisher. Rick also thinks the Ravisher has something to do with the girls who were found in the lake."

"I found some articles in the Press about the floaters." Sonya opened the folder in her lap, taking out the copied articles. "I also found some about Justine and when Kyle's baby sister died."

Piper and Bobby looked over the articles, passing the papers back and forth.

"How is any of this getting you closer to the Ravisher?" Piper asked.

"Garcia has access to files and witnesses who would never speak to me," Sonya said. "I'm lucky Kristen calls me. The fact that Garcia is going to question Trey and Kyle doesn't surprise me, because they did work for Lister—"

"But Trey Winstead is not necessarily the Ravisher."

"Only if Garcia can connect Trey to the victims somehow. Kristen saw Trey Winstead at church, but Jess and Emily have never met him."

"What about the names on the FriendsRing lists?"

"Garcia is looking into that, too. But I don't think the answer is there."

"If Trey and Kyle have alibis, then Garcia will be back to the beginning. The curfew will have to be enforced."

"Does the curfew apply to boys, too?" Bobby asked.

"No," Sonya said. "I read in the Press that girls between the ages of fourteen and seventeen have to be with an adult after six o'clock until nine in the morning. If any girl is found alone, they're taken into custody until the parents are found."

"Nine o'clock? What if they have to catch the bus?"

"An adult has to be present or the girls get a ride."

"The one thing I've noticed," Piper said, "is that the Ravisher hasn't waited more than a week between victims. Emily's attack was last Saturday."

"He reads the paper, he must know about the curfew. And the police will probably encourage Cal to write about the attacks, to make the Ravisher pay attention. He'll start to get cocky and make a mistake."

"Can you imagine Trey Winstead as the Ravisher?" Bobby asked.

Sonya shrugged. "I don't know. I've never spoken to the guy. He takes Kyle to work and drops him off at home. That's it."

"Does he look mean?"

"No."

"And Kyle?"

"He's cute."

"Are they friends?" Piper asked.

"Trey helped him work on his car. Kyle mentioned something about Trey owing him a favor..."

"They both worked together at Whispering Pines. Kyle caught Trey peeping, and told Tony, maybe even their boss. Trey quits his job. But later, they're working at Metal Concepts together, and Trey is giving Kyle a ride to work every night? Is that the favor?"

"Maybe Trey decided to forgive and forget," Bobby said.

"Yeah. Guys are like that," Piper said.

Bobby did not miss the sarcasm in her voice. "So what are you going to do after six at night? Sexting that Ariel person?"

"You can hang out with me at my house."

"Thanks. It's been quiet without Rick around."

"Where is he staying now?" Sonya asked.

"With some friends at the trailer park. A Diamond named Shawn."

"Does he have long brown hair?" Piper asked.

"I don't know."

"The guy I saw with Rick had long brown hair past his waist."

"I think I met him at Barb's house," Sonya said.

"Do you think you could go with me out to Ashley's place tomorrow?" Bobby asked.

Sonya nodded. "Do you want to meet here or at your place?"

"My place. We can take the scooter to Ashley's."

"My dad can give me a ride."

*****

Aron did not want Sonya to be alone in the house, so she rode out with them to Ernie Shafer's farm, almost ten miles north.

Aron turned left on to a dirt road, fall leaves blowing over the fields of tall corn stalks. A fat harvest moon glowed in the sky, heavy clouds floating by.

Bill rolled the window down. "I can smell it."

"Smell what?" Sonya asked.

"Wet weed."

"Smells like burning dog hair," Aron said.

Sonya was sitting between Aron and Bill, Helga left at home. Sonya detected the heavy odor in the night air, something rotten. "Yeah, it stinks."

"Ernie has crops out here," Bill said. "One of these days, helicopters are going to land."

"Ernie used to be a Blue Diamond," Aron said. "He moved up here from Florida, and got into a bad motorcycle accident, almost crippled him."

"Ernie's okay," Bill said. "He never did anything but grow and sell weed."

Aron turned right on to a muddy driveway, the brights revealing a decaying farmhouse.

"Is he home?" Aron asked.

"He doesn't leave much," Bill said. "He lives in the trailer now."

"The house is just rotting?"

"Ernie moved out years ago."

Aron cruised the truck past the house, a trailer close by, white with yellow trim, the front light on. Several old vehicles and a few motorcycles took up the area.

They heard a dog barking, then the trailer door swung open. A small, skinny man, dressed in a T-shirt and sweatpants, came outside, walking with a metal cane, a red bandana wrapped around his bald head. A Boxer, with the same colors as Helga, ran ahead of him.

They got out of the truck. Bill rubbed the dog's head. "This is Jed, Sonya. One of Helga's puppies."

"Best dog I ever had," Ernie said, in a voice hoarse from decades of smoking. "I'd breed him, but he's scared to death of other dogs. He only likes people."

Bill laughed, and Ernie's rough face split in a grin. "He's just out here, Ern, with you and the weed."

"I grow tomatoes, too. I like to grow things." Ernie gave a friendly nod to Aron and Sonya. "I hear Garcia's coming around your neighborhood."

"These girls are being attacked in town," Aron said.

"I read about that in the paper," Ernie said. "What a psycho. Garcia came to the club-house, looking for T. Well, T.'s been in Florida, trying to come back from a stroke. Donut was in charge, but he's sick, too. Leukemia. His son Waylon asked why Garcia wanted to see T., but he wouldn't say."

Ernie followed them to the back of the truck, the camper cover hiding Bill's potted marijuana plants. Sonya stood aside while Bill and Aron carried out all eight plants, in full bloom, the tips of the long, narrow leaves, with their zig-zag shape, brushing against the ground.

Sonya could not believe how a harmless looking plant was such a big deal. If Bill or Ernie were ever arrested, they would have to pay thousands of dollars in fines and months in jail.

"I don't go to the club-house much anymore," Ernie said. "Most of my friends are dead, and I can't ride anymore, not with my legs."

Jed sniffed at the plants, then approached Sonya, who petted him. "He looks just like her."

"Jed's father was mostly white," Bill said. "I mated Helga with him twice. Can't remember his name, though..."

"I can put your plants in my barn. Up in the loft," Ernie said.

"I'm surprised DeKooning hasn't busted you yet."

"DeKooning? She doesn't even live in Michigan anymore."

"Oh. Right..."

"Good thing, if you ask me. I once heard that T. wanted her dead. Toon said T. offered him twenty-thousand for the hit, but T. changed his mind."

"Who's Toon?" Sonya asked.

Ernie turned around, noticing Sonya as if for the first time. "Toon is an evil dude. Death follows him."

### Part Three-Skin Or Bone
### Chapter Twenty

The boy was at the club-house when his father found Jimmy. The boy's father had been tending bar and stayed late. The boy had fallen asleep in a basement room, the same room where Waylon's girls would be with different guys, usually the young Diamonds who still had to pay.

The boy could have stayed home, but the noise was driving him crazy. The house smelled like baby pee, and his mother could not seem to keep up with the toilet training. His father was not much help, but he was staying home more.

He never took the boy back to the lake and the floating women were just a bad memory, like so many others.

The boy had spent part of the night at the bar, helping his father. The place became busy, the brothers coming in with their old ladies, playing pool or watching TV, maybe a few more kids would be around. The women would leave by ten, and the brothers would get more wild. Waylon would show up with his girls, and the boy was told to go downstairs. There was a bed and a TV in the room.

The girls could take the men to the bathrooms.

The boy had dozed off to the sound of loud talk and music. He was getting older, he knew what they did, with the drugs and girls. One girl, Nikki, was from Florida. She was part Seminole Indian, and showed the boy how she could tie a cherry stem into a bow with her tongue. He had sat there and watched her mouth while the brothers chuckled. He was not sure why they kept staring, but they seemed impressed.

The boy had been awakened by his father that night. He put on his coat, following his father out of the one-story building that had once been a tavern in the 1950s. His father opened the heavy back door, taking a few steps towards his bike, when he found Jimmy laying on the cracked pavement, his face a bloody pulp.

The boy stared at the unconscious Jimmy as his father ran back inside to call an ambulance.

The boy knew Jimmy, as he did all the brothers. The man's T-shirt and leather vest were soaked with blood, his long hair matted with it. The boy could make out the shut eyes, the slack lips, the mouth almost hanging open, but the center of Jimmy's face was missing.

His nose was gone.

The boy bent down, looking closer. His gaze came to a series of tiny pebbles by Jimmy's head. Later, he would be told that Jimmy lost several teeth when he was beaten by the metal baseball bat held by Philip Kent. Jimmy would later have to identify Kent in a line-up at the Marine Heights Police Department headquarters, because the club-house never used security cameras. The boy's father would not have to testify at the trial, because he made sure he and his son were gone before the police arrived.

The boy picked up one of Jimmy's teeth, holding the hard incisor gently between his fingers. When he heard his father open the door, he shoved the tooth in his coat pocket.

His father took him by the arm. "Come on. The operators record the calls nowadays. I need you to do it..."

*****

"Hi, Sonya."

She looked up to see Kyle approaching her. He was smiling, his hands stuffed in the pockets of his down coat. The day was chilly, Sonya wearing her hoodie in the front yard, Helga next to her on a leash.

"Hi," she said.

His smile faded. "Trey was taken in by Garcia."

"That doesn't surprise me."

He shrugged. "I once caught him looking in that lady's bedroom window. I was kidding around, and I sneaked up on him. He was startled, and he gasped. You know, high-pitched, like,'Huh-ah!' The lady heard him and she stepped towards the window. We ran out of there, and she didn't see us. Tony Beck blabbed about it to Garcia, but none of that makes Trey the Ravisher. He can't be."

"Trey seems like a quiet guy."

"He is. He was an only child, but his mom took off when he was a baby."

"Did Garcia ask you any questions?"

"Just about the day I caught Trey peeping."

A cold breeze blew through Kyle's hair and Sonya could not help but wonder why he had come around.

Even if he likes me, Sonya thought, he wouldn't want the trouble.

"Mom sent me over," he said. "She wants to know if you could babysit this Friday night. Donut might be going into the hospital for the last time. Mom wanted to visit with him and Carrie."

"Has your mom ever told you about a guy named Toon?"

A wide grin spread across Kyle's face. "Toon's a real bad ass. Been in and out of prison. Who told you about him?"

"Ernie."

"The weed-man?"

Sonya giggled. "He grows crops out there."

"He's lucky he hasn't got busted yet, the old fool. But the Diamonds still buy from him."

"Does Toon...kill people?"

"That's what I've heard. Funny thing, he's just a skinny guy. They call him Toon because he's covered in cartoon character tattoos. He has Bugs Bunny on one arm, Daffy Duck on the other. Tweety Bird on his neck. He'd be a joke if he had a conscience, but no one makes fun of Toon."

"How old were you when your dad died?"

"Ten, almost eleven."

"Did you go to the club-house a lot?"

"Not after my brothers were born. I stayed home to help Mom. But Dad would still ride. One night, the roads became icy and he wiped out in the wrong lane."

"I'm sorry."

"It was a long time ago."

"Did your—"

"You ask a lot of questions, Sonya."

"Kristen Beck told me that I'm a snoop."

"Do you think you're a snoop?" Kyle asked.

"I just like to know the truth."

"The truth can be complicated."

"People are complicated. Why do they make things so hard?"

"Fear. Everyone is afraid of something." He looked down at Helga, who did not leave Sonya's side, although her tail brushed against the ground as it wagged. "Can I tell Mom you'll babysit?"

*****

Sonya was upstairs, finishing a grammar assignment, when she heard Helga barking.

Someone had come to the house.

She was not expecting to see Mike Winstead standing in the living room, looking through Bill's hunting equipment on the couch.

"I thought I could use a tree stand," Mike said.

Sonya recognized the confused look in Bill's eyes, but he continued to smile. "I only had a few. We sold that last one on e-Bay. Right, Aron?"

Aron nodded. "There's just the bow and the knives now. A few suits."

Sonya looked to the knives in their cases, neatly laid on the end table next to the couch. She felt her father's gaze on her, as if he was waiting for her to say something about the knife.

She met his eyes, and realized he wanted her to stay silent.

Helga sniffed Mike's hand as he reached for the bow in its zipped-up case. "I remember when you took this out, Bill. Turkey hunting in Lamont."

"Never killed one. I don't like the taste of wild turkey."

"Then why did you go?"

"I liked being outdoors."

The clipped-point knife was towards the edge of the table, enclosed in its black case. Helga, who wanted to keep Mike's attention, backed up, and her rump brushed against the case, knocking the knife to the carpet.

Bill chuckled as he retrieved the knife. "Boxers. They're comical. Come here, Helga, before you knock over the lamp."

Mike held out his hand and Bill placed the case in his palm. Mike took a long look at the case before opening it. He cocked his head to one side. "This looks just like mine. The clipped-point. I bought it from you. Remember, Bill?"

"Do I! Took me days to find that receipt. It's got your name on it."

"The serial numbers match up, Mike," Aron said. "We don't know why its here. The knife should be with you."

"I loaned that knife to Trey. He still has it. There must be a mix-up with the serial numbers."

"Maybe."

Mike put the knife back on the table. He did not make eye contact as he pet Helga on the head and neck. "He was taken by the police for questioning last night. He's still there. They think he's attacking those girls, cutting up their faces. Ridiculous."

Sonya remained silent. Aron stepped closer to Mike. "Is that what the police told you?"

"I just know it. Trey told me last week not to be surprised if he was questioned. When I asked him why, he told me about what happened at his old job, working for Lister, and that Garcia would find out he had spent some time at Haven Rest. But that's no proof..."

"I'm sure the police are questioning other suspects."

"I don't think there's very many. But my boy would never attack those girls. He has a good heart."

Bill came up behind Mike, and patted him on the shoulder. "Trey found me in the woods, when I got lost..."

Mike shook his head. "Trey wasn't with us that day, Bill."

"Maybe we did mix up the serial numbers on the receipt," Aron said. "It's possible."

"Well, Bill," Mike said. "I was hoping you still had a stand."

"You can buy 'em cheap at Wal-Mart," Bill said.

Bill followed Mike outside, and Aron retrieved the knife from the table.

"Do you think there was a mix-up?" Sonya asked.

"No. Maybe I should call Garcia."

"If that knife belongs to Mike, how did it end up here?"

"I think someone brought it back."

*****

Bobby and Sonya got off the scooter, parking in front of Ashley's apartment unit at the Meadows.

"Did I already thank you for coming with me?" Bobby asked.

"Yes, you did," Sonya said.

The weather was gray and wet, the scooter making it to the Meadows before the downpour.

Bobby and Sonya, their helmets still on, ran to the unit, Bobby knocking at Ashley's door.

A young woman with blonde hair, loose around her shoulders, wearing black eyeliner and a tube top, opened the door. She smiled, and Sonya noticed the gap in her upper front teeth. "Come in before you're soaked!"

She laughed as they passed her into the apartment, taking off their helmets.

The first thing Sonya noticed was the Blue Diamond tapestry on the wall, similar to Barb's. The second thing was the two men sitting at opposite ends of a couch below. Both looked to be middle aged. Sonya blinked, trying not to stare at the man closest to her. His face was disfigured; a flat space with two holes where his nose used to be, a deep vertical scar in one cheek. He was bloated and balding, wearing a gray sweatshirt and jeans.

The other man had long auburn hair streaked with gray. Freckles were splashed on his face and arms. He was thin, wearing a sleeveless white T-shirt, and Sonya did not miss the Bugs Bunny tattoo on his lower arm.

She realized she was looking at Toon.

"Rick said he paid you back on the rent," Bobby said.

Ashley nodded. "I got the money."

Bobby placed the charm bracelet in her hand.

"Thanks," she said. "My dad bought me this years ago."

"Why did Rick take it?" Bobby asked.

She shrugged. "He probably took it as an excuse to come by, but that was before I filed the restraining order. I heard he's staying with Shawn and Bree." She looked down at Bobby's broken fingers. "I'm sorry he did that..."

"Has he tried to come around?"

"No. He knows Jimmy and Toon are staying with me for now."

"Is there anything you want me to tell him?"

Sonya had moved behind Bobby, as close to the door as possible, Ernie and Kyle's words in her head. Ernie had said that Toon was evil, and she did not forget that Philip Kent had cut off Jimmy Hepler's nose.

Sonya could not believe Ashley would live with these men.

Ashley sighed. "Just tell him to stay away. As soon as my lease is up, I'm moving."

*****

"You're telling me that Ashley has a hit man living with her?" Bobby asked.

He and Sonya had stopped off at a McDonald's for lunch, sitting in a booth.

"Not to mention the man who could have raped Justine's mother," Sonya said.

While they ate, Sonya explained about her visit to Ernie's farm and Philip Kent's attack on Jimmy Hepler nine years ago.

"Do you believe Philip Kent hired that Hepler guy to attack his own wife?" Bobby asked.

"But why?"

"I think it was about money."

"Kent made a good living."

"Angela Kent was wealthy. Her father owned the Marine Cinema. Now its the Marine Movieplex. Twenty-five screens."

"No wonder Justine can stay at Haven Rest all this time. Trey Winstead was a patient for awhile. The police haven't released him yet."

"Maybe they're trying to get a confession out of him."

"But what proof do they have?"

"They could search his place."

"For the ring or the watch?"

"I'll bet they're all over it. Even his truck."

"Mike said that he loaned the knife to Trey, but my dad thinks someone brought the knife back to Uncle Bill's house. But someone would have to get inside and put it in his closet. And Helga's usually there."

Bobby's squirted catsup from a packet on his French fries. "When is Helga not in the house? Does Bill take her for walks?"

"No. She just runs in the yard. She goes to the vet sometime—" Sonya put her cup, full of Dr. Pepper, back down. "There was one day, when the doors were unlocked. Uncle Bill's closet light was on. They had taken Helga for a booster shot."

"But why would Trey bring the knife back? Why not throw it in the lake?"

"And how would he know that Helga wouldn't be in the house?"

"Maybe he was watching?"

"He picks Kyle up for work almost every night. Otherwise, I don't see his truck around much."

"Is the truck his only vehicle?" Bobby asked.

"I think so. I could be wrong."

They finished their burgers and fries while watching the rain pour down against the windows.

"Winter before you know it," Bobby said. "The scooter will go into hibernation."

"I don't mean to be nosy—"

"Of course not."

"But gas isn't cheap, and you bought me lunch—"

"To thank you for coming with me. There are a few old ladies at my apartments and they need someone to help with housekeeping or pick up some groceries. I make a few dollars that way."

"I need a job."

"I can't believe Kristen Beck went back to the Chester Chicken."

"She needs money, too. And she thought the Ravisher would come back."

"He's too smart."

"There's only one way to know for sure that Trey Winstead is the Ravisher..."

"What could that be?" Bobby asked.

"The last attack happened more than a week ago. If Trey is still in custody, and another attack happens, they have the wrong guy."

*****

Piper was checking her e-mail when she learned that RomeoBoy was on-line from her buddy list.

She clicked on the box to connect.

RomeoBoy: We played a good show Friday. Were you there? ;)

Princess2014: No. I had other plans. But I've been meaning to go. Please be patient.

RomeoBoy: No problem. Would you like to meet again for coffee?

Jo-Jo stretched out on Piper's big bed, paws in the air. Robin was at her office on a Sunday, so Piper was alone, although Bobby mentioned he would stop by.

Piper sighed, typed in her response:

Princess2014: Coffee is okay, but I don't know what day. I'll have to get back to you.

Ariel's response surprised her:

RomeoBoy: Are you okay with this?

Piper was not sure what Ariel meant at first, and thought carefully before typing.

Princess2014: I just want to go slow. I have my mom and school to think about.

RomeoBoy: I understand, I'll IM you later. Bye.

Piper could not tell if Ariel was upset or not, but Piper had been avoiding her for days, and maybe she had finally taken a hint. Piper knew she was not ready for any kind of a relationship, and did not want anyone pushing her.

Piper was ready to go off-line when the e-mail prompter appeared, letting her know she had new mail. She was not surprised to see Justine's e-mail address and 'Ravisher' in the subject line. She opened the message:

"The wrong piggy has been caged. He wasn't the only guy here that hated his parents, there's so many more. How do I know? Come for a visit..."

Piper shook her head. Another file to send Bobby. She had been surprised that Garcia had never checked up on Justine's recent visitors. The last thing she needed was for him to come around, rehashing the past around her mother. Robin could never know about her going to Haven Rest to visit Justine. Robin had threatened to hire someone to watch Piper while she was working, even her father would go along if Justine was involved. Piper thought about dealing with her father, and shuddered. She only spoke to him three times a year now, his new home and wife in Falls River.

She sat back in her chair, thinking about what Justine meant by a piggy being caged.

Who could she mean? Piper thought.

She was still wondering when her cell phone rang next to her keyboard. She picked it up, checking the caller I.D.:

Bobby.

*****

Cal had spent most of Saturday working at his office, then met friends for drinks and dinner. He slept late Sunday, forgetting about his mail until he returned from the grocery store.

He used his key to open his mailbox in the downstairs hallway by the back door to his unit. He searched through his mail until he came to a small brown envelope, his name and address written in block letters. He could feel something bulky inside, at the bottom.

He took the envelope and the rest of the mail back to his apartment, stopping at his kitchen table.

He opened the flap with his thumb, slipping two fingers inside, pulling out a folded sheet of copy paper. He opened the paper, expecting a formal letter, but saw only one phrase, printed in the middle:

OCT 10-FIND ME

He put the paper down on the table. His mind was still considering the possibilities when he reached for the bulk at the bottom. He felt the plastic bag, carefully pulling it out.

A small sandwich bag with no seal, rolled up at one end. Cal held the bag between his fingers. He studied the contents, which were soft under the plastic. He thought he was looking at a piece of meat, maybe chicken, starting to turn gray.

Cal stared some more before he realized what he was holding. He dropped the bag to the table and grabbed his cell phone, dialing Garcia's number, his heart pounding. "Ben, I got something in the mail. I think its Emily Watts's earlobe."

### Chapter Twenty-One

Sonya was waiting for the school bus Monday morning when she saw a motorcycle roar through the morning mist, turning out of Barb's driveway. The Harley passed her, and she did not miss the long mane of brown hair.

Shawn must have spent the night, she thought.

Aron was out of bed, taking his place at the couch, cup of coffee in hand. Bill would sleep a few extra hours, giving Aron some peace while he ate his breakfast and showered without Bill asking him the time every ten minutes or if he had fed Helga.

He noticed the motorcycle passing Sonya as she stood at the end of the driveway. Bill had commented on the number of bikes coming into the neighborhood.

"You'd think Wayne was alive again," he said. "But the guys stopped coming around as much after the babies were born. Things quieted down."

Aron was watching Sonya get on the bus when the phone rang.

"Hello?"

"Mr. Neslund, this is Cindy at WorkStaffing. We have some work for you..."

"Oh. Really?"

"Harper's department store needs some help in men's clothing. They get busy at Christmastime and need some part-time help. Are you interested?"

Aron yawned into his coffee. If he took the assignment, his unemployment benefits would be effected, but not revoked. He would have to work evenings and weekends, leaving Bill and Sonya alone. However, he welcomed the idea of getting out of the house.

"Sure. I'll check it out. What time do you want me there?"

*****

"You want the Press to run the date?" Cal asked.

Garcia looked over at his supervisor, Captain Brian Schultz. Ten years Garcia's junior, Schultz was physically fit, bald, his glasses square-shaped black frames. He had a nerdy quality that was better suited for computer programming than police work.

"Seems too good to refuse, Cal," Schultz said.

"But how do you know the Ravisher isn't just playing with you? He could decide not to take a victim in October..."

They were all sitting at Schultz's desk in his small office, paper cups of coffee in front of them. Garcia had insomnia for the last few nights, and the delivery of Emily's earlobe to Cal only worsened his stress. The new mayor and the district attorney, tired of the public pressure, wanted the Ravisher found.

"Every thing you've mentioned is possible, Cal," Garcia said. "But for the Ravisher to make this kind of move, by sending you a personal message, tells me that he's getting as sloppy as I knew he would. He expects us to play along; he's enjoying this, and wants us to inform the public. Eventually, he will start sending more messages, convinced he's smarter than us. It's important that we let him believe this for awhile. I want you to communicate with this guy, let him get used to you, and we can get closer to him."

Cal sighed, then nodded slowly. "I can build a story around the date, and I'm sure Burt will be fine with it, but he may want more incentive..."

Garcia and Schultz knew this was coming, typical of Burt Snyder, the current and last editor of the Marine Press.

"Such as?" Schultz asked.

"The meth lab explosion at the trailer park."

The Marine PD had kept all press away from the story. The explosion, proceeded by a shooting, killed five people and injured more at Getty Estates in Fruit Ridge County. Cal, after two years, was not able to dig any information out of Garcia. Following the heavily-guarded clean-up, one of the victim's wives came forward about her husband making and selling meth for years, with connections to the Blue Diamonds as far as Florida and New Mexico. She told the police what she knew in exchange for staying out of jail and keeping her children. Her confession led to testifying in a trial that put her in the Federal Witness Protection Program.

Schultz shook his head. "The FBI's involvement keeps us from discussing the meth case with you or any other—"

"It's been two years," Garcia said.

"I just want to do a retrospective piece," Cal said. "I could speak to some of the locals who were effected. I don't have to bring up the FBI."

Garcia and Schultz exchanged a look, and Cal wondered how many strings would have to be pulled.

Schultz pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "I'll have to talk to someone at the Bureau. Maybe I can get permission for a story."

Both cops did not miss the look of conquest in Cal's eyes. "Great. Burt will have the date in tomorrow's paper, I'm sure. I'll go right up to his office and call you back soon."

Garcia could hear Cal humming a happy tune as he walked down the hallway. Garcia took his lukewarm coffee back to his desk. He pulled out a notepad, ready to begin organizing the chaos before tomorrow.

*****

Aron had left for his temp job at Harper's, so Bill decided to check on his plants in his shed.

The shed was old, made of metal, white paint peeling, the flat roof intact enough that Bill's plants could not be seen from above, but Bill had to cut out a small window in the back for sunlight to come in.

Bill received a surprise as he pointed the flashlight at the long wooden table, still covered with a layer of potting soil and empty water bottles.

All eight of his plants were gone.

He blamed the first group of people that came to mind. "Damn kids. Don't their parents know what they're doing half the time?"

The memory of the drive to Ernie's farm had disappeared from Bill's mind.

He was stepping out of the shed when Helga started barking. He heard the sound of a motorcycle engine and the tires crunching up his driveway.

The biker, wearing no helmet to cover his head, was Shawn. He came all the way up to Bill's fence before turning off his Harley.

Bill, up close, recognized Shawn, but he was not sure from when or where.

"Hi, Bill," Shawn said.

"Hi."

Shawn got off the bike, and walked towards the gate. Helga, growling softly, continued to watch him.

Bill shrugged. "Don't mind her..."

"She's just being protective."

"You can open the gate."

Shawn let himself in the yard. "Bill, I got some bad news. About Ernie."

Bill, at the mention of Ernie's name, could feel the memory, like bowling pins, line up in his head. "What about him?"

"He's dead. Jimmy Hepler found him out there. Somebody shot him."

"Oh, no. Poor Ernie."

"Nothing was taken from his place, Jed was inside. Carrie was going to get him from the pound, but the cops told her to wait."

Bill shook his head. "Who would want to kill Ernie?"

"Probably over his crops. The police seized all of it. There's going to be a lot of unhappy pot-heads in Marine."

"Yeah. Too bad."

"Where's your brother?"

"At a job, I think."

"Barb tells me that he helps you."

"Yes, he does. His daughter–my niece–lives with us."

"Do you know my name, Bill?"

"I don't recall..."

"It's okay."

"I wonder if Ernie'll get a funeral."

"Maybe the Diamonds can put something together. Are you left alone during the day, Bill?"

"Not usually. But Aron needs a job, Sonya goes to school."

"My name is Shawn. Shawn Kallis."

"Sounds familiar, but I can't say for sure..."

"Maybe I'll come by when Aron is home."

"Okay."

"Take it easy, man."

Bill and Helga watched Shawn leave the yard, shutting the gate behind him, and got back on his bike. He started the Harley and turned around in the driveway.

Bill entered the house before Shawn was back on the road. Who Shawn could be meant less to him than realizing the location of his plants. If all of the crops were seized by police, then Bill's plants had also been taken. Bill shook his head. A shame, although he had plenty of time to grow more before Christmas.

He looked at the remaining hunting equipment on his couch. He could place a free ad in the Marine Buyer's Guide, and have the remaining rifles and knives sold in a week.

He pulled out a small notebook and a pen. No use in waiting for Aron. He sat down at his chair, and started writing his ad, putting the words together before he forgot.

*****

Sonya walked off-campus to Mack's store with Piper and Bobby. They went to the wooded lot with their sandwiches and sodas. Sonya had brought her cell phone with her, checking her messages. Aron left the first, letting her know he would be working for the day at Harper's department store at the Four Winds Mall. She was surprised; selling men's ties seemed a bit beneath her father. She checked the second message, from Cal.

"Sonya, I need you to pass this on to Bill and Aron. Ernie Shafer was found dead out at his farm. I'll try calling Aron later. Love you. Bye."

"Sonya?" Piper asked.

"Yeah?" Sonya put her phone in her pocket.

"Bobby has a doctor's appointment, and I don't like to be alone at my house right now. Could you come over tonight?"

"Sure. If my dad can take me."

"The doctor wants to look at my fingers," Bobby said. "If he takes the splints off, I can wash my hair with both hands and zip up my pants easier."

"And Rick is off the hook," Piper said.

Bobby shrugged "In his own way, he's sorry. I think he'll stay on his own for awhile."

"Is he taking his meds?"

"Who knows?"

"If Rick isn't a Blue Diamond, why is he allowed to hang out at the club-house?" Sonya asked.

Bobby handed his sandwich to Piper to unwrap for him. "The Diamonds can let buddies in on certain nights. Rick mentioned going there on Wednesdays."

"Not on the weekends?"

"I don't think so."

"It makes me wonder about Justine's father, but I can't recall what day of the week he attacked Jimmy Hepler. But it was late at night."

"You'd think one of the other Diamonds would have noticed Philip Kent hanging around," Piper said. "Those guys would have told him to leave."

"Unless he was helped," Sonya said. "Hiding in a vehicle, or behind the building..."

"Someone else? Another Diamond?"

"Maybe Jimmy was set up?"

Bobby rolled his eyes. "Eat your sandwich, Sonya."

Sonya looked down at the wrapped chicken salad sandwich in her hand. She disliked these sandwiches, the bread was dry. "Philip Kent needed a victim to make him look good, but the police couldn't prove that he was behind his wife's kidnapping and rape."

"The only way they could prove it is if one of the men Kent supposedly hired came forward. No one did."

They ate their lunches in silence until another group of students came through the trees, the lot now covered in a carpet of fall leaves. Sonya recognized Kaitlyn and her boyfriend Dane Lock, wearing his letter jacket, another couple behind them.

Dane's gaze passed over Piper and Bobby, but neither of them looked away, knowing the seniors wanted the wooded space to sneak a joint or make out before going back to class.

Sonya turned around, looking Dane in the eye. "You better save what you have. Might be awhile before you can buy more."

Kaitlyn gave her a confused look, but Sonya kept her gaze on Dane's soft, handsome face. His lips curled into a smirk. "What?"

"Ernie is dead, so the dealers will need to find a new supplier. Pass it on."

*****

"Whatever suspicions the police had about Philip Kent hiring men to hurt his wife were never mentioned in the articles," Sonya said.

She and Piper were sitting at the piano bench at Piper's house.

Sonya, before Aron brought her over, studied the articles once again. Justine never gave any testimony, but a doctor came forward, who had tested her blood for drugs. Angela Kent made her husband sound like a good man, their marriage solid.

Piper smiled, shaking her head. "I'm sorry, Sonya, but I keep thinking about what you said to Dane Lock..."

"Dane's a jerk. Kristen told me."

"Why does your cousin like him?"

"I don't know. Kaitlyn's a cheerleader, and Dane plays football."

"She likes being a part of _that_..."

"The status quo. I can understand why, I know her mother."

Piper pulled down the cover on the piano keys. "Do you think Trey Winstead could really be the Ravisher?"

"He doesn't seem like the type," Sonya said. "True, he was a patient at Haven Rest, and he did some kind of weird art with cut-up photos of women's faces, but that's not enough proof. The police have to prove that Trey was around the victims at the time of their attacks. A link, between him and all three girls."

"Kristen said she saw him at her church."

"He also works at Metal Concepts, but Kristen never met him. He was also a stranger to Jess and Emily."

"What about the knife?" Piper asked.

"I gave Cal the serial number, and he passed it on to Garcia."

"Did you call Cal back?"

"I forgot. I was in such a hurry after I got home, and Uncle Bill seemed confused. He said some guy had stopped by, telling him Ernie was dead. I already knew that, but Dad was trying to get Uncle Bill to explain who the guy was. Uncle Bill said he was a Blue Diamond; Barb's boyfriend, Shawn."

"How did your uncle come to know the Blue Diamonds?"

"He knows a few, including Ernie. Everyone in Marine knows a Blue Diamond, right?"

"That's what my mom likes to say."

"Have you received any messages from Justine lately?" Sonya asked.

"Not for the last few days."

"If Trey is arrested, maybe she'll leave you alone."

Piper smiled. "I can only hope."

Piper and Sonya were sitting close at the small bench. Piper reached over, taking some of Sonya's long red-orange hair between her fingers. "Have you ever considered a perm?"

"I got a perm once. My hair is too thick already, and it was a mess, frizzy and uncontrollable. I begged my mom to get it cut, and she gave in. I wore my hair short the rest of the year."

Piper did not let go of Sonya's hair as she leaned in, her lips brushing Sonya's in a quick kiss. Sonya's expression remained neutral as she tried to comprehend what just happened.

Piper, before she kissed Sonya, did not think of what Sonya's reaction would be. When she pulled away, waiting for Sonya to say or do something, she realized she may have made a mistake.

She pulled her own hair away from her eyes, then looked down. "I'm sorry. You're not mad at me, are you?"

Sonya shook her head and reached over, her hand on Piper's shoulder. "Don't be sorry. I've never been kissed before..."

"Would you rather have a boy kiss you?"

"I don't know. Maybe."

Sonya started to laugh softly; Piper stared at her for a moment, then let out a nervous giggle. "I let Everett Lock kiss me at a party last year. He tried to put his tongue in my mouth. He tasted like cigarettes and Mountain Dew."

"I probably taste like Dr. Pepper."

"I like Dr. Pepper, but I never liked Ev. Don't like his brother, either. They think they're the kings of the school, but they're nothing extraordinary."

Sonya's smile faded. "You don't have to be extraordinary to control people."

"The Ravisher isn't special."

"But Justine seems to think he is, and that tells me the police have the wrong man."

*****

Garcia was given a warrant to search Trey Winstead's house by nine o'clock that night.

The small rental home was located in the city limits of Marine, ten minutes from downtown, a simple blue house.

Captain Schultz accompanied Garcia, their gloved hands searching the two bedrooms and one bathroom, a mounted deer head, the eight-point buck, hanging from the living room wall. The men found nothing unusual except for a small bag of marijuana. Trey did not own a PC, only a lap-top which was found in his bedroom. Schultz searched through the lap-top's files while Garcia went to the basement.

Garcia smelled the mildew and noticed a few cobwebs. He turned on an overhead light, then walked past the washer and dryer to another small room, the door shut. Upon entering, he noticed boxes stacked from floor to ceiling. The basement windows were painted black. A few hunting rifles, in their zipped-up cases, leaned against the wall.

Garcia's gaze travelled over the boxes, not looking forward to searching each one.

He had spent almost sixteen hours trying to squeeze a confession out of Trey Winstead, although he had not been arrested, or even asked why he was being questioned. He remained silent until Robin Jones, hired by his father, appeared. Winstead was released and returned to work at Metal Concepts.

Garcia knew exactly what he was looking for as he had picked through Winstead's dresser drawers, in the closets of both rooms, searching for loose floor boards and bricks.

He would keep his souvenirs within reach, Garcia thought. Jess's ring, Kristen's watch...

He almost jumped at the sound of Schultz's voice behind him. "This guy is boring."

Garcia pointed to the boxes. "Do you think the ring and watch are in these boxes?"

"No. Somewhere more special. Maybe a jewelry box or a shoebox, kept in an unlikely place."

"Toilet tank? Dishwasher?"

"Let's check out the kitchen first. We can always send someone else to search these boxes."

Garcia followed his superior upstairs to the kitchen. Schultz opened the freezer at the top of the small refrigerator.

"Reminds me of a break-in in Marine Heights," he said. "Some crackheads stole every thing they could from this old lady's house. She was retired teacher, had a bookshelf full of the classics; Shakespeare, Tolstoy, and a big Bible she would keep her cash and extra credit cards in. Crackheads aren't big readers, because her money and credit cards were still in the Bible."

He pulled away the ice trays and a half-gallon of rocky road until he found the small, square-shaped, red box. He opened it, and a silver ring inlaid with an emerald rolled out onto the floor. Schultz carefully pulled out Kristen's watch as Garcia studied the ring between his fingers.

"You go out to Metal Concepts," Schultz said. "I want him in custody now."

### Chapter Twenty-Two

After Sonya left, Piper counted the money left in her Chanel bag. Almost one hundred dollars, more than enough for a cab to Haven Rest.

The ride took only twenty minutes. The cab was allowed entrance through the gate. Piper paid the fare and walked up the steps of the sprawling brick building. The front door was locked.

She was hoping for no resistance, although Garcia could have told administration to keep Justine's friends away.

Piper watched a security guard come to the door. He used the speaker on his side. "Hello?"

"I'm here to visit a patient."

"The patient's name?"

"Justine Kent."

"I have to check. I'll be right back."

Piper knew visiting hours had not ended for the night. She and Bobby did not encounter a security guard during their last visit, and Piper had the feeling that something was going on.

The sun was setting, and Piper looked out at the front grounds, the leaves already mulched. She never heard of any kids trying to trespass into Haven Rest, the place spoken of with ridicule by most of the locals; Seymour's ghost roamed the halls and patients had been raped or given brutal electroshock treatments, the stories becoming urban legends.

The security guard returned to the speaker. "All right. But only for a few minutes."

The door unlocked with a buzzing sound and Piper stepped in. She turned to her right, and Nurse Lauren was almost limping on her tired feet down the hallway.

"Come with me," she said.

Piper caught up with her, following to the gray elevator.

Lauren pressed the button to the second floor. "She's been sleeping on and off for the last few days. She got into a fight."

Piper nodded, but stayed silent. Lauren took her to the visiting room, where she waited.

If Justine's medicated most of the time, what would make her want to fight? Piper thought. What would be in it for her?

Justine arrived minutes later. She sat down in the opposite chair, Lauren standing behind her, the glass separating both girls.

Piper did not miss Justine's black eye and split lip. Band-Aids were wrapped around a few fingers. She was wearing a red sweatsuit and paper slippers on her feet. Her dark hair was pulled away from her face in a ponytail.

"I look like shit, don't I?" she asked.

She smiled, and Piper was reminded of the old Justine, her first real kiss. "What was the fight about?"

"Some asshole orderly made a remark about my weight. I was on my period, in a bad mood, so I jumped him. He doesn't look good, either."

Piper looked past Justine to Lauren, whose expression remained neutral. If she wanted the answers she was looking for, she would have to be direct, not caring if Lauren knew everything. "Justine, you're clever, but not a genius. I know when you're hiding something..."

Justine rested her hands on the table. "Hiding what?"

"Who is he?"

Justine turned her wrists palms up, and raised her eyebrows.

Piper stayed patient. "The Ravisher. Your chameleon..."

"Why do you care? He would never touch you, Princess."

"A man has been taken in by the police. His name is Trey Winstead, but he's not the Ravisher—"

"The police will think differently. The Ravisher has abandoned his quest for now, but his greatest kill will be a blood-bath..."

Lauren was staring down at Justine with a frown, as if this subject was new to her.

"How has he been contacting you?" Piper asked.

She had broken a silent rule, and Justine's gaze became stony. "He speaks in my mind..."

Piper suppressed a smile. Justine had to keep up the pretense of being deluded; otherwise, her cover of teenaged schizophrenic would be blown. But Piper no longer cared about Justine's needs or wants. "Did Detective Garcia ask you about your father? When your mom was raped?"

"He's a cop. They always bring up the past."

"The Ravisher knew, didn't he?"

A flicker of sadness spread over Justine's face, the deep stare softening. "He told me. I wasn't surprised."

"Why did you do all of this?" Piper asked. "Was it to get back at your dad? I know you hate him, but why?"

Justine flipped her hands back down on the table, the fingers closing into fists. "I tried telling Garcia, but it's not something I like to talk about..."

"You don't know Trey Winstead, do you?"

"No. But the Ravisher does."

"Trey knows the Ravisher?"

"Yes. But Garcia and those other cow-brained cops won't figure it out." Justine sat back, putting her hands behind her head.

"Were your computer privileges taken away?" Piper asked.

"Yes. For awhile."

"Does Ariel know?"

"Ariel who?"

"I don't know her last name. She calls herself RomeoBoy on FriendsRing."

Justine's face split into a grin. She sat forward. "Where art thou, Romeo? Or is it Roe-may-o?"

"Ariel Romeo?"

"More like Brandon Romeo. Did you look under the skirt?"

Piper's mouth almost fell open. "Is Ariel the Ravisher?"

Justine shook her head. "No. But you're getting closer."

"Why should other girls get hurt, Justine? Tell me..."

"I'm surprised Brandon was able to keep it to himself for so long. We were all friends in here. The Ravisher is so clever, he knows how to hide, to cover himself. He leaves everything clean."

"You admired him?" Piper asked.

"Are you jealous?"

"No."

"He is a man to admire. He's brave enough to speak the truth. He told me who my father hired to rape my mother. He washed me clean. The Ravisher's quest is to purify the world in the blood of the virgin but to know her flesh at the same time..."

Piper rolled her eyes. "You must get so sick of this..."

Justine sighed and turned around. "What's for dinner, Lauren?"

The nurse pulled the keys from her belt. "Lasagne."

"My favorite."

*****

"Cal called me while you were gone," Aron said.

He and Sonya were in the truck, coming from Piper's house.

"What did he say?" Sonya asked.

Aron explained about Cal receiving Emily's earlobe in the mail and the Marine Press announcing the date on the Ravisher's note, October tenth.

"How does Cal and Garcia know for sure that the Ravisher is planning to attack a girl on October tenth?" she asked.

"What else could it be?"

"He could be bluffing just to get attention."

"The police don't want to take any chances. The tenth is a Friday, and I will be taking you to school and picking you up."

Sonya remained silent as she thought about Trey Winstead. The date did not have to be printed if the police thought they had the Ravisher, although Trey was not questioned before Cal received Emily's earlobe in the mail Saturday.

Does Garcia still have doubts? she thought. If he does, then all he can do is wait until Trey Winstead is ruled out.

Sonya and Aron noticed the old Chevy in the driveway before Aron turned in. He parked next to the car. When they shut the truck doors, Helga started barking from inside of the house.

Sonya followed her father inside. They found Ben Garcia sitting at Aron's chair, Bill in his recliner. Helga had assumed her place next to Bill, her head turned to one side, brown eyes on Garcia.

Bill introduced Garcia to Aron and Sonya. Garcia shook Aron's hand.

"I came by to take a look at Bill's knife," he said. "Cal gave me the serial number days ago, I just didn't have time to come by."

Aron retrieved the knife in its case from the endtable. "The receipt states that Bill sold it to Mike Winstead last spring."

"Where's the receipt, Bill?" Garcia asked.

"In the box."

Garcia flipped open the wide case, his eyes roving over the handle and clipped-point blade, the small piece of paper taped to the top. Garcia carefully pulled out the receipt, reading the neat script.

"Mike Winstead was here yesterday," Aron said. "He said he loaned Trey that knife. Bill only owned one like it, and we have no idea how or why it came back here."

"Do you mind if I take it?" Garcia asked.

"No. Please."

Garcia put the receipt back in, closing the case. "Trey Winstead confessed. We found evidence in his home. Mike told me about this knife, and he thought Bill would still have it around. Trey is being cooperative, but I have my doubts..."

"What proof did you find?" Sonya asked.

Aron turned around. "He can't tell you that—"

"It's all right, Mr. Neslund," Garcia said. "Captain Schultz, my superior, and I found Jessica Holden's ring and Kristen Beck's watch in the freezer at Trey Winstead's house."

"That's it?" Sonya asked.

Garcia shrugged, not put off by her tone. "It was enough to get him to sign a confession. His lawyer advised him against it, but he insisted. I'll take the knife to the crime lab but, even if Jess's or Kristen's DNA is found from a trace blood sample, it might not be enough to convict Trey. A confession isn't always enough, especially when Robin Jones is your lawyer."

"It wasn't Trey that found me in the woods," Bill said. "Mike was right, he wasn't with us that day."

Aron shared a look with Garcia, who grinned at Bill. "I'm sorry to bother you, Bill. Thanks for your time."

Bill nodded. "Okay."

"If you think of anything else, call me."

Aron followed Garcia through the kitchen and to the mud-room, close to the door. Aron kept his voice low. "Bill gets mixed up. The Alzheimer's..."

Garcia nodded. "Cal told me. But Bill seemed to know who I was when I arrived. I had been meaning to stop by sooner, but with arresting Trey, then Ernie Shafer's murder, I've been distracted."

"Sonya told me that she came home from school a few weeks ago and found the doors unlocked and the light on in Bill's closet," Aron said. "Bill and I had taken Helga to the vet's office. It's possible that we both forgot to lock up before leaving. It would seem like a perfect opportunity for someone to break in, but nothing was missing, and Sonya forgot about it until recently."

Sonya, who was standing by the refrigerator, placed the bottle of milk on the counter, to seem as if she was going to get a glass. Instead, she tried to listen in as she turned the cap on the jug.

"How would Trey have known that your dog had a vet's appointment on that particular day?" Garcia asked. "Did you tell anyone else?"

"No. Only Bill and I knew. I left Sonya a note at the counter to find when she came home from school."

"It's possible that whoever came into the house wanted to leave something, not steal."

"Could Winstead have been watching us? Waiting for a time to break in?"

"Maybe, but it would seem inconvenient for Winstead. He lives and works on the other side of town."

"Cal spoke to me about October tenth."

"The curfew will still be enforced. Cal agreed not to announce Trey Winstead's arrest until I tell him to."

"But you found proof in his house."

"If this knife could have been returned to your home unnoticed, then that ring and watch could also have been planted. Robin Jones could use that information in Trey's defense. I'm sure she is preparing for one of the biggest trials of her career."

"I'm sure Cal is excited, too."

"He's going to be very busy."

Aron and Garcia spoke for a few more minutes, with Garcia leaving his card before he walked out of the house.

Aron came back into the kitchen, but Sonya was gone, the milk back in the refrigerator. He turned the corner, Bill in his chair.

"You didn't ask him about Ernie, did you?" Bill asked.

Aron realized what Bill meant. They had been at Ernie's farm the day before his murder. "No. I don't think it matters."

"While Trey's locked up, the real nut-job is out there, getting ready to hurt another girl."

"If Trey didn't find you in the woods, who did?"

"He was wearing that green makeup. I knew him. Still do. How can you forget that curly hair? Hazel eyes, like his dad."

"You know his dad?"

Bill was resting his chin in his hand, staring at the TV screen. "Well, not anymore. He's dead. But Kyle is starting to look a lot like Wayne."

Aron sighed. "Kyle Stone found you in the woods?"

"Yeah. Nice kid."

### Chapter Twenty-Three

Sonya, in her room, spread all of the copied articles in front of her on the pink rug.

She was convinced that someone was watching the house on the day Bill and Aron took Helga to the vet.

But if Trey lives on the other side of town, she thought, why would he bother to come here to leave the knife?

The lack of convenience nagged at Sonya. The Ravisher would have to be closer than she thought, and the idea of him being in Bill's house frightened her.

She pulled out her list and studied the names and places she put down. Garcia had covered most of these, except for one:

The chameleon-male or female?

Sonya put a check next to the others, realizing that the only full name she added was Rick Chambers. Rick had spent a single week at Haven Rest, hardly enough time to get acquainted with Justine.

Sonya picked up Cal's articles about Philip Kent's trial. Sonya read through each one, stopping at a passage she had overlooked before, thinking that the time Jimmy was found was not important:

"...Hepler was unconscious when he was discovered behind the Marine Heights Blue Diamond club-house. The 9-1-1 dispatcher took the call at 2:17 a.m., the caller's voice sounded like that of a young boy..."

Why would a kid be hanging out at the club-house so late? Sonya thought.

She read through the other trial articles, but the boy was never mentioned again. If he had been found, he would possibly have been used as a witness at trial, but maybe he had fled after calling the dispatcher.

Sonya's cell phone started to ring. She retrieved it from the back pack on her bed. "Hello?"

"Are you watching the news?" Bobby asked.

"No. I'm upstairs."

"Remember that guy from Ashley's apartment. No nose, with a scar?"

"Yeah?"

"He's dead. The cops found his body in the Heights. Seems like open season on old Diamonds."

"I wonder who's next."

Sonya explained Garcia's visit and Trey's arrest. "Did you know that Piper's mom is his lawyer?"

"Oh, I can imagine Robin getting all ready for a big trial. She's always been ambitious."

"Garcia isn't so sure Trey is the Ravisher. If he can prove it, there won't be a trial."

"How can he?" Bobby asked.

"By focusing on someone else, someone closer to my house."

"Who could that be?"

"Someone who likes to hunt and has the same work schedule as Trey's, who also worked for Mr. Lister—"

"The handsome Kyle."

"Why do I feel sick?"

"You could be wrong, Sonya."

"His dad was a Diamond."

"So?"

"Your own brother said that the Diamonds know who the Ravisher is, and they know because he is a Diamond or a friend of the Diamonds."

"Maybe not."

"I also think that Ernie and Jimmy Hepler are dead because they knew something."

"Now you're being paranoid."

"I don't think so. Is it possible that all of these things–the girls found in the water, Angela Kent being kidnapped and raped, and the murders of Ernie and Jimmy–are connected somehow?"

"That's a wide area," Bobby said.

"But the Diamonds were involved in all of it."

"Ernie was Jimmy's supplier, so they probably knew each other from way back. They were both Diamonds and lived in Marine when the girls started disappearing, still around when Justine's mom was raped. But even if they were involved, who would want them dead now? Why? You said Ernie was almost crippled and Jimmy sold dime bags of weed when he wasn't hanging around the club-house. He was living with Ashley because he had no where else to go."

"Someone wanted to keep something buried, but it floated to the surface, Bobby."

"Now you sound like Justine." Sonya heard Bobby chewing something crunchy. "Princess said she was going to call you. She visited Justine at Haven Rest last night. She wouldn't tell me more until she told you."

"I'll call her."

"Okay. I've got plenty of homework. The doctor decided I need to keep the splints on my fingers for a few more weeks."

"Were you excused from gym class?"

"The only good thing. I suck at softball, anyway. Then it's volleyball. I hate volleyball."

"I guess Kelly has a mind of her own. She's trying out for girl's basketball without Piper."

"Wow. Send that news to the Blue and White. By the way, Sexy Rexy's girlfriend miscarried."

"Fortunate for the both of them."

"SkolClik's been laying off the freshmen, but he's just waiting to get news on the Ravisher."

"Any messages left by ghost94?" Sonya asked.

"Not lately, but there hasn't been a new victim." Bobby ate another potato chip, crunching for a few moments. "Hey, remember when you and Piper left Jess's house and Piper thought you both were being watched?"

"Yeah?"

"Maybe that same person was watching your house. He seemed to know when to attack Jess. Same with Kristen and Emily. He's a planner, right? If Trey Winstead isn't the Ravisher, then the Ravisher is going to bide his time, because he's enjoying watching the police screw up. And if the Diamonds decide to take care of him, then the police will never know, because the Ravisher, whoever he is, will just disappear. Like the girls in the lake."

*****

Sonya dialed Piper's cell number.

"Bobby told me you might call," Sonya said.

"I wanted to wait until I was alone," Piper said. "I almost stayed home from school today. I couldn't sleep last night."

"You were quiet all day."

"I couldn't even tell Bobby, I'm so embarrassed. I'm not speaking to Justine ever again."

"What happened?"

Piper explained her visit to Haven Rest and Ariel's true gender. "Ariel–or Brandon–was a patient at Haven Rest, and Justine put her up to meeting me. Like some kind of joke. She just wanted to mess with my head, I should have known better."

"I'm sorry, Piper."

"She knows the Ravisher."

"Did she give you any hints?"

"She said he washed her clean after he told her who raped her mother."

"How would he have known?"

"And who says he was telling her the truth?"

"You told me that Justine spends most of her time drugged and in her room. When would she be able to spend time with the other patients?" Sonya asked.

"She used to take art classes. Maybe she met Trey that way, although male and female patients are supervised when they're in the same areas."

"Was Ariel considered male or female at Haven Rest?"

"Female, I think, but the staff would have known the truth when she was admitted."

"She could have become closer to Justine that way. Who else does Justine talk to?"

"Lauren, the nurse. Maybe other people on the staff. I'm sure she has them all convinced."

"You don't think she's schizophrenic?"

"Not any more. Just evil."

Sonya explained about Emily's earlobe being sent to Cal and the October tenth date, along with her suspicions about Kyle.

"Do you think Garcia will try to keep Trey Winstead in jail until October tenth?" Piper asked.

"Maybe. But if the Ravisher is still out there, he might choose to stay home."

"You should tell Garcia about Kyle. I know you don't like it, but you could be right."

"I don't want to be right. Are you going to tell him about Ariel?"

"No. My mom doesn't know a thing so far, and I don't want to get pulled into any of this."

"Have you spoken to Ariel?" Sonya asked.

"I shouldn't. Are you going to tell your dad anything?"

"He has other things to worry about."

"He should know."

"Your mom should know."

"Quit it."

Sonya smiled. "Stay home at night until this is all over. That's what I'm doing."

"Mrs. Howard gave me enough History homework for two weeks."

"The Trojan War."

"Bobby says he's going to rent _300_ and _Troy_ again."

"You know why. And _300_ takes place during the Persian War."

"Tell Bobby that."

"I'm supposed to babysit at Barb's house Friday night."

"Tell her you're sick."

"If Kyle has to work, he won't stick around. The last time I was there, his door was locked."

"He has four little brothers. Maybe he likes his privacy."

"Right. It's probably nothing."

"Is that why you don't want to tell your dad?" Piper asked.

"What do you mean?"

"It's what I would do. And you're the snoop."

"Thanks."

"Just be careful. If those boys catch you snooping, they might tell their mother or Kyle."

"And they never go to bed on Fridays until after midnight."

"What do you want to look for?"

"The house only has one bathroom, and Barb still washes his laundry. If he hides anything, it would be in his room."

*****

Aron did not disagree about Sonya babysitting at Barb's house Friday night. He was going to work that evening at Harper's, but would be home by eleven to pick her up.

Sonya made the walk alone to Barb's house. She had spent days nervous, distracted at school, her suspicions about Kyle making her depressed, and she knew she would not feel better until she could eliminate Kyle from her mind as a suspect. Garcia was wrong in his doubts, she was convinced. Trey Winstead _must_ be the Ravisher.

The October tenth date appeared in the Marine Press yesterday, with no information about Trey's arrest. The Marine students on FriendsRing and the Blue and White were already making plans. Bobby was staying the night at Piper's house, and they had invited Sonya, but she declined, almost convinced nothing was going to happen that day.

Aron told her about Bill recalling that Kyle had found him in the woods when he became lost. Sonya did not know Kyle was a hunter, but was unsurprised. Men were mostly hunters in Marine.

She walked up the steps to Barb's back door and knocked. Barb appeared, wearing a white blouse and jeans, less makeup. "Come on in, Sonya. Thanks for coming over."

"Kyle told me that your friend is very sick."

"Donut's getting bad. I'm going up to the hospital, then I might stop by his house. I won't be out late." Barb grabbed her purse from the kitchen table. "The boys already had dinner and are doing their homework. Kyle had to go into work early."

"He's working a double shift?"

"Yes. He has to make up for Trey on the assembly line, but maybe his boss will call in a temp. Kyle doesn't like working there as it is, and Trey being gone might make him want to quit. He'll have to go back to mopping floors."

"I thought he had worked in construction," Sonya said.

Barb pushed her arms through the sleeves of her old leather jacket. "Before that, he worked at Subway, then Work Staffing sent him to Haven Rest to clean. Janitorial. He worked there the summer after graduation. He didn't like it. Creepy old place."

Sonya sat at a kitchen chair, keeping her voice calm. "Did Detective Garcia ever talk to Kyle?"

"Not yet. I won't be surprised to see him come around. After what happened to poor Ernie, everyone's cleaning house around here."

Sonya, her stomach starting to churn, was still sitting at the table when Barb went out the door.

One more piece, she thought. Kyle worked at Haven Rest while Justine, Ariel, and Trey were patients there.

Her mind wandered to Rick, when he told Bobby that the Blue Diamonds knew the identity of the Ravisher. Donut sent Toon from Florida. Toon and Jimmy Hepler were living with Ashley. Ernie was murdered, then Jimmy. Wayne Stone had lived and died a Blue Diamond. The girls' bodies found floating in the lake, not seen since the mid-1990s. Wayne died in 2001. That same year, Justine and her mother would be abducted, taken to the cabin in Lamont.

Sonya tried to work out a timeline in her head. The girls started to disappear around 1991, the same year Lily died. The Four Js were born in 1997. Wayne was dead four years later. By then, no more dead girls in the water.

She now understood why Garcia had his doubts about Trey. He was in no way connected to the Blue Diamonds, although Trey had once stayed at Haven Rest. Rick spent a week there. Kyle had no use for the Diamonds' lifestyle; he sold his father's remaining Harley, but he could have been at Haven Rest long enough to get acquainted with Justine. He was a temporary employee, not a patient, so Garcia would not have found him in the patients' records.

The Four Js were distracted by their homework, so Sonya knew it was the right time. She left the kitchen for the back hallway, walking through the living room.

She was surprised to see the door to Kyle's room unlocked and wide open.

She entered the small, neat bedroom. The bed was made, covered with a quilt. Red curtains and a white blind covered the window. A braided rug was laid on the creaking wooden floor. The walls were painted beige, posters of 1970s muscle cars on the walls, along with a blown-up photo of a buck, the impressive twelve-point rack on its head resembling gnarled tree twigs, its big brown eyes staring into the camera. She found the hunting rifle, a Winchester, that he bought from Bill, supported by pegs in the wall. A box of buckshot was on his dresser, along with a small glass bottle of doe urine and a small tube of green face paint. She stepped away, shaking her head.

None of this proves anything, she thought. Kyle is a nice guy. He never hurt a girl before. Just because he worked at Haven Rest means nothing.

She walked away, turning off the overhead light. As she pulled her fingers away from the wall switch, she thought of the knife being placed in Bill's closet. She had been here, talking to Barb in the kitchen, when Kyle had appeared, shirtless in jeans. Barb said he did not get out of bed until two-thirty in the afternoon. Sonya could not recall the time of Helga's appointment, only that Bill and Aron were gone with Helga by the time she returned to the house, finding the doors unlocked.

Sonya walked out, looking around the small living room, the washer and dryer against the wall, leading to the kitchen. She gazed at the locked front door in the living room. The Four Js would have been at school, and Barb worked days, but she was home before the boys and when Kyle got out of bed.

If he left the house, Sonya thought, Barb would have seen or heard him walk out.

The only other way was through a window. She returned to Kyle's room, but did not turn on the light. She pulled up the blind, and found no screen on the other side, the latch unlocked.

The Ravisher attacked Jess early in the morning, Kristen around ten at night, and Emily on a Saturday morning. Kristen was attacked on a Friday night. Kyle could have had that night off, but the attacks on Jess and Emily would have been easier to accomplish; Kyle would be off the clock at Metal Concepts, although his only vehicle was his Camaro or Barb's car. The Camaro's brakes were not repaired until after Jess and Kristen were attacked.

Jess lives close by, Sonya thought. He could have ran home after the attack—

She stopped herself for moment, putting the blind back in place, arranging the curtains. She left and walked to the living room couch, her arms wrapped around her chest.

Sonya could not ignore her suspicions, and she was almost convinced.

Garcia must know, she thought. I have to tell him, get Cal to help me.

She had tried swallowing back the lump in her throat as she thought about Kyle talking to her the other day, so shy and patient. He liked her, and Sonya had found so much to admire in him, making her summer-long crush seem like more. She tried to stop the tears, warm on her cheeks, but soon gave in to the sobs, trying to keep her heartbreak quiet.

### Chapter Twenty-Four

Barb returned home by ten o'clock, the boys already asleep. She was sober and alone, paying Sonya twelve dollars for the night.

Sonya called Aron twice, but he did not answer. Assuming that he must be working late at Harper's, Sonya decided to walk home.

Her mind was still on Kyle, although she had calmed down. In the morning, she would talk to Cal. She was happy to let the adults deal with the problem, she never wanted to get involved with another crime again.

The walk back to Bill's house was short, the porch light on. Sonya had forgotten to take her key, but the side door opened.

She thought that Bill would be asleep, but Helga did not greet her. She entered the kitchen, finding a yellow note on the counter:

"Sonya–

Went to find B. and H. When you get home, lock the door."

Bill had wandered off again, and he would be on foot with Helga.

Sonya tried Aron's cell again, but he had turned off his phone. Bill used to carry a phone, but it started to seem pointless to buy him another one he could lose.

If he's walking, Sonya thought, he hasn't gone far. Maybe up Farm Road. But Helga's afraid of traffic, she'll keep him away from harm.

Sonya locked the door and went upstairs to her room.

*****

Aron had returned from Harper's only to find Bill and Helga gone, the house unlocked.

He had reminded Bill several times that he would not be home until ten. He wrote it down on paper, putting the yellow note next to Bill's phone by his chair.

Aron was already berating himself. Bill could no longer be alone for hours at a time; their father had the same problem, and Britt had to lock him up in the house at night, hiding the keys.

Aron got back in the truck. He had turned off his cell phone while at work, forgetting to turn it on until he was far from the house, cruising slowly up Farm Road, which was well-lit at night. His eyes searched each side of the road, hoping for a glimpse of Bill and Helga.

*****

Piper stared at the e-mail on the screen, after having read the message several times:

"Piper–

I'm sure Justine hasn't told you everything. I'm willing to tell you more, if you will see me.

Ariel."

Piper debated responding to her. Ariel had lied from the beginning; she wasn't female, but male, a patient at Haven Rest, communicating with Justine.

Piper had thought about going to her mother and explaining everything. However, Robin had been very busy. Trey had confessed, but the media attention would come from all over the state, getting Robin more exposure as a lawyer than she had ever known.

Piper thought she could meet with Ariel in a public place. She could take a cab, and be home before her mother.

Piper sent an e-mail reply:

"I'll meet with you."

She picked up her phone and called Bobby.

He yawned before saying hello.

"Are you in bed?" Piper asked.

"I fell asleep on the couch."

"Ariel e-mailed me. She wants to tell me something Justine didn't—"

"Stay away from her, Princess. Even Sonya's getting nervous."

"I could tell, something was bothering her. But I don't think Ariel would harm me."

"Yes, trannies are known for being harmless."

"Don't be sarcastic. Wait! She's messaging me."

Piper clicked on the IM screen, Ariel greeting her.

"Ariel wants to see me tonight," Piper said.

"Tell her no."

"What if Justine has Ariel wrapped around her finger, just like she did to me?"

"Ariel could be another Justine. Besides, who cares? Just stay home."

"She needs to know that Justine is a fake."

"I'll bet she already knows."

"I'll talk to her this last time. Somewhere safe."

"Like...where?"

"Coffee Hut is open twenty-four hours a day. Enough people go in and out of the place."

"How are you going to get there?"

"A cab."

"I can't stop you, Princess, but be careful. If it gets weird, call me."

After Bobby hung up, Piper typed in her response:

"Meet you at Coffee Hut in a half-hour."

*****

Bill and Helga were picked up by an elderly woman who felt sorry for the man and his dog wandering the roads so late.

"Where can I take you?" she asked.

Bill, in his pajamas, Helga in the backseat of the Buick, seemed intent, his expression serious. "The Heights. I need to talk to T. at the club-house."

"Who's T.?" she asked.

Bill looked closely at the woman, who had to be almost eighty; thin, wrinkled skin covered in age spots, brown eyes bright. Her thin frame was wrapped in a peacoat, a knitted cap on her head.

"T.'s a guy I know," Bill said.

"The Heights is dangerous at night. I don't drive through there, but I can drop you off on Jefferson."

"Okay. That's fine."

The woman continued to study Bill while driving. She noticed his pajamas and how he kept looking to the backseat, as if to make sure the dog was still there. A small gob of drool hung from Helga's upper lip, but her gaze did not waver from Bill.

The woman did not recognize dementia in Bill; he seemed too young, his blue eyes clear and smile friendly. She had assumed his car broke down or he was homeless.

"Do you have a lot of friends at this club-house?" she asked.

Bill smiled. "Just a few. Everyone knows a Diamond in this town."

She gripped the steering wheel tight, but stayed calm. "You mean, the Blue Diamonds?"

"Yeah. But you can drop me at Jefferson. I can walk."

"I can take you somewhere else. Do you have family nearby?"

"My wife's at work, and my brother is probably in bed asleep. He and his wife are teachers. I work at the mill. Maintenance."

The woman continued to drive, fifteen minutes from Jefferson. She slowly took her left hand from the wheel, reaching for her cell phone in her coat pocket. "It's a long walk from Jefferson to the Diamond club-house. Why don't I take you all the way?" She felt the phone in her hand. "What is your name?"

"I'm Bill. This is Helga."

"Hi, Bill. I'm Dorothy."

*****

Piper, before leaving her house, searched the kitchen. In the junk drawer, she found her mother's old can of pepper spray, part of a key chain still attached. Robin had bought the small, slim can after her car was broken into at a parking garage in Falls River.

Piper slipped the spray into the back pocket of her jeans. She put on her short leather jacket, her wallet, cell phone and house keys inside. She noticed the night had become chilly, but she had decided to wait at the end of her driveway for the cab, which would take fifteen minutes to get to her house.

She did not take a flashlight, but the front porch light was bright enough to guide her steps.

The curfew had yet to be enforced, but Piper did not intend to stay out for long. Robin would be home by midnight, expecting Piper to be in bed asleep. Piper had no intention of having to explain her actions to her mother, so she was not going to linger for long with Ariel at the Coffee Hut.

*****

Bobby tried calling Piper again, but she had turned off her phone, meaning she had made up her mind.

Bobby had stored his scooter, almost out of gas, back in his room. If he got it started, he could meet with Piper at the Coffee Hut, but he doubted he could get the scooter that far.

His mother left some money in the cookie jar she kept in the kitchen cupboard for emergencies. Rick did not even know about the cookie jar stash.

Bobby, since his last conversation with Piper, could not shake the anxiety he was feeling.

She's making a mistake, he thought. She can't trust Ariel anymore than Justine. They're all psychos, and Princess doesn't understand that there are some people who are just bad.

Bobby searched the cookie jar, finding three twenty-dollar bills. He took one twenty, plenty for gas.

He took off his pajamas and dressed again in his jeans and T-shirt with the saddle shoes he found at GoodWill. Then he pushed his scooter out of the apartment, getting it down the stairs to the parking lot, taking another ten minutes. He turned the key in the ignition, the engine starting easily. He put on his helmet, hoping he had enough fuel to get to the gas station.

*****

Aron drove up and down Farm Road, spending almost a half-hour searching for Bill. He knew he could search longer, but he was tired and Sonya was alone. He decided to return to the house to check up on Sonya before going back out.

Bill might get tired and turn around, he thought. I can only hope.

He was close to the house when he checked the messages on his cell. Sonya called twice.

Aron pulled into the driveway and parked at the garage. The porch light was still on. He shut the driver's side door and was approaching the steps when he heard someone behind him. Before he could completely turn around, the first hard blow from the shovel made him stagger. The second struck him in the face, making him fall backwards.

The third, to the side of his head, knocked him out. His attacker threw the shovel to the side and turned on his flashlight, heading for the backyard beyond the fence.

*****

"Thanks for the ride," Bill said.

Dorothy had parked at the club-house. The long line of motorcycles in the lot could not be missed. "Are you sure you have friends here?"

"Yeah." Bill got out of the car, opening the back door. "Come on, Helga."

The Boxer stared at Dorothy, her tail wagging slowly, as if she knew Bill was looking for trouble. However, she obeyed, her big paws landing on the cracked pavement next to him.

Dorothy got out of her car, coming over to his side. "I can call your wife—"

Bill's eyes widened. "Sue? I haven't spoke to her in years."

Dorothy shook her head. "You said she was at work."

He shrugged. "Probably."

"Bill?"

Dorothy turned around to see a young man in leather, long brown hair past his waist. "You know him?"

Shawn nodded and smiled, trying to put the old woman at ease. "What brings you here, Bill?"

"I wanted to talk to T. About Ernie."

"T.'s in Florida. He had a stroke."

"Oh. That's a shame."

Dorothy turned to Shawn. "Do you know where he lives?"

"I live at 803 South Garland Road, ma'am," Bill said.

"Yes, he does," Shawn said. "It's okay. I can take him home."

"All right," Dorothy said. "But maybe the police—"

"He's safe with me."

She backed down. "Okay..."

"I'm going out that way. He'll be fine."

Dorothy knew enough about the Blue Diamonds to be afraid of them, but the guy seemed nice, in spite of the long hair and biker gear. "I think he's confused..."

"Bill gets a little confused sometimes, but I'm sure his brother is out looking for him." Shawn continued to smile. "Come on, Bill. You and your dog can get in my truck."

The front door to the club-house opened, loud music and voices floating outside. Shawn took in tall, skinny Toon and Donut's son, Waylon.

Bill sighed. "T. would listen to me. I don't know those other guys..."

"You can tell me," Shawn said. "Maybe I can help."

*****

Sonya tried calling Cal, but his phone was off.

She left a message:

"Cal, I found out that my neighbor, Kyle Stone, used to work at Haven Rest when Trey Winstead was a patient there. I think Kyle also knew Justine Kent. Please call me back."

She hung up, not hearing Aron come home. She felt tired, but would not be able to go to sleep until Aron returned with Bill.

She returned downstairs to the kitchen, taking a can of Dr. Pepper from the refrigerator. She turned the corner while looking out at the back yard through the sliding glass doors. She saw a flash of light between the trees.

Is Bill out there? she thought. Did he find his way back?

She used the phone by Bill's chair, calling Aron's number, but no answer. She turned on the outside light to the back deck, but another light was moving around in the distance, as if from a flashlight.

Sonya opened the sliding door. "Uncle Bill!"

He did not answer. Sonya reached for her fleece hoodie. She did not see the harm in walking to the end of the fence.

*****

Piper only started to have second thoughts after she had time to think about Ariel's possible motives.

A transvestite, she thought. Why did she lie to me? I don't think she'd harm me, but I can't afford to get pulled into the same trouble I had with Justine.

She paced the driveway for several minutes, knowing Justine would never fool her again, but Ariel might not be so wise.

I feel sorry for her, she thought. But how can I protect myself if I keep getting tangled up with Justine? It was her idea to have Ariel contact me, and I can't keep falling for it. Ariel may know something about the Ravisher, but the only way she would tell me is if I give her something in return.

She turned around and headed for her house. Her steps were not fast. She swatted at a mosquito that buzzed around her head. She cut across the front lawn, up the steps. The front porch was lit, and she fished for the keys in her jacket pocket.

She heard footsteps to her side, the porch creaking. She looked to her right, taking in the small figure in black, wearing a ski mask, running towards her. She froze, too surprised to move at first. When Piper finally turned to run, her pursuer almost knocked her over. Piper managed to run down the steps before dropping her keys.

She reached for the pepper spray in her back pocket, but her attacker grabbed her arm, slowing her down. Piper recognized the brand of perfume; her attacker was female, breathing hard through the ski mask. This person was not the Ravisher, and Piper realized she could have a chance.

Piper pushed her weight towards her attacker, who grabbed Piper by the hair with the other hand, pulling her backwards. Piper kicked out her right leg, but she only lost her balance again, the both of them falling to the ground.

The girl, now on top of Piper, used her one hand to pull a weapon from her jacket pocket. Both of Piper's hands were free, and she reached for the girl's head, but she already knew who was behind the ski mask.

She pulled at the mask as the girl wielded a large rock in her right hand. Piper did not let go as the rock struck her in the nose and cheek. Piper tasted blood before Ariel's face was revealed to her, short dark hair released under the mask, with no makeup or jewelry.

Ariel kept her weight on Piper, the rock folded tightly into her fist. She hit Piper hard in the eye, then the other cheek, opening the skin. Piper's hands were still free, but she could not roll over enough to reach for her pepper spray.

She decided to give up.

"Ariel, stop! What do you want?"

The girl stopped hitting her, panting hard. "Justine made a deal with me."

Blood had filled Piper's mouth, but she kept talking. "You were friends with her at Haven Rest..."

"I loved Justine."

"She's a fake."

Ariel laughed. She dropped the rock, her fingers bloody. "Justine is a fake in more ways than one." She stayed on Piper, but her fingers moved to the the zipper on her jeans. "There was one thing Justine couldn't get from girls that she could get from me..."

Ariel unzipped her pants and scooted up Piper's torso, her hands searching through Piper's leather jacket.

"Justine didn't ask me to do this to you," Ariel said, "but she always enjoyed it..."

Ariel once again grabbed Piper by the hair. A finger rubbed against Piper's bloody lips, smearing the blood over her cheeks, making the cut throb.

Piper, trying to keep herself from panicking, pushed her hands against Ariel's chest, then started bucking with her legs.

Ariel wanted to move up more, closer to Piper's face. When she rose for a moment, Piper was able to turn over, throwing them both to the side. She reached for her pepper spray, which slipped from her sweaty hand.

Piper was disoriented from the beating on her face, but she tried to get up. Ariel tackled her from behind, making her fall forward.

She tried to wiggle away as Ariel grabbed at the sleeves of Piper's jacket, pulling it off. Then the girl grabbed at the waist of Piper's jeans, but she was wearing a belt.

The pepper spray was only inches from Piper's reach. Ariel was now on her back. Piper felt the cool metal can in her hand, gripping it tightly as she let Ariel turn her around.

### Chapter Twenty-Five

Bill was in Shawn's truck, Helga between them in the cab. Shawn was driving down Jefferson, going east.

"Garcia must be looking into what happened to those girls again," Bill said. "Cal, too."

"What girls?" Shawn asked.

"In the lake. Years ago."

"Do you know something, Bill?"

Shawn tried to sound casual, his eyes on the road, Helga's breath almost on his cheek.

Bill shrugged. "Everybody had their theories..."

"How did you know T.?" Shawn asked.

"His son Louie was one of Carolyn's students. He used to give her a hard time in her classroom. She threatened to flunk him because he wouldn't do his homework, and he started to harrass her away from school. His mother couldn't get through to him, but he worshipped his father, so Carolyn decided to go alone to the club-house and talk to T. directly. Aron told her not to, he thought it was unsafe, but Carolyn knew the police weren't going to do a thing. She talked me into going with her." Bill chuckled. "We go in there, with all of these bikers and their old ladies starring at us, but T. agreed to talk to us in a back room. It was awkward, but the harrassment stopped. Louie dropped out, anyway."

"And you thought T. would listen to you now?"

"He was a reasonable man."

"T. had three sons. Two are dead, including Louie. The other one is in prison."

"They know who is cutting up those girls."

"What about the girls in the lake?"

"Both. Why can't they leave the girls alone?"

"They're easy victims."

"Just like old people and animals. How do I know you?"

Shawn thought about telling Bill the truth, but he was not sure if Bill could keep it to himself, possibly letting it slip in a confused moment around other people. Shawn had spent the last two years with the Diamonds, building a careful undercover identity that helped him gain the trust of the older and younger brothers alike. "I know your neighbor, Barb Stone. I've seen you around."

Bill nodded. "Barb's a good girl, but Wayne kept a lot from her. It was no accident, someone wanted Wayne dead."

Shawn knew all about Wayne Stone's death on an icy road. "Who?"

"Someone who had a daughter or a sister fished out of the lake."

*****

Sonya walked across the yard in the dark. The beam of light was gone, but she could see where it had come from, between the trees.

"Uncle Bill!"

A breeze rustled the leaves around her feet.

Sonya was standing at the gate that separated the backyard from the trees and overgrowth. She caught a flash of light as she turned her head. She opened the gate.

"Uncle Bill! Are you out there?"

She stepped into the weeds, knowing she could trip in the dark. She had not planned to go any farther; if Bill could hear her, that should be enough.

Sonya called for him again, but decided not to go into the woods, preferring to cut behind the garage. She turned around, leaving the gate open. As she neared the garage, she saw Bill's truck. She looked to the house, assuming Aron must have gone inside.

She started towards the back deck when she saw the light flash again, from the corner of her eye. She shook her head; Aron could go out there.

Sonya returned to the gate and shut it, the metal hinges squeaking. She was almost back to the house when she heard the hinges squeak again.

She did not turn around, already feeling someone behind her.

Sonya started to run, the deck a few yards away.

*****

Piper swung her arm, the pepper spray splashing in an arc.

The spray did not make it into Ariel's eyes, but some landed on her cheek, the skin burning. Piper kept her finger on the button, Ariel rolling off her.

Piper, disoriented and her head bleeding, staggered as she tried to push herself up. Her legs wobbled, but she did not let go of the can.

The sound of Bobby's scooter went unnoticed as Ariel came at Piper, knocking her down, Piper's face landing in the grass.

Bobby cruised the scooter up the driveway, trying to take in what he was seeing on the lawn. He threw his helmet to the ground.

Piper had turned to her side, seeing Bobby running towards her and Ariel. She remained silent as Bobby landed a kick in Ariel's hip, throwing her off Piper, then lunging towards her.

Piper watched as Ariel kicked Bobby between the legs, but Bobby ignored the pain, coming forward again and grabbing Ariel by the shoulder, head-butting her in the nose.

Ariel turned and ran, Bobby following her. Piper rose from the ground, her cell phone in her jacket, which was laying in the middle of the driveway, where Ariel was headed.

Bobby, the pain throbbing between his legs, did not slow down, his hand just inches from Ariel's back.

The yellow taxi cab was speeding as it turned the corner on Piper's street, going about fifty miles per hour. Ariel kept running, chest heaving. Bobby decided to stop, knowing he could run after her all night, but he would not be able to stop her on his own. He was reaching for his cell phone as he watched Ariel dart out to cross the street.

Bobby saw the taxi appear, but thought the car would stop. Instead, the brakes squealed, the front bumper slamming into Ariel, who was lifted and knocked against the windshield. She slid against the hood and on to the pavement, unconscious.

The taxi driver got out of his car, and Bobby ran to the scene. The driver asked him if he knew the girl, but Bobby said no. As the taxi driver called for the ambulance, his jacket covering Ariel, Piper caught up with Bobby. The driver did not miss her battered face and neither would the paramedics. When Piper saw Ariel, the headlights on her still form, she burst into tears. Bobby put his arms around her, holding her as she cried, her nose and mouth bleeding into his shirt.

*****

Sonya fell face-first into the top step of the wooden deck. She was still in shock as she was turned around, looking into the masked face of the Ravisher.

A very long blade with a tapered point appeared in his right hand.

Sonya, unlike Piper, screamed; a high-pitched squeal that she hoped her father would hear.

A gloved hand covered her mouth, keeping her head still. She tried to wiggle away, her back caught between the first and second step, both of her legs caught between his.

Her hand, reaching out for anything, bumped against the bottom wheels on Bill's old charcoal grill, which he had not put away for the winter. Four wobbly metal legs on wheels supported the top part of the grill, filled with used charcoal briquets.

Sonya stretched just a little farther, reaching for the leg. Her mouth was still covered, the blade flashing above her eyes. She gripped the cool black metal and pulled as hard as she could.

Bill had locked the grill, so the charcoal did not escape, the weight toppling to the side, landing on the Ravisher's back, who pushed himself off Sonya, the heavy grill falling from him to the deck. As he moved, he kept the knife in his hand, but Sonya had enough room to get out from under him. She rolled away, then tried to stand up before he could come at her again.

He watched Sonya get her footing, then run to the other end of the deck. She jumped over the hand rail, one leg after the other. She landed on the grass, but the fence was too high, she would need to reach one of the gates, which meant trying to get around him. The Ravisher did not move, waiting for her to decide.

Sonya took a deep breath, running as far from the deck as she could, hoping to make it to the gate by the garage. She was only a few steps away when the Ravisher lunged at her, and she dropped to her knees in the grass. He was now close enough with his knife to cut her, but she stood up and faced him.

"Stop it, Kyle!"

He stepped back.

Sonya gulped, but her voice was raspy from fear. "You're as crazy as Justine Kent, and she knew all along! Your father was the one who found Jimmy Hepler at the club-house, when Philip Kent cut off his nose. He made you call 9-1-1 because he didn't want the police knowing he was there. He didn't want to be seen with Jimmy, because they both raped Justine's mother—"

The Ravisher stepped towards her, but she managed to step away until she was against the gate.

"Did he kill those girls?" Sonya asked. "The ones fished out of the water? Come on, Kyle, they all knew, including Jimmy and Ernie. They protected him, because they felt sorry for Barb after Lily died. And how did she die, Kyle? How easy is it for a grown man to kill a baby in her crib?"

She could have reached for the gate's metal latch, but she wanted–needed–to know the truth. She did not move, even when the blade pressed under her chin.

The Ravisher raised his left hand. For a moment, she thought he might strike her, but he passed her face and gripped at the ski mask. The thick curly hair and hazel eyes were revealed in the porch light.

"Every man should have a quest." Kyle said. "I didn't find it mopping floors, flipping burgers, or cutting sheet metal. My destiny was to conquer, dominate, hunt for greatness. To make the world bleed, to cry my name..."

Sonya gulped, her throat dry. "A warrior, Kyle?"

"A god. My father only killed because he was bored or high. He had no purpose. I'm all about purpose."

Sonya reached over for the latch to her left, knowing the metal would not lift quietly. "Kyle, you have to stop. You'll go to prison..."

"Sonya, you're my last. I promise. My quest ends tonight."

She understood before the latch lifted. Sonya's hand was still there, but she never raised her arm, the metal moving under her fingers. Kyle moved the blade down her chin, to her throat. She felt the tip push into her skin.

The gate opened behind her, and she almost fell backward. She was distanced from the knife, the grip on her arm pulling her away, and she stumbled in the dark between the garage and the house.

Aron was holding on to the gate, shutting it against Kyle.

Aron spit out a gob of blood. "Run, Sonya!"

She obeyed, although her legs were numb. She was running slow, and the blaring of a horn did not immediately make her stop. Finally, the glare from a pair of headlights shocked her into place.

Bill, Helga, and Shawn emerged from the truck. Sonya reached for Bill, who held her as Shawn ran to the back yard, Helga barking.

Shawn kept a gun in a holster under his leather vest, but he did not reach for it right away.

He found them just as Aron grabbed Kyle by the ankles from behind, knocking him down. Shawn did not miss the nasty blade in his hand.

Aron was weak from the blows to his head. He had only been swimming back to consciousness when he heard Sonya scream. Blood was flowing from his scalp and forehead, his shirt and tie bloody, but he had managed to get off the ground to open the gate, saving Sonya's life.

Kyle, however, was younger and stronger. Aron was becoming too dizzy to maintain his grip, and passed out. Kyle did not look up at Shawn as he raised the knife and lunged forward, ready to stab Aron in the back.

A shot rang out, and the bullet that hit Kyle in the gut pushed him backwards. Shawn, behind the gate, could hear Sonya scream over Helga's hysterical barking next to him. He lowered the smoking pistol and turned around, Bill and Sonya bumping into him to get to Aron.

Shawn put the gun back in his holster. Kyle was laying still on the ground. Sonya sobbed, wiping the tears from her cheeks with her hands, as Bill rubbed his brother's back, Helga sniffing at Aron's head.

"Can I get in the house?" Shawn asked.

Sonya nodded. "The back door... is unlocked. A phone is in the living room."

Shawn headed towards the deck. Behind him, he heard Sonya starting to screech. When he turned around, he saw her kicking Kyle in the head. "I hope you're dead, you sick piece of shit!"

She kept kicking and cursing, but none of the men stopped her.

### Chapter Twenty-Six

From The Blue And White–

Drag Match

"Bobby Chambers is a dangerous weapon underneath his colorful clothes. When he is not holding Wiper Bones's purse, he is saving her life. Her attacker may not have been the Ravisher(see post below), but this little psycho was definitely a close second. After they scooped her off the road, they found out 'she' was a 'he'; Brandon Romeo, son of Frank Romeo, former Blue Diamond and owner of the Dive. I have been to the Dive, heard Second Skin play, and never knew the drummer was really a guy, or the owner's daughter, for that matter. Seems Ariel–or Brandon–had known Kyle Stone for years, ever since Kyle mopped floors at Haven Rest. They later became buddies with Lucifer herself, Justine Kent. Ariel was sent to rough up Wiper to scare her off Kyle's trail, but Bobby showed up to gay fight. Wish I had been there to see all of the hair pulling and slapping, but I guess Ariel was more of a lover than a fighter, because she ended up getting hit by a taxi. The Romeos had no idea that Ariel had been in contact with Kyle Stone, and have refused to comment. Ariel died of internal injuries, and Wiper Bones's mom, the lawyer, won't allow Wiper to talk about it publically, but she's been telling everyone at school what a hero Bobby is, and he is red-faced, although he doesn't seem to be getting sick of the attention.

Two psychos off the street. The curfew is over, and we can all thank the Woodpecker. Especially Trey Winstead, who is now a free man."

"Freshman Detective Nabs The Ravisher

Last night, the Ravisher tried to cut up the wrong girl, and now he's done. The Woodpecker herself, Sonya Neslund, was screaming through her back yard, being chased by a neighbor, Kyle Stone, who more or less confessed to her that he is the Ravisher. He not only tried to cut her throat, but also beat her dad in the head with a shovel. Somehow, the police showed up and Kyle had taken a bullet. He is at Marine General Hospital, heavily guarded. He will be taken to jail as soon as he recovers. Rumor has it he is paralyzed.

The attacks on the Woodpecker and Wiper Bones both happened almost at the same time, which tells me that Kyle Stone and Ariel 'Brandon' Romeo were planning the whole thing. Justine Kent is stuck within the walls of Haven Rest, so she can only do so much. She wasn't in charge. Kyle was raised inside the Blue Diamonds, but those guys aren't saying a word. The club-house has been empty and locked up for days. They may have all went to Florida for the winter, but I think they cleared out over the new interest in the girls found in the lake fifteen years ago. If a Blue Diamond killed those girls, we'll never know.

Sonya Neslund returned to school today and ate her lunch with Bobby and Piper. Even a few seniors came to their table, including quarterback Dane Lock and his girlfriend Kaitlyn Warden. Kristen Beck chatted with Sonya in the hallway. Speaking of the hallway, Jessica Holden was found on the floor near Mr. Yates's classroom. An ambulance was called, but she's home now..."

*****

Sonya returned to school two days later, the cut on her face covered with a thin bandage.

The day was lively, but she let Piper and Bobby do most of the talking at lunch. When Dane and Kaitlyn came to her table, Kaitlyn lingered for a few minutes after Dane wandered off.

"Grandma Sue and Mom wanted to know how you were doing," she said.

"I'm fine. Dad's getting out of the hospital today. He had a concussion, and they wanted to watch him for a few days."

"Who's watching Bill?"

"Dorothy."

"Who?"

"Uncle Bill's new friend."

"Oh. I heard the news crews were out at your house."

Sonya nodded. "And at Kyle's house, but his mom took his brothers and left. I feel bad for Barb, she's a nice woman. She didn't know a thing."

"What about the other guy?"

"Trey is free. He moved back in with his dad."

Piper, her face still black and blue, a bandage covering the cut on her cheek, had moved over to the table with her other friends, but Bobby sat across from Sonya, taking in all of the attention, wearing the same red and blue Culture Club T-shirt he wore on the first day of school, with his blue beret tilted to one side, blond bangs peeping out underneath.

Kaitlyn glanced at her friends across the room. "You were very brave, Sonya. So were those other girls."

"Like Kristen?"

"Kristen can't stand Dane, and it's mutual. It's like I had to choose between them." Dane turned towards the others, waiting for her. "I gotta go. Tell Grandpa Bill and Uncle Aron I said hello."

Sonya nodded. "Okay."

Kaitlyn joined her friends, and the senior crowd thinned out before the bell rang, but one girl remained. She had straight black hair under a cranberry crocheted cap. Her brown eyes were slanted behind black-rimmed glasses. She wore a black vinyl jacket over a white blouse and tartan skirt with black leggings. She looked at Sonya for a moment, then she turned and walked away.

"Piper? What are you going to buy Bobby?" Everett Lock asked, ever the smooth-talking diplomat. "He did save your life, after all."

Bobby opened his mouth, ready to put Dane's little brother in his place, when Piper replied, "Bobby's my best friend. Friends like Bobby and Sonya can't be bought."

The bell rang and Piper broke away from the group, taking Bobby and Sonya by the hands. "Let SkolClik see _this_."

*****

Sonya took the bus home, relieved that her neighborhood had calmed down, with no more news trucks or curious strangers driving past Bill's house.

Garcia had been to the hospital, thoroughly questioning Sonya, Bill, and Aron. He and Cal dealt with the public interest by supplying as much information as possible, Cal writing late into the night, surprised by the national news appearing in Marine. Garcia could not be accused of incompetence, although he was apologetic about not taking Kyle Stone in for questioning sooner, overlooking Kyle because he had no criminal record or a history of mental illness. Garcia had felt he was gripping at straws from the beginning, but Trey Winstead had brought him closer to the Ravisher, and the connected attack on Piper Jones tied up any loose ends.

Sonya got out at her stop, the Four Js no longer passing her on their bikes. Joe, Jack, Josh, and Jay were gone, Barb moving out late one night, before the news trucks went away.

Barb had assumed that Kyle was at work the night he attacked Sonya. She was home with her boys when Garcia came knocking, explaining that Kyle had been shot, taken to Marine General. Shawn had left the scene before the police arrived, trying to keep his cover intact, although he had been seen leaving the club-house with Bill. Shawn could only hope that the other Diamonds, including Waylon and Toon, did not ask him any questions. He had spent too much time trying to learn more about the Diamonds' operation in New Mexico, of heroin being smuggled across the border, to blow it all now because he tried to save one life.

Sonya walked into the house. She was greeted by Helga at the door, Dorothy and Bill ready to leave for the hospital.

*****

Aron, already dressed, was sitting on his bed when Sonya, Bill, and Dorothy entered.

"You Neslund boys are so handsome!" Dorothy said. "I'm surprised neither one of you is married."

Aron held on to her hand after shaking it. "Thank you for helping us during this time. You've been very kind."

The elderly woman, her wispy hair pulled away from her wrinkled face, gave Aron a shy smile. "I don't mind. I'm not working right now."

"Neither am I."

Sonya, standing close by the bed, had become nervous as soon as two police officers joined her, Bill, and Dorothy on the elevator, making their way to Intensive Care. She knew they were watching Kyle, who was still recovering from surgery. The elevator passed the floor to the oncology wing, where her mother died last spring. Sonya was thoroughly sick of hospitals and illness.

"One of the nurses told me that Kyle is paralyzed," Aron said. "The bullet went right into his spine. He'll be in a wheelchair in prison."

"I guess you were lucky when that cop showed up," Dorothy said.

"A cop?" Bill asked.

Aron shook his head. "I passed out..."

"I just assumed that someone had called the police," Dorothy said.

"Barb's boyfriend Shawn shot Kyle," Sonya said. "He took off in his truck before the ambulance got there. I didn't notice until later. He hasn't been found. I think he left town."

"Was he the guy that took you home, Bill?"

Bill nodded. "Shawn's dad was Duke Kallis. He used to be a cop, then a security guard at the mill for years. He used to bring Shawn with him sometimes after his wife died. Shawn remembered me, but I couldn't remember him at first. I wonder how he ended up with the Diamonds. He never seemed like the type."

"His father was a cop?" Aron asked.

"Yeah. Duke was shot during a drug bust in the Heights. He couldn't be a cop anymore, so he worked security."

Aron reached for the overnight bag on the bed next to him. "I'm not waiting on that wheelchair. Let's go."

*****

Bill went outside to rake leaves, Helga accompanying him in the backyard. Sonya sat at the kitchen table, her homework spread out, Aron sitting across from her with a cup of coffee.

"I'm glad to hear that Piper and Bobby are all right," he said. "Those two shouldn't have been running around so late—"

"Their moms feel the same way," Sonya said. "Robin comes home before six every night now, and I think Piper likes it, even if she won't say so. Bobby put his scooter away."

Sonya had been too distracted over the last few days to check her mail, and her gaze froze on the e-mail from 'Kyle', the subject 'quest.' Sonya checked the time the e-mail was sent, just minutes before she arrived home from Barb's house.

She clicked on the message. "Dad? Come here and read this with me..."

Aron rose from his chair, crouching behind her.

"Dear Sonya

My quest is ending. I will wear your flesh like a mask, seeing the world through your eyes, the eyes of a little girl who never knew evil, who went into Heaven as blind as a baby. Every girl my dad tossed into the water, their bodies used by Jimmy, were no different. My dad took me out to the river one night, after Lily died, and he told me he smothered her with a pillow. Dad expected me to keep his secret. If I told my mom, he would kill me. He showed me a dead body, and I never said a word, not until I met Justine and Ariel at Haven Rest, ever the good son.

I plan to wear your face tonight, when my mom and brothers will know the real me. Jessica, Kristen, and Emily—I could touch all of their faces, but only choose a few, but then I realized it wasn't enough. Ariel understood, wanting to be female. Justine, so caught up in her own delusions, couldn't be trusted for long. But I have focus; I can go into the skin, capturing life, feeling the soul. My dad was only a pillager, but I am a savior. Where you are, Sonya, I know you understand."

Aron put his hand on Sonya's shoulder. "He never would have got that far. You fought him—"

"I was just lucky, Dad. Aunt Sue is right, I'm only lucky."

"You're brave, too. And smart." Aron reached over, closing the computer. "We can give this message to Garcia, more proof to put Kyle away forever."

"If you hadn't been there—"

"Thank Shawn—"

"I'm thanking _you_ , Dad." Sonya's voice broke, tears in her eyes. "Let me thank you."

Aron smiled, feeling his own eyes grow moist. "You're welcome, Sonya."

### THE END

###

**About the author** :

Laura A. Ellison was born in Muskegon, Michigan in 1972, the youngest of four children. She attended Grand Valley State University, where she majored in English. She is also the author of _Karma House_. She still lives in Muskegon. You can connect with Laura online at Facebook or Twitter.

