Nice Girls(43)

It was clear that Olivia’s nude photo was evidence, but no one knew what it meant. The photo could have implied anything—that she’d been kidnapped, trafficked. The photo could have been a sick prank. It might have been fake. And it said nothing about whether she was dead or alive.

But I couldn’t forget the expression on Olivia’s face—seduction. She’d taken the nude photo for her personal use. She hadn’t been coerced into it. The photo was meant for a boyfriend or a hookup.

Like Kevin.

While most of the crowd was dispersing, a few stragglers stayed behind. They were clustered around Officer Kevin Obermueller, bombarding him with questions. Kevin looked sickly pale, his eyes darting from one face to another.

“Will we be prosecuted if we received the photo?” asked a man. “I never asked for this.”

“No one is getting charged for the photo if they received it,” Kevin said quickly to the crowd. “If you want to file a report, there are other officers here who can assist you.”

“I want this lewd picture off my phone now,” said a blocky man, one reassuring hand on his wife’s back.

“Believe me, I wish no one had seen the picture, either,” said Kevin. He looked like he was on the verge of fainting. “This is the last thing any of us wants.”

“I agree,” said the man’s wife. “This kind of thing is disgusting.”

“It’s a stupid stunt. That’s what’s happening here,” said her husband.

There were other voices who now joined in, asking about the state of Olivia’s case and whether their private information had been hacked. Kevin kept shaking his head at each question and comment that pelted him. He didn’t know what to do.

Then he caught my eye. Kevin shook his head firmly, deliberately. He knew what I was thinking, and his message was clear: he hadn’t leaked the photo.

“We should head out,” Dad said quietly.

Without saying any goodbyes, Dad and I left the park together in a hurry. It seemed like we were holding our breaths until we escaped back into the truck, away from the chaos.

As Dad drove, I watched the other cars on the road, wondering which of the drivers had seen Olivia’s photo. They would all learn about it soon enough. Some of them would even masturbate to it—it didn’t matter if the woman was missing or potentially dead. The thought made me nauseous.

The photo had most likely originated from Olivia’s phone. When she disappeared, someone else had gotten access to both. Then this person had leaked the photo during the search, when hundreds of people had gathered together in one setting, their cell phones on them. This person had called everyone, then sent them the email.

Someone had access to everyone’s contact information—that was how they knew who the searchers were, what time people would assemble. It was someone close to the search committee.

Instinctively, my first thought was Kevin, but he’d been next to me the entire time. I’d followed him in the woods, and all we did was talk. I thought of the rest of the people from the search committee: Mr. and Mrs. Willand, John Stack, Mr. Obermueller, the other members who might not have shown up. There was the woman from the check-in table and the dozens of volunteers who had access to everyone’s contact information. The search committee also worked in conjunction with the Liberty Lake Police Department, which had access, too.

There had been hundreds of people at the park reserve. Any of us could have sent out the photo unnoticed.

And what was the purpose in leaking her nude? There was no ransom note attached, no threat sent.

I couldn’t think of any reason why, except that they were playing games with the searchers. Taunting us.



A couple of hours later, I was back at Goodhue Groceries—it felt like whiplash after the grim morning at the park. At work, I wore my pumpkin headband and plastered on my Goodhue smile, and I worked until close. The night was busy, and I liked being preoccupied. Otherwise, I would have thought about the park.

“Have you seen Dwayne?” I asked Jim as he passed by. Jim shook his head.

“Dwayne’s visiting family this weekend,” he said.

It explained why I hadn’t seen Dwayne at the park reserve. I thought he would have gone looking for Olivia, but I realized I knew very little about him. If Dwayne and Kevin were no longer on good terms, then he might have fallen out with Olivia, too.

After we closed for the night, I walked back to Mom’s car. The parking lot was empty except for a few employee vehicles.

I shivered, remembering the phone call at the park. It felt like somebody had watched us.

Halfway to the car, I heard the crunch of wheels behind me, speeding up, barreling toward me.

I swiveled around.

Ron was skateboarding into me like a bullet.

I braced for impact, my heart pounding.

But nothing happened—the wheels crunched around me. When I looked up, Ron was skateboarding past the car, his head turned to look at me, his middle fingers flicked in the air.

My heart was rattling in my chest. I was frozen in place. But I pictured the skateboard in my hands, striking up and down as I battered it over Ron’s head. The smirk would be smashed off his face, the way it had disappeared off Carly’s.

By the time I got home, most of the trick-or-treaters had already left the neighborhood. Most of the lights were shut off in the cul-de-sac. But the night was only starting for Madison in L.A. and my friends back at school. Carly would be celebrating her first Halloween in college—she would have a blast, not a care in the world. People my age were going out in their costumes, drinking and dancing and hooking up.