Pretty Girls Dancing(39)

“Oh, my God, you have a devious mind. I think I’m rubbing off on you. Except this never would have occurred . . . move over.”

Obligingly, Janie made space on the bed, and her friend sat beside her, her legs stretched out next to Janie’s. “Whose computer did you borrow?”

“Tank’s.” At Janie’s expression, Alyvia’s face went angelic. “What? I knew he had his own and that he’d loan it to me, no questions asked.”

Tank Morgan was a loser, a fifth-year senior, who spent far too much time hanging around Alyvia. Janie knew he was the one her friend had gotten drunk with last week. He appealed to the other girl’s worst instincts and was the single biggest impediment to her getting the diploma she claimed she wanted. As if life didn’t throw enough obstacles in her path, Alyvia had a habit of hauling in more to trip over.

“He doesn’t do anything without expecting something in return.”

“Story of my life, girl. Look here . . .” She shifted to dig into the pocket of her oversize army surplus jacket and pulled out a folded sheet of paper. “I spent four hours online last night after you called. I came up with eight numbers.”

“Eight?” Her stomach clenching, Janie picked up the notebook at her side and compared the names and numbers she’d jotted down with the ones her friend had noted. “I recognized these six.” She stabbed a finger at each of Alyvia’s entries in turn. Each model in the pics on the site was assigned a number. Subsequent pictures of the same girl had a letter affixed after them. “From what I can figure out, the owner of this site must charge by the download. You can even buy credits to use on it at a slightly cheaper rate.”

“Sure.” Alyvia bobbed her head. “For the pervert bargain hunters. Makes sense. Okay, let’s see.” She studied the two pages aligned together. “How did you guess that Heather’s bosomy buddies would be on here, too?”

“I didn’t.” Because her voice was husky, Janie cleared it. “I really thought Ferin probably uploaded some personal pics. But I thought it was worth checking to see if I knew anyone else on there. I mean, the list of girls he’s hooked up with would fill volumes.” From what she’d heard, the guy was a walking STD. “If he’d done it to Miller, it figured that he would have to others, too.”

“Good thought, but it doesn’t appear likely. Unless you think he’s also banging Molly Stabe and Erin Forwith.” The two girls were usually inseparable from Miller. “Which I’m sure he’d be into, but I doubt the bitchacrite would approve. I about shit myself when I saw them on there. Do you know Stabe is still in Girl Scouts? At her age? But that definitely wasn’t a Scout sash covering her hoo-ha.”

Janie’s mouth quirked. Alyvia could always make her smile. “Kaylee Cross is on there. She graduated three years ago. And these two.” She tapped a couple of other names on her page. “I recognize them but don’t remember their names. They’re older, too. Maybe graduated with Cross or the year after.”

“Tabitha Downing and what’s-her-face. Babs, I think they called her. Huntsman. Yeah, I think you’re right. Three years ago. These other two on my list? One is Deedee Bakker. She was in the Kisser’s foster home with me for a few months. Remember when I had to live in Akron?”

Janie did. Two years ago, there had been no home available in West Bend, and Alyvia had been placed across the state. That had lasted for a few months until she’d been returned to her mother’s care—for the last time. In a drug-induced frenzy, Sheila Naughton had stabbed her daughter for eating the last frozen pizza, and authorities had removed Alyvia for good after that. “Where is she now?”

Alyvia gave her a look. “Like we’re pen pals? Who the hell knows? And this last one I recognized . . . I don’t know her name. But I’m pretty sure I’ve seen her before. Last summer, at a party at the lake house.”

The lake house was a home outside of town built on a wooded lot edging a man-made lake. The most elaborate home in the vicinity, it had stood vacant for years since its owners had gone through a bitter divorce. The story Janie had heard was that the husband refused to sell it because he’d have to split the proceeds with his ex. It was more likely that no one around here could afford it. At any rate, the small beach behind it was a frequent site for keggers, and every year someone at the high school seemed to acquire a key to the place and hosted parties until the cops shut it down again.

Alyvia went silent then for a moment before saying, “So . . . what do we do with this? I mean, it’s interesting and all, especially finding Miller and her posse on it, but unless you want to make her pics public . . .” She held up a hand to squelch Janie’s protest. “Not arguing—much—but if not, it’s a big nothing burger.”

Avoiding her friend’s gaze, Janie returned her attention to the screen in her lap. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “I thought . . . maybe that girl might be on here. Whitney DeVries.”

Her friend’s head swiveled toward her. “Why would you think that?”

Janie’s shrug was defensive. “I didn’t really . . . I just wondered if I’d see anyone else I knew. Someone might have stolen these from the cloud or whatever. That’s a crime.”

“Yeah. And that someone might have been Bogart. Which makes him a douchebag, but we already knew that, and again, who cares?”