Pretty Girls Dancing(53)
Some days it isn’t even an act.
He knows so much about me. I didn’t realize it for a while because I was so wrapped up in loneliness and grief. But he knows where I went to school, my parents’ and sister’s names, where my dad works. Is he an acquaintance of our family, or has he been watching us? And it made me think. His learning all about me is what got me into this chamber of horrors. Maybe learning all about him will get me out.
There must be a reason he never lets me see him. The same reason he uses that creepy voice changer to distort his voice to sound like a Darth Vader wannabe. Because he’s careful, or maybe because he’s afraid I’d recognize him. That’s the thought that scares me the most.
The slant of light was extinguished again. And this time, although Whitney waited a long time, it didn’t come back. A voice changer. Why hadn’t she thought of that? The deep tones with the slightly hollow sound. She and her friends had voice-changer apps on their phones. They tried them all, sounding like grown men, robots, and aliens. She rolled up the papers. Retraced her steps to put them back in their hiding place. She replaced the screw on the floor of the rickety shower and made her way to the mattress, all the while trying to suppress the emotions careening inside her.
But huddled beneath her thin covers, hugging her knees close to her chest, the other girl’s words washed over her again.
He told me my family was dead. He’d told Whitney the same thing. Shown her proof. Tortured her with pictures of the plane crash. Read her the obituaries in the paper. Even read some of the things people had written on the site at the funeral home. What were the chances that both Kelsey’s family and hers had been killed after they were kidnapped?
Not good. Whitney smiled in the darkness, a tiny spark of anticipation igniting. Her mom and dad and Ryan were alive. She was almost sure of it.
And she was going to figure out a way to get back to them.
Janie Willard
November 11
7:20 a.m.
There was a light knock at her bedroom door. “Janie? You have a visitor.”
“It’s okay, Mom. Come in.” When the door opened, she surveyed her mother carefully. Claire was, as usual, immaculately groomed in linen slacks, patterned blouse, and matching cardigan. Hair carefully fixed. Makeup subtle but effective. She could be going to one of her endless meetings or ready for a day of shopping. But she dressed the same way whether she was planning to leave the house or not. If her mother had clothes for lounging, Janie had never seen them. She’d rarely even seen her in a pair of jeans.
Her color was back. The pinched look was gone from her lips, and her brow wasn’t furrowed. Something inside Janie relaxed. Whatever had been going on with her mother for the last couple of days, she seemed to have recovered.
“Is it Alyvia? I told her I’d pick her up.” Sitting on the edge of the bed, Janie pulled on a pair of flat, black-leather boots that reached nearly to the knee of her denim-clad legs. Standing again, she pulled down the hem of her hooded tunic top. Her long, straight hair was still wet. She usually allowed it to dry over breakfast. There’d be no time wasted on styling it or applying makeup. That had been Kelsey’s deal. It would never be Janie’s. She crossed to her desk and picked up her backpack. Reached for her school laptop.
“No, it’s not Alyvia.” Claire came further into the room, lowering her voice conspiratorially. “It’s a young man. He says his name is Cole.”
Janie froze. “Cole Bogart?”
“I believe that’s what he said, yes.” Claire’s expression became troubled, alerting Janie that she needed to temper her response. It took little to raise her mom’s protective instincts. “He said he knew you from school. Should I send him away?”
Cole Bogart. Janie completed the act of stuffing her laptop into her bag, her mind racing. He’d tried to reach out by e-mail a few times since they’d been in after-school suspension. She’d deleted them, unopened. Since she wasn’t on any social media sites—whom would she talk to?—he couldn’t use that avenue.
Apparently, he’d found another way to contact her.
“I’ll get rid of him.” Claire turned to the door. “I won’t have him coming here and upsetting you.”
“No.” The word burst from Janie’s lips before she could consider it. “It’s fine. He probably just wants to talk about the government project.”
“Are you sure?” Claire hovered uncertainly. “I don’t know why he couldn’t wait and speak to you at school. I have breakfast ready.”
“I’ll be in to eat in a few minutes.”
“I showed him to the family room.”
Janie nodded. The family room was far enough away from the kitchen to be private. She’d get rid of him without any fear that her mother would overhear and ask more questions.
She zipped her backpack and slowly followed her mother downstairs. Unspoken between them was the fact that this was the first time a boy had come to the house to see Janie. They’d flocked around Kelsey, although their parents refused to let them date until they were fifteen. It hadn’t stopped guys from showing up to hang out, though, usually in a mixed group. Her sister had enjoyed the attention, but there hadn’t been any one guy she’d been interested in. Janie would have known. Kelsey had shared stuff like that, chattering on about who was hot, who wasn’t, and who liked whom.