Rainy made brief eye contact with Lindsey, who sat ten rows from the front. “Melanie killed herself because naked pictures of her were circulating around school.” Rainy paused. She especially wanted to give Lindsey time to let those words sink in.
Rainy went on to explain her role with the FBI’s cyber crime squad and, more specifically, the Innocent Images National Initiative. She pointed out the dangers of trusting people teens might meet in chat rooms. She told the story of the fifteen-year-old girl whose supposed sixteen-year-old soul mate turned out to be her fifty-five-year-old neighbor. Police recovered the girl’s body two weeks after she went missing. The statistics Rainy shared were sobering and were meant to intimidate.
“Did you know that one in four teenage girls reported having met in person strangers they met online?” Rainy asked the group. Rainy got back only blank stares from the rows of students listening, but she knew that her words had sunk in and were taking some sort of meaningful shape in their minds. “One out of five teens has been solicited sexually online, and only three percent told an adult about the encounter.”
When Rainy touched upon sexting, she could almost feel the teens’ ears perk up. Their attentiveness did not surprise her. Statistically, nearly 40 percent of her audience had sent nude pictures of themselves via their cell phones.
“Did you know sexting a picture of yourself is considered child pornography?” No heads nodded. Not a hand rose. The students sat still, quiet, and Rainy could tell most were riveted to their seats. “You could go to prison for sending a naked picture of yourself or receiving a picture of your boyfriend or your girlfriend. I, for one, hope those laws will change. Your state legislators are becoming more savvy about the emotional scars public humiliation can cause. Scars that might lead to suicide.”
Again, Melanie’s beaming face filled the screen behind Rainy. From somewhere in the back, Rainy heard soft snickering, followed by a burst of laughter. Her fierce eyes locked on a pack of boys who’d begun fidgeting in their seats. One boy punched another in the arm. A teacher descended on the rowdy crew and ushered the two most obvious offenders out of the auditorium.
“This is nothing to laugh at,” Rainy scolded the crowd. That comment only inspired more spurts of laughter from the increasingly fidgety teens. “Maybe you think it doesn’t apply to you, or you’re uncomfortable talking about it. But I assure you, this isn’t a joke. Sexting might just be the stupidest thing you can do with a cell phone. Maybe you think it’s funny to virtually flash your friends, but I assure you it’s not seen that way by the law. You can end up on a sex offender watch list. That means you couldn’t go to school here anymore, because you wouldn’t be permitted near minors. You wouldn’t be allowed inside a library. Your driver’s license would carry a sex offender label on it. Go try to build a life from there. Try to get a job and overcome that stigma. You can’t.”
Rainy paused. This time, nobody laughed.
“These images don’t just stay between you and your boyfriend or girlfriend. Trust me when I tell you that. In a second they can be distributed to hundreds, even thousands, of strangers. What you do online has no shelf life. Your behavior doesn’t come with an expiration date.”
Rainy flashed on her memories of James Mann’s grieving family. She could pinpoint where on the lawn they stood when the SUV with Mann inside drove away.
“So what can you do if you’ve already sent sexually explicit images to somebody you trust?” Rainy asked.
Not a single hand went up. Expected.
“First, you could ask the person who received your picture to delete it. It’s in your best interest to make certain your image wasn’t posted to any Web sites or forwarded to somebody else. Ask to see their phone. If you trust them and they trust you, that shouldn’t be a problem. I have some other suggestions, which I’ve included in your handouts. But I’m out of time, so I can’t go through all of them here. I hope you found this seminar informative. Before I go, are there any questions?” No hands went up.
Rainy continued. “Mr. Osborne has graciously made his office available for me to use for an hour following this assembly. I’d be happy to answer any questions you’d feel more comfortable asking in private. Thank you again for your time.”
Some kids applauded. Some just bolted out of their seats. The overpowering din of student chatter revved up in an instant. Rainy made her way to Lester Osborne’s office with a quick and cordial good-bye to Sergeant Murphy.
Rainy watched Lindsey Wells walk away.
It’s the state’s case now, Miles, she said to herself. Go ID the other girls and get the hell out of Shilo.
But something told Rainy she was going to be hanging around this sleepy New England town for many more days to come.
Chapter 40
Lindsey Wells followed closely behind Jill Hawkins as the students left the auditorium. Jill, who hadn’t returned a single text from the more than forty that Lindsey had sent, appeared committed to ending their friendship.
Empty.
Lindsey had never felt more empty and alone in all her life. She missed Jill’s friendship each and every day. She missed it so much that it physically hurt. But thanks to Fidelius Charm, everyone at school now believed that it was Lindsey who wrote the blog posts detailing an affair with Jill’s father. Some people even believed Jill was the mysterious Fidelius Charm, ratting out her dad by breaking the scandalous news. Rumors about Lindsey spread around Shilo as fast as it took someone to type The secret is out. Coach Hawkins is sleeping with Lindsey Wells, and hit SEND.
School had once been Lindsey’s oasis, and soccer her favorite escape. But school no longer felt safe to her, either.
No place did.
Jill disappeared around a corner, and Lindsey followed close behind. But the next moment Lindsey saw Jill, her friend was no longer alone.
Three senior girls surrounded her. Gretchen Stiller, Mandy Jensen, and Clair Hubert, known to some around school as the witches, kept pace with Jill stride for stride as they walked a long corridor lined on both sides with metal lockers.
The witches were considered the popular girls. They intimidated others. They seemed more worldly than most (not everybody went to Europe for the summer). They weren’t athletes. Too messy. Nor were they honor students. Too hard. The witches were nothing more than rich girls with the right bodies to attract the boys and the right attitudes to act above it all. They went to college parties. They could make you feel inches tall with just a glance. One did coke. None of them were virgins.
Jill was trying to walk faster than the witches. But the three girls, dressed in their skinny jeans and empire-waist shirts, weren’t making it easy for her to get away.
“Hey, Jilly. How’s your daddy doing?” Lindsey overheard Gretchen say.
“Did Lindsey sleep over last night?” Mandy asked. “Does she stay in your room or your dad’s?”
“No, she sleeps in Jill’s room but then sneaks out to sleep with her dad,” Clair said.
“Oh, that’s so cute,” Mandy said. “Is Lindsey going to be your new mom?”
Lindsey’s heart sank. How could they be so cruel?
Jill glanced over her shoulder and saw that Lindsey was coming to intervene. Jill made a subtle shake of her head. “Shut up,” Jill said softly, but loud enough for Lindsey to still hear. Jill started walking again.
Of course the witches followed, as did Lindsey. Lindsey stayed back, though; that was what Jill wanted. Her friend’s inner strength amazed her.
“You don’t tell us to shut up, bitch,” Gretchen said. “You know what I think? I think Jill here owes each of us an hour of service. I mean, we had to sit through that stupid seminar because of what her daddy did.”
Clair nodded. “I could use somebody to do my French homework. Are you good at French, Jill?”
Jill stopped walking and looked Gretchen in the eye. “I have an idea, Gretchen,” Jill said in a calm voice. “Why don’t you go fuck yourself?”
Lindsey put her ha
nd to her mouth to suppress a surprised but delighted laugh.
Gretchen turned her head and looked in Lindsey’s direction. “Oh, check it out,” Gretchen said. “It’s Daddy’s little girlfriend coming to the rescue. How poetic.”
Jill shoved her hands against Gretchen’s shoulders. The taller girl stumbled backward, several staggered steps. Jill turned to walk away, but before she could make it very far, Clair reached out and grabbed hold of Jill’s ponytail. Clair yanked on Jill’s hair as though she were pulling a rope attached to a bell. Jill’s head snapped back, and she let out a painful yelp. Mandy entered into the fracas and pushed Jill hard in her back. Jill fell into a row of lockers and tumbled to the floor. She let out another painful groan as soon as she landed.
Lindsey saw Clair pull her leg back, as if readying to kick Jill in her side. That was when Lindsey knew it was time to step in and help. She charged at Clair and pushed the already off-balance girl to the floor. Clair landed on the floor, not far from where Jill lay.
Jill scampered back to her feet and made fists with her hands. “Just leave us alone!” she screamed.
“Is Coach going to be your prom date, Lindsey?” Mandy asked.
“You don’t know anything,” Lindsey said.
“Your parents are divorced, isn’t that right?” Clair addressed Lindsey. “So is the coach like a father figure to you? A daddy replacement?” Clair kept the tone of her voice overly empathetic, which only put more sting in her sarcasm.
“You don’t even know what you’re talking about,” Lindsey retorted.
The witches formed a tight circle around the pair. Lindsey and Jill eyed each other and without words agreed that they would fight, not flee.
Thankfully, it didn’t come to that. Merle Gornick, Lindsey’s chemistry teacher, emerged from around the corner. “Don’t you girls have someplace you’re supposed to be?” she asked.
“Yes, Mrs. Gornick,” the witches said in unison. Gretchen stopped and turned, mouthing the words, “Say hi to Daddy,” as clearly as if she’d spoken them aloud. Merle must have guessed the other three were the aggressors, because she left Jill and Lindsey to gather up their things. She followed close behind the three girls, and when they reached the end of the hallway, they all disappeared around a corner.
Lindsey helped Jill put on her backpack. Both girls were breathing hard from the adrenaline rush.
“Can we talk?” Lindsey said to Jill.
Jill shrugged. “Sure. I guess.”
“I didn’t do this. I never had an affair with your dad. God, that’s so gross to even think about.”
This time, Jill seemed more open to listening. A good sign, Lindsey thought.
“Well then, why did the police confiscate your computer? Why did Fidelius Charm send out another batch of messages about you and my dad?”
“For the same reason that people think you’re Fidelius Charm,” Lindsey said.
“They what? That’s ridiculous,” Jill snapped.
“So is the idea of sleeping with your dad,” Lindsey said. “You’ve got to believe me, Jill. I swear to you it’s true. I’ve never done anything like that. I’d never.”
Jill sighed. “Look, is that FBI lady still hanging around?”
Lindsey’s insides went cold. It had been hard enough to sit through the mandatory assembly with Agent Lorraine Miles at the podium. She knew her pictures were probably the real reason the agent had come back to Shilo to address the students. Her mother had been in a rage ever since that embarrassing episode. And now with the police confiscating her computer, Facebook rumors escalating, she and her mother weren’t even on speaking terms. Apparently, her mother, like the witches, believed that Lindsey and the coach were having an affair. Lindsey’s stomach had been in knots for the entire hour of that assembly. She’d have skipped out if she could, but attendance was mandatory.
What could Jill want with Agent Miles? she wondered.
“I think so. Why?” Lindsey asked.
“You say you didn’t write those blog posts. Well, she knows about computers. Maybe she can help explain who did.”
“Would you believe me if she can?” Lindsey asked.
Again Jill shrugged. “Maybe. I think so,” she said. “We used to be on the same team. Before all this, I mean.”
“So?”
“So, maybe it’s time we get on the same team again,” said Jill.
Chapter 41
Rainy heard a knock on the open door of Principal Lester Osborne’s office just as she was gathering up her things to leave. Two girls entered. Rainy was delighted to see that one of them was Lindsey Wells. She glanced over at the other girl and recognized her from a picture in Murphy’s police report as Coach Hawkins’s fifteen-year-old daughter, Jill.
Rainy’s pulse jumped. She had wanted to dig deeper into the Coach Hawkins case, but aside from identifying other girls from Mann’s unusual text image collection, she didn’t have any jurisdiction, let alone reason to investigate. Perhaps Lindsey was going to change all that.
“Hi. Are you still talking to students? Answering questions, I mean,” Lindsey said in an uncertain voice.
“Of course. Of course I am,” Rainy replied, her pulse still hammering away.
Rainy didn’t know what information, if any, Lindsey had shared with Jill about the sexting incident and its connection to Coach Hawkins. Rainy suspected that Lindsey had willingly shared her pictures with the coach, but, of course, that was only her theory and not yet an established fact.
“Let the evidence take you there,” Tomlinson always said.
Whatever the truth, Rainy knew to keep her knowledge of Lindsey’s naked pictures a secret between them. Lindsey didn’t seem to be here to rehash that, anyway. She had a fresh urgency. “Do you girls want to sit down?” Rainy asked.
Lindsey gave her head a quick shake no. “If it’s all right with you, we’d rather stand.”
Both girls shuffled on their feet, and neither would make eye contact with Rainy.
“Okay. Then I’ll stand with you,” Rainy offered. “So, can you tell me your names?”
Rainy looked at Lindsey, her way of communicating that their secret was safe with her.
“Sure, I’m Lindsey Wells.”
Rainy nodded, then looked to Jill. “And you are?” she asked.
“My name is Jill,” the sweet-voiced girl answered. “Jill Hawkins.”
Rainy moved out from behind Principal Osborne’s steel desk. She wanted no barriers between herself and the girls.
The girls leaned their lithe bodies against the concrete wall, looking to Rainy like crookedly hung paintings. Their expressions simultaneously conveyed boredom, nervousness, indifference, and concern.
Teenagers.
“What is it you want to talk about?” Rainy asked.
The girls glanced at each other, then at Rainy, but neither replied. Do you want to tell me why you sent Coach Hawkins your picture? she silently asked Lindsey. Rainy gripped the edge of the desk hard enough to make her fingers ache. “Girls, do you have something to ask me?” Rainy said again. Her investigator’s mind swirled through the many possibilities and connections.
Lindsey broke free from her perch and took a cautious step forward. “Well, in that assembly you were talking about things not being like they seem on the Internet. That story you told about chatting with a boy, but it’s not really a boy. It’s a man.”
“That’s right.”
“Well, I’m just wondering, um ... How does somebody make it look like you were doing something on the Internet that you weren’t doing?”
Rainy bit her lower lip. She could guess what Lindsey might be getting at.
“Well, that depends. Can you be more specific?” Easy, Rainy. Easy.
Jill let out an exasperated sigh, as though anticipating how long this was going to take without her intervention. Unlike Lindsey, Jill kept her shoulders rooted against the wall and her arms folded tightly against her chest. “Look, the police think Lindsey wrote thes
e blog posts on Tumblr.com about my dad,” Jill said. “They confiscated her computer.”
“And that’s what you wanted to talk to me about?” Rainy asked. Her heartbeat shifted into fifth gear from fourth.
“I want to know if you can do that,” Jill said. “Lindsey says she didn’t write any blog posts, she doesn’t even have a Tumblr.com account, but the police are saying they can trace the posts back to her home computer. How is that even possible?”
“Well, they’d do it through IP addresses,” Rainy explained. “There are logs that your Internet service provider keeps. We can match those logs up and use it to pinpoint an address.”
Jill’s expression contorted in a way suggestive of someone having eaten something unpleasant. Rainy glanced to Lindsey. “Lindsey is a minor,” Rainy said, “and her identity is legally protected.”
“Yeah, right,” Jill muttered. “Protected.”
“Do you mind telling me how people linked Lindsey with your father’s case?” Rainy asked.
Rainy knew the link was there but couldn’t believe that connection had leaked out to the rest of the Shilo community. Some safeguards.
“Because of Facebook,” Lindsey said. “Somebody created this bogus Facebook profile, and they’ve been using it to spread rumors about me and Coach Hawkins online.”
I’m not so sure they’re rumors, Rainy thought.
“People have been writing really disgusting things about me on my Facebook page,” Jill said. “I had to delete my profile. And forget about the text messages I’m getting.”
“We’re wondering if maybe somebody is trying to get at both of us,” Lindsey suggested. “But it’s nobody on the soccer team. We’re sure of that.”
“How can you be sure?” Rainy said.
It was Lindsey who made a face this time and probably would have said, “Duh! Because we know,” if she and Rainy had been peers.
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