by Eileen Cook
“Does he know about you?” she asked when I finished.
“I don’t think so,” I said. Mom stared toward the sliding glass door that led to our tiny patio, but I could tell she wasn’t really seeing the headlights going past on the road outside.
“You can’t tell anyone,” she said. “He’ll say you did it for the money.”
“But he never paid the ransom.”
Mom looked at me with a hint of scorn. “Do you think that will matter? He’ll say he did pay and you killed her so you wouldn’t have to split the cash, or he’ll say that you killed her in revenge because she never had the money. His kind always comes out on top.” Her voice was bitter. “He’ll be believed because people like him always get the benefit of the doubt. But us? We’re expected to be losers. You come forward with what you know, and trust me, you’ll be the one to pay.”
I’d never heard her talk like that. Her anger was pulsing in every word she’d said.
“I can’t just walk away. He killed her.”
“He’s a judge. You’re a teenager. Who do you think people will believe? Your best bet is to graduate and then get out of this town. Get to where he can’t hurt you. You’re eighteen. You’d be tried as an adult. You’d have already admitted to lying to the police about her disappearance.”
“One lie doesn’t mean I’m lying about everything,” I said.
She clucked her tongue. “Do you hear yourself? You’re supposed to be the skeptic out of the two of us.”
My head fell back on the sofa. “I don’t know what to do. I thought I could give the police a vision that would make them investigate him. He must have left evidence somewhere. But now that they think I’m a fake, they won’t believe me.”
We sat in silence. The wine was long gone. What unnerved me was the fact that I’d so badly misjudged everything. Paige, Drew, Lucy, my mom. I prided myself on my ability to read people, to peel back their layers and know their motivations, but I’d missed so much. I hadn’t even been aware of my own motivations. Drew was right. I had talked about moving away, but I hadn’t saved. I could have gotten a second job, I might not have had all the money I needed, but I gave up on myself years ago. I’d been scared to go away. It was easier to stay and complain than go and figure out that maybe I didn’t have what it took to make myself over. If I couldn’t even know why I did things, it made me wonder what else I hadn’t seen. Or what I was still missing. I couldn’t shake the feeling that there was a detail that was just outside of my view. But the harder I tried to figure out what it was, the more difficult it became to focus.
My mind ran over and over every interaction I’d had with Paige. Everything that came out after she died. What I knew and when I knew it. Something was out of place, but I couldn’t spot it.
My mom broke the silence. “You can’t go to the police. “
“I know.” I sagged.
She smiled. “But I can.”
Forty-Five
When I slipped through the metal detector, I half expected the alarms to blare as if I were smuggling in a gun, but my plan of attack came with less hardware. The armed guard rummaged through my bag, but then handed it back and waved me through.
The lobby of the courthouse was designed to impress. The ceiling soared up two stories with a wall of glass to counterbalance the stone walls on the opposite side. It wasn’t an inviting place. There was a huge metal statue of Justice. She was blindfolded, which was supposed to show she was impartial, but it struck me that it looked more like she had been tied up, like a hostage.
My mom had left for the police station first thing in the morning to give the detectives the vision I’d thought of the night before. I argued that I should go along, but she was firm. She wanted me to stay home and wait. She said she didn’t know if she could pull off faking it if I was watching her. She called me in sick again to school so at least I didn’t have to sit in class.
My mom was confident that this would work, but I was less convinced. The cops might or might not have listened to her, but once she told them, Judge Bonnet would hear about it, and he’d see her as a threat if he didn’t already. The judge had a nasty way of dealing with things he found threatening. Last night my mom had brushed off my concerns, saying that he wouldn’t dare do anything to us, that it would look too suspicious. But I couldn’t shake the feeling that he was the kind of person who had the cash and resources to make something look like an accident. Unless the police arrested him, we’d always be looking over our shoulders, wondering when he was coming after us.
We wouldn’t be in this situation if it weren’t for me. I was the one who got greedy and agreed to Paige’s plan. I needed to be the one to fix it.
An elderly security guard sat behind a desk. He was listening to baseball on a small transistor radio. I didn’t even know tiny radios like that existed anymore. It looked like he’d brought it back from World War II. He held up a single gnarled finger for a moment so he could hear the announcer and then shook his head.
“Cubbies are playing the Tigers,” he explained. “You looking for a particular trial?” He pulled out a sheet of paper that had a spreadsheet in tiny print listing names next to courtroom numbers.
“Um. I’m looking for Judge Bonnet’s office. His wife said he’s here.” The guard looked at me. “I went to school with his daughter,” I explained.
He shook his head. “Damn shame, that.”
“Yep.” I forced my face into what I hoped would pass for a sad frown.
The guard pointed me down the hall to the offices. As I made the walk, the walls seemed to close in, and I kept reminding myself to remember to breathe. This was no place for a panic attack. He wasn’t going to do anything to me in a place crawling with police, security, and lawyers. I paused outside the door that had Judge Bonnet’s name engraved on a metal plaque.
I can do this.
The way you make yourself into the kind of person you want to be is by taking action. I pushed the door open and stepped forward. The secretary inside was practically buried under stacks of files that were piled on her desk in unsteady columns.
“I’m here to speak to Judge Bonnet,” I said.
Her face wrinkled up. “He’s not taking appointments today. If you give me your name and number, I can try to book you in as soon as possible, but he’ll be off the rest of this week.”
“He’ll want to see me,” I said.
She raised one perfectly tweezed eyebrow. “I doubt that. He’s not a huge fan of things that aren’t on his schedule.”
“Tell him Skye Thorn is here to see him.”
She shrugged, but lifted her phone to relay the message. Her mouth popped into a tiny O of surprise, and she mumbled a response. She hung up, and as she stood, she tugged her fitted black pencil skirt into place. She opened the door that led to his space. “The judge says he’ll see you. He’s asked me to go down to the cafeteria and get you something to eat. They have good blueberry muffins. Would one of those do?” Her annoyance at being made an errand girl was obvious.
The last thing I wanted was something to eat, but I was willing to bet what the judge didn’t want was a chance that anyone would overhear even a word of our conversation. “Blueberry sounds great,” I said, stepping past her into his private office.
They call them judge’s chambers, which has almost a regal sound, but his office was boring. The walls were covered with shelves lined with books, and there was too much large wooden furniture for the space. He motioned for me to shut the door behind me. We stood there staring at each other. Now that I was here, I wasn’t entirely sure how to start. It didn’t help that every ounce of spit had dried up in my mouth, leaving my tongue stuck in place.
“I assume you’re here for a reason,” Judge Bonnet said finally when he heard the outer office door close.
I nodded. “Paige wants you to confess.”
He rolled his eyes. “I suppose you have some kind of connection with her in the great beyond?”
“Yes.” I
was proud my voice stayed calm and even.
He snorted like it was a joke, but he grew paler. “And you expect me to believe that?”
“No. I suspect you won’t.” I kept my hands in my pockets so he couldn’t see they were shaking. “It doesn’t matter if you believe me or not.”
“Then what are you doing here?”
“Paige knows what you’ve done. You know what you’ve done.”
“What are you talking about?”
When he leaned forward, I stiffened my spine and stood straighter. He couldn’t know I was scared. “I know the entire kidnapping idea was yours. I know everything.”
His Adam’s apple bopped up and down, and a slick smear of sweat broke out across his forehead.
“Then she asked for a ransom, and you couldn’t have that. Or maybe you worried that she wouldn’t stop asking for money.”
“I loved Paige,” he said.
“Then why did you call her a whore when she came back from Florida last year?” I said, throwing out one of the details Paige had told me when we first met.
He flinched. “She knows I didn’t mean that. I was angry.” He shook his head. “She must have told you those things before she died.”
“Really? Do you think anyone would believe Paige and I were friends who traded secrets? Your daughter wants you to know that if you don’t come clean with what you did, it will come out. She made sure of that. You won’t win that Senate race. And it won’t just be politics—you’ll lose everything.”
He wiped his forehead. “You can’t put some kind of voodoo hex on me.”
I laughed. “Of course not. This isn’t about me. I just came to tell you so that you can confess.”
“I’m not confessing,” he said. “You and your mother can’t prove anything. You’re a bunch of”—he scrambled to think of the right word—“hucksters. I don’t know how you’re doing this, but I don’t trust either of you.”
I turned my head to the side. “You know what I find interesting? It’s that you aren’t protesting that you’re innocent. Only that we can’t prove it.”
He stood straighter and gestured to the door. “I think you should leave.”
I wrinkled up my nose like I smelled something foul. “You killed your daughter to avoid paying a measly ransom. How do you sleep at night?”
The vein in his forehead throbbed like a snake under his skin. “You need to leave now, or I’ll call security.”
My legs shook, but I held my ground. “My mom is at the police station. The police are going to check out your story, you know. They’re going to crawl through everything. You better hope you dotted every i and crossed every t.”
He leaned forward, his face in a snarl, and I backed up a step. “You think you scare me? I don’t have to answer to you about what I did or didn’t do. I’m smarter than you can even comprehend. The police couldn’t find their own ass without me providing a map. They aren’t going to find a thing I don’t want them to find. They will never know my part in this.
“Are you so stupid that you think I did something this large without making sure every single detail was covered? You think I got to this point by being careless? You say whatever you want, but you have no proof. I will sue you and your low-rent mother. I will take every last fucking dime from your measly lives.” Spittle flew from his mouth, hitting my face as he spoke. “I will make that shithole you live in now look like a palace. So if you and your mom have a brain cell between you, you’ll leave me alone.”
“Paige will never forgive you,” I said.
“Look, I don’t know if you’re in touch with Paige or not, but she can’t do a thing. She’s dead.”
“Fine, I’m going.” I threw the heavy door open and stepped out into the secretary’s still-empty space.
“You came here to warn me?” the judge called out from his office. “Maybe you better take a warning from me instead. Stay out of this. And if you really are getting messages from Paige, you best tell her to shut up too. No one wants to hear what she has to say anymore.”
I bolted down the hall. Once I rounded the corner, I stopped and leaned against the wall. I bent over, sucking in air, my entire body vibrating with fear. This guy wasn’t going to give in easily, and I sensed he didn’t make a lot of mistakes.
But he’d made one.
My hands were shaking so hard I could barely pull my phone from my pocket. I flipped it over in my hand and turned off the record function. The fact Ryan had asked me if I was wearing a wire last time I talked to him gave me the idea. I wasn’t going to have any more conversations I couldn’t prove.
My mom was at the police station making her prediction. The cops might ignore it, but they weren’t going to be able to ignore what he’d said. I didn’t need Paige to speak from beyond the grave; the judge had done it for her.
Forty-Six
No more press conferences at fancy hotels. The judge’s family didn’t surround him this time; the guy next to him was his lawyer. When the only person you can get to stand by you is being paid to be there, it’s not a good sign.
The lawyer stood in front of the bank of microphones. “Judge Bonnet will be making a short statement. We will not”—he paused to look out at the crowd of reporters as if they were naughty children—“not, be taking any questions. As you may be aware, Judge Bonnet surrendered himself to the police yesterday after some new information about Paige’s abduction came to light and he was formally charged in the abduction and death of his daughter. He is currently free on bail. He vehemently denies any involvement in her death, and we look forward to having the opportunity to prove this in a court of law. We are cooperating fully with the investigation.”
The lawyer stood to the side and motioned for Judge Bonnet to take his place. His hands quivered slightly as he gripped the side of the lectern. “I did not kill my daughter Paige. I did not hurt her in any way, nor would I. Like many fathers and daughters, Paige and I didn’t always get along. I was frustrated when I felt she wasn’t living up to her potential, and I suspect she felt that I didn’t understand her. However—” His voice cracked, and he looked down for a beat to gather himself. “However, I loved my daughter very much. She was an amazing and complex young woman.” He took several deep breaths as if he were about to dive into the deep end.
“While I was not involved in her murder, I’m ashamed to admit that I was involved in her abduction. With Paige’s full cooperation, I came up with a plan to have her . . . disappear for a period of time so that it would seem she’d been kidnapped. I did this with the intent of gaining media attention for my run for political office. I am not proud of this decision, and am unable to understand how I came to a point where I felt this was, in any way, an appropriate choice.” He stopped to look up at the crowd of reporters. “I didn’t believe that Paige would be at any risk, and no one in my campaign staff was aware of my actions. The Republican party should not be held accountable for my mistakes, and I apologize to them and my supporters for this grave loss of judgment on my part.
“While I am willing to take full responsibility for the plan I constructed with Paige, I want to stress again that I was in no way involved with her murder. I’m willing to take whatever punishment is required for filing a false police report and will cover the costs of the investigation, but I did not kill my daughter. The police’s insistence of focusing their investigation on me means that a murderer is still out there—free.”
The judge blinked. He seemed to waiting for the reporters to take up his cry and demand the police do something, but they stared blankly at him with their microphones extended.
The lawyer moved to stand next to the judge and touched him lightly on the elbow to move him aside. “That’s all we have for today. We ask that the media don’t rush to judgment, even if the police have. We are confident that once all the details come out in court, a very different picture will emerge. We are offering a reward for any information that leads to Paige’s true killer. And we remind you that in our
system of justice, the accused is to be presumed innocent until proven guilty. Thank you.”
I sank into the sofa cushions. It made me sick that he had the gall to stand there and talk about how he’d loved Paige. The only thing he was sorry about was that he’d gotten caught.
Forty-Seven
The Burger Barn was slow. The rush was over, and there were only a couple of tables left. Early in my shift, a little kid had thrown his sundae at me because he didn’t like “nilla” ice cream, so I had a smear of crusty dried hot fudge down the front of my uniform. I prayed no one else would come in so I could go home early. My feet hurt, and I had exams starting in the morning. With all the school I’d missed lately, I needed the study time.
The bell above the door tinkled, and I jolted when I saw it was Mr. Lester. He smiled and took one of the stools at the counter.
I held up a menu, but he shook his head. “Just a sparkling water.”
Did he know where he was? Grease we had. Fat we had. Food products full of sugar and questionable chemicals aplenty. Sparkling water was not a Burger Barn staple.
“We have Sprite,” I offered.
His nose wrinkled. “Green tea?”
“Lipton,” I countered. I rummaged through the tin by the coffee station and dug out a creased foil package. “You’re in luck—it looks like there’s one mint left.”
“Sold.”
I pulled out a mug, filled the tiny metal teapot with water, and passed both of them over to him.
“You ready for exams?” He dunked the tea bag into the tepid water.
I shrugged. “Mostly. I’ll cram a bit tonight. Then I’ve still got a paper to finish for English. We’re doing a presentation instead of a test.”
He nodded. “Must feel nice to be almost done.”
I nodded and smiled because that was expected. I didn’t honestly know what I felt anymore.