“Are you getting closer?”
She nodded.
“Has Nicki helped?”
Another nod.
“That’s good, right? You have your sights on the target.”
She didn’t nod, but her rapid blinking confirmed the statement.
“And you know it’s Mean Heather? There’s not a doubt in your mind?”
“None,” Janie whispered.
“How do you know?”
“Trust me. There’s only one like her, and she’s…” Janie chomped down on her lower lip as she stared into her drink.
“What is it?”
She slowly lifted her eyes to the bookshelf off to the side, and I followed her gaze to a picture frame of Claire, Ian, Mia, and me the day we brought Mia home. My mom had snapped the photo.
Janie stayed quiet, the only sound was the rustling of the wind through the trees outside. An eeriness seeped into the office.
“I don’t know if I can do it,” Janie finally confessed.
“Do what? You said you were getting closer.”
“I’ve never met someone like this person. It’s so much harder than I thought. Mean Heather is so—”
“Mean,” I supplied.
“Yeah.” Janie’s sigh morphed into a shudder. “I keep thinking of my cousin and how she must have felt so alone with the whole world against her.” Janie gazed into my eyes. “Do you remember when you were fifteen and thought no one understood you? No one loved you?”
I nodded.
“The raging hormones and not understanding how the world operated—that was hard enough. Today, with the added pressure of hundreds, maybe thousands of friends and enemies online, it’s a whole new ball game.” Janie rested her head against the back of the chair, her eyes pinched shut. “The things Mean Heather does and how she eggs others to keep piling on the abuse—I understand now why my cousin thought she only had one choice. Only one way to end it.”
I squirmed in my seat.
Her wan smile wasn’t comforting. “Don’t worry. I’m not going to off myself, but I want to stop this person. End it so she can’t hurt anyone else. No matter the cost. The truth will come out.”
“Do you think Mean Heather is a man or woman?” I asked.
“My gut says it’s a guy, but the person is cagey. Almost admirably so.”
I wondered how she would feel about Mean Heather if it hadn’t involved someone Janie loved.
She remained silent once again.
The real question, though, was why had she come to me? Her contact was Avery. Was Janie questioning Avery’s loyalty?
“I read your report on E—”
She cut me off. “Do you know what she did to K?”
I stifled a gasp by rubbing my mouth with a hand. Speaking through my fingers, I asked, “She’s up to the letter K?”
“Eleven, so far.”
“Jesus.” I sucked in several deep breaths. More settled, I looked up. “I’m sorry. You were saying?”
“When she hijacked Katie’s Facebook account, Mean Heather blackmailed Katie to send a video of herself masturbating with a carrot to get her account back. It’s just a Facebook account for Christ’s sake.” Her voice was angry, the fury dissipating enough for her to continue. “But it matters to so many, especially fifteen-year-old girls. After receiving the video, Mean Heather sent it to Katie’s friends on Facebook. Even her parents and grandparents.” Janie met my eyes. “Can you imagine your grandparents watching that?”
I thought confessing my sins in my memoir was torturous.
Straightening in my chair, I said, “No, I can’t.”
It was odd, sitting in my home with Janie, who had not in the too distant past tried to blackmail me. Janie had nearly ruined my life. At least, that was what I’d wanted to believe at the time. While she had threatened to out me as the Miracle Girl, she hadn’t ruined my life. I’d played the starring role in the JJ Cavendish train wreck. That was what tore me up inside. The knowledge all the cringeworthy stuff in my memoir was a result of my actions. No one had forced me to take drugs. No one had poured booze down my throat. No one had forced me to engage in stupid, risky sexual behavior, leaving me battered in a motel in a New York neighborhood that most think only exists on television crime shows.
I couldn’t process the scenario Janie described.
She sniffed, wiping her nose on her hoodie. “You’re the only person I can talk to about this. The people helping me with the investigation live on 4chan. They’re used to seeing horrific shit. They know their stuff, but they aren’t fazed by it.” She sniffed again. “I don’t want to get to that point.”
“Do you want out of the investigation?”
She swiped an eye. “No, I just want it to end. Now.”
I could only imagine. I hated the investigation, and I was on the outside, not dealing with each new gory lead like Janie was.
“Do you want to know what became of Katie?” she asked.
I swallowed. The knot in my right shoulder felt like a hot iron had been inserted and twisted about. I managed to nod. Janie needed to share the burden, and I understood, even if it went against my policy of not wanting to be told everything. She looked too fragile, and it was difficult to blot out old feelings.
“She blew her head off. The cam on her laptop recorded it. The video appeared days later. Some are hailing Katie as ‘an hero.’” She made quote marks in the air. “Do you know the origin of that—the intentional typo?”
“No,” I whispered, not wanting to know, all the while not willing to admit that.
“Roughly ten years ago, a seventh grader named Mitchell shot himself in the head. Someone, a friend, maybe, left a comment on MySpace, saying Mitchell was ‘an hero to take it all away.’ Some trolls found it hilarious that the commenter wrote ‘an’ instead of ‘a,’ and since then suicide is thought of as heroic. Mitchell’s parents received prank calls from people saying shit like ‘Hi, it’s Mitchell. I’m at the cemetery.’ How can people be so cruel?”
I shook my head.
“Mean Heather found a goldmine on 4chan. All she has to do is release the hounds, sit back, and watch the carnage. A match made in heaven.”
“No, in hell.”
“That’s where I want to send Mean Heather.”
“Is there a way to end it quickly? Release what we know in hopes of flushing her out?”
Janie shook her head. “Too risky. I would only do that as a last resort.”
Given how things were going, how would we classify last resort? Did Mean Heather already have the next victim in the crosshairs?
The two of us sat in the darkness in complete and total silence as we listened to the storm kicking up outside.
***
“No wonder your neck is bothering you.”
I peeled my crusted eyes open to sunlight streaming through the window. Claire, with Mia on her hip, stood in the office doorway. Quickly, I looked to the desk chair and saw Janie was gone.
“Why are you sitting in that chair instead of the one we spent a boatload on that’s supposed to—?” Claire inched into the room. “Are you all right?”
I pried my eyes from the note that read, “I’m really sorry,” and forced a smile. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just sore from sleeping in a chair. I must have fallen asleep while keeping a fox company.”
“I knew there was more Coloradoan inside you than you’d like to admit to your New York pals.” Mia squirmed, drawing Claire’s attention away and giving me a second to toss my hat over Janie’s coffee cup, which was smeared with cherry ChapStick. If she’d seen it before I woke, she made no mention. Instead, she said, “Come on. Help me get breakfast going.”
“Be right there.”
Claire marched upstairs to the kitchen like a momma general preparing for battle: feed kids, get Ian ready for school, and drop Mia off with her parents before heading to the office for a full day of work. I admired her determination and energ
y.
With my hand on the seat of the chair, I reread Janie’s note. It was stone-cold. She must have left hours ago.
Did she mean she was sorry for what she had done or for what was about to happen?
Chapter Twenty-Two
From what Janie and crew had been able to piece together, Mean Heather would sometimes strike soon after a so-called success, or she’d lay dormant for weeks, waiting in the internet weeds for a distraught teenage girl to pounce on. The longest stretch we knew of was three months. I feared the lead Janie thought she had was simply a ghost.
The holidays came and went without any weirdness, much to my relief. The June wedding date was only five months away, and Claire and I were buried up to our necks with planning. She had left Fort Collins a little before one in the afternoon to meet me at the coordinator’s for our appointment at two thirty. Although I’d pay for it later, I had taken the afternoon off from work even though I was days behind. After the honeymoon in Guatemala, I’d begin production on my TV interview show.
The wedding coordinator gestured to the cakes we’d just sampled. “Which do you prefer?”
Claire looked at the samples, rubbing her bottom lip with her thumb and forefinger. “JJ?”
I sucked in my breath, considering the options. “I wasn’t a fan of the carrot one.”
“Me either.” Claire gestured that option was off the possible candidate’s list.
“Nor the white cake with raspberry.” I drummed a fingernail on my front teeth.
“Really? I liked that one.”
I smiled. “Call me silly, but I prefer simple and tasty.” I pointed to the chocolate cake with cream cheese frosting.
“What about the red velvet cake with chocolate mousse filling and vanilla buttercream frosting?” Claire pushed.
“If that’s the one you want, I’ll be more than happy to smear it all over your face. It’d be messier for sure.”
“You wouldn’t dare.” Claire thwacked me with her linen napkin, laughing.
“Don’t be so sure about that.” I blotted out the thought that none of Mean Heather’s victims would ever have a wedding or family.
The woman pressed, “So which is it: simple chocolate or red velvet?” She moved her finger back and forth like a metronome.
With crinkled brow, Claire looked to the samples again and sighed. “Can I think about it some more?”
The planner camouflaged her frustration to the best of her abilities. She’d make a terrible journalist or addict for that matter. “Of course, I understand you want every detail to be perfect.” She left us alone.
“This is going better than selecting our outfits,” I braved the conversation once we were alone, glancing at my e-mail on my phone.
“That’s because you’re being difficult.”
“I don’t want to wear a suit with a tie.” I splayed my fingers on the table, bouncing them up and down.
“But you look so cute in it.”
“You know I hate that look. Screams dyke.”
“It does not. You wear business suits.”
“Never with a tie and usually with a skirt. Now that I’m the boss, I hardly ever wear them.” I glanced down at my jeans. “I prefer being comfortable.”
“You can’t always wear jeans. I hate the way these heels”—she motioned to her shoes—“pinch my feet, but I still wear them because they look good.”
“That’s you. Not me. My heels don’t pinch my feet.” I inched closer to her. “Besides, I prefer you without the heels or anything. Can we get married at a nudist beach?”
She huffed playfully. “Be serious! Our parents and children are attending.”
“I am. We can have two ceremonies—one here and one for us. I love it when you’re naked. When I’m naked. And when we aren’t having to decide what wedding outfit to wear. What cake to order. The gift registry.” I pantomimed the seemingly endless lists of tasks.
Claire crossed her arms and pivoted to face me head-on. “If I remember correctly, you’re the one who made us climb to the top of a mountain so you could propose.”
“You begged me to take you.” My voice cracked with disbelief. “You were hell-bent on testing your mettle. I could have easily proposed on a beach in Hawaii.”
The woman cleared her throat. Claire reddened, and I wondered how she had reentered the room without our noticing.
I sat up in my chair. “The red velvet.”
The woman eyed me and then Claire with a smile. “I think that’s wise.”
“Does that mean you’ll wear the suit?” Claire whispered in my ear, hopeful.
“Not a chance.”
“I won’t give up.”
I kissed her forehead. “I know. It’s one of the things I love about you.”
“What else do you love?”
I smiled and stood to confer with the woman to finalize our order. At the door of the wedding planner’s office, I held Claire’s bold red double-breasted wool coat for her to slip her arms through. “Care to find out what else I love about you?”
She stared into my eyes briefly and then opened the door for us. “I have a pretty good feeling.”
“You may be surprised.” I opened the passenger door of the SUV, conveniently located right out front. An inch of snow had fallen while we’d been inside.
“Ha!” Claire slipped inside the car. “When it comes to this part, I know you inside and out.”
“You’re getting warmer, Ms. Nicholls.”
I ran around the front and took my seat behind the wheel.
“I can’t believe I’ll be Mrs. Nicholls soon. After I turned forty, I gave up believing I’d ever get married.” She wore a careless faraway expression I envied.
“Never say never.”
***
Since most of our appointments were in Denver, and Darrell was picking Ian up at school for a father and son ski weekend, we decided to spend the night at a hotel. Claire’s parents were more than willing to babysit Mia. They’d practically kicked me out of the house earlier when I dropped her off.
I had made dinner reservations for later in the evening, but we decided to stop at the hotel to freshen up.
“Shall I draw a bath? It’s a massive claw-foot tub—almost a crime not to use it,” I said.
“With bubbles?”
“If you so desire.”
Claire’s eyes brimmed with happiness. “It’s been months since we had the opportunity for such a luxury.”
I adjusted the water to the perfect temperature and sat on the edge while the level steadily rose. Claire entered the bathroom. She checked that the tub was almost full and started to undress.
“Uh-uh-uh.” I waved a finger and stood. “Allow me.” I unbuttoned the blouse, easing it off her body, savoring the lack of urgency. That was the one aspect of parenting I hadn’t anticipated. How everything, from brushing my teeth to undressing, was a mad dash.
Claire watched with such a look of longing I almost ruined everything by recklessly tossing aside all the time we had to make love right on the plush cream rug in front of the tub. Sensing my conflicting emotions, she took my hand and held it to her cheek, calming my desire.
My fingers snaked down her front to unzip her black slacks, letting them drop to the floor. She stood in front of me in an emerald bra and panties, causing my breath to catch. “God, you’re beautiful. I have absolutely no idea what I did to deserve you, but I promise never to take you for granted.”
“I won’t let you.” She stepped into my embrace like we were always meant to be together. Nothing, and I mean nothing, could tear us apart. “Now it’s my turn.”
“To?”
“Undress you, of course.”
I smiled and put my arms out. “By all means.”
Claire eased my shirt over my head, her rose perfume engulfing me. Not one to let an opportunity slide by, I sprinkled her neck with kisses as we helped each other out of our bras.
&n
bsp; My jeans went next, with a tad more urgency. We slipped our panties off and lowered into the almost too-hot water, inch by inch. The lavender scented bubbles wafted around us. Closing my eyes, I sank against her skin, and Claire folded her arms around me.
Her mouth explored my neck and the edges of my ear. I pressed against her harder, wanting to sink inside her completely. Claire’s right hand pinched and teased my nipple as her teeth tugged on my earlobe. Her other hand traveled down my slick body and then back up. She repeated the motion, leaving a burning trail on my skin.
As if not wanting to ruin the relaxation aspect of the bath and our first kid-free night for many months, Claire stayed her hand on my stomach, resting her cheek against mine.
“This is nice,” she said.
“Perfection,” I murmured.
“Let’s skip dinner. Stay in all night, just you and me.”
“Done.”
Her lips brushed against my cheek, and I swung my head to greet her eager mouth. The need to take things slow disappeared, and I couldn’t tamp down the desire to make love. Flipping around in the spacious tub, sloshing water over the lip onto the floor, I captured her mouth, kissing her hard, only to have Claire kiss me back with more force. She fisted the back of my head, and I gripped the back of hers.
“Come,” I instructed. I hopped out of the water, toweling off, and helped dry her skin, mostly. I led her by the hand past the sitting area to the four-poster bed with an elaborate canopy and translucent curtains.
She shoved me onto the ruby comforter with gold braid, pulling the curtains shut. “You’re all mine tonight.”
I hoisted the covers and slid under. “Get in.”
Claire climbed on top, smothering me with her fabulous tits. I took a perky nipple into my mouth, sighing with pleasure.
Claire’s knee separated my legs, and her hip rubbed against me, bringing forth a moan from both of us. Again, we kissed. Hungrily. Our hands clawed each other with animalistic need.
Claire tossed her head back. “Oh, God.”
She didn’t ask me to enter with words, but her tone was clear. I rolled Claire onto her back and inserted my fingers inside, diving deep, and staking my claim. She smothered my mouth with hers while I pumped in and out, desperately trying to go deeper and deeper with each thrust. My wrist contorted in ways to allow for Claire’s writhing. Our tongues continuously locked onto each other, consuming each other’s need.
The Fall Girl Page 19