Chaos Theory (9 page)

Sixteen

Vampy V steps close to Daniel. Something inside me growls quietly.

“Of course, if you keep me happy, then I wouldn't have any reason. Julia was a friend. I don't want to get her brother in trouble.”

Relief washes over Daniel's face. He says, “I'm all out now, but when I get more, I can take care of you. What are you looking for?”

Vampy V laughs, but not loud enough that anyone below can hear. “Why don't we talk about it.” She guides him until he sits on a bale of hay. Then she pulls back and looks at him like he's meat in the grocery store. If I had claws, they'd be out.

“Who would have guessed that little Julia had such a hunky brother.” Her hands clamp on his upper thigh. Daniel tries to get up. “Oh, you don't want to leave. I'm not done. We don't want the police to hear about your extracurricular activities, right?”

Daniel's had enough. “Whatever you think is going to happen here, isn't going…”

“Oh, it will.” She pushes him back down on the bale and straddles him, rocking against him.

Daniel's hands settle on Victoria's butt. I hope it's to steady himself. Wringing the slut's neck has a lot of appeal.

He says, “So if we have sex, you'll keep quiet about my drug dealing?”

“Honey, I'm going to have sex, I don't know what you're going to have.” She shifts her position and Daniel groans.

Vampy V undoes the buttons on her tailored riding shirt.

That's when he stares at me over her shoulder and mouths, “Help!”

Help him how? I punch in Trish's contact number with the phone in the tight space centimeters from my face and text,
Vampy V's raping Daniel in the hayloft. Do something.

A short time later, boots scuffle below. Someone calls quietly up the ladder. “V! Get out now. Trish saw you and Daniel come up here. She's going to tell Peggy.”

Vampy V jumps off Daniel's lap and heads down the aisle, fastening her buttons. As she climbs down, she says, “Be at the mall food court tomorrow. Noon. If you're late, I call your dad and the police.”

I hear the bees laughing as they head for their cars. On shaky legs, I climb down off the haystack and join Daniel.

“Daniel, are you okay?”

No answer; just heavy breathing.

And what am I supposed to say? I pick, “I think we should head down.”

He snorts and rearranges himself on the haybale. “You don't know much about guys, do you?”

That grates. I saved his…Well, Daniel probably isn't a virgin.

He says, “I can't go downstairs yet.” I sit on the bale next to him. Daniel takes several deep breaths and closes his eyes. “You saved me—again.”

I look down and see the bulge in his tight jeans. Noticing, Daniel crosses his legs and angles away.

He says, “I'm not wearing jeans this tight ever again.”

I stammer, “It, well, it worked.”

Then I gulp, remembering that hard-to-miss view. It makes Daniel laugh. “It did. I just can't head down until things, uhm, get back to normal. You go ahead if you want. This could take some time.”

This is as fascinating as my chaos locker, and Daniel seems willing to share. I whisper, “How can you get turned on by Vampy V?”

He opens one eye. “You really don't know, do you? Hard-ons are a fact of life, whether I want them or not. Backpacks? Why do you think we carry them instead of wearing them? Camouflage.”

“Oh.”

“Something we see or touch or smell can do it. God, the first time I got a whiff of you in that study carrel…I was mad you snooped over my shoulder, but couldn't move because Jonesy here was at attention.”

“You got a hard-on from smelling me?”

He laughs, short and hard. “Get out of here. I'll be down soon.”

“K.” Bergamot, my oil of choice. My yoga instructor said it would focus my mind for MA. Climbing down the ladder, I can't keep the grin off my face.

Downstairs, Trish is there with a curious North Carolina Fiona beside her.

Fiona says, “What was Victoria doing up in the hayloft? If she was up there smoking…”

I say, “Averted disaster.” And give Trish a hug. “You're a lifesaver.”

That's when Daniel starts down the ladder. Fiona looks from Daniel and then out to the parking lot. “Oh.” Then a stronger, “Oh! That slut and Julia's brother?” She rounds on Daniel. “You don't have any more sense than she did.” She stomps away. Trish frowns and rushes after her.

Daniel gets off the ladder, walking stiffly. I can't help myself. “Tough day, cowboy?”

“Gimme a break.”

We look at each other, tired with sore muscles, shoulders slumped, and no supplier took the bait.

Daniel texts GV:
We're giving up for the day.

I text Sam and Sandy:
Bat cave now.
Showing the phone to Daniel, we make for the common room and our coats. Over my dead body am I letting him anywhere near Vampy V.

***

After NASCAR showers at our houses, we enter the Bat Cave. Sam brought pizza—a lot of pizza; there are three boxes on the coffee table. I smelled the pepperoni through the bookcases coming in and my stomach rumbled. What will we do if a librarian tracks down the smell?

Daniel grabs a piece. “Thanks man. Cleaning stalls is hard work.”

I say, “We can't keep eating in here. We'll get kicked out,” and then grab a slice, chomping down.

Sandy tapes the poster crime board up. “Give us a break! Sam and I worked until three last night.”

Sam says, “Fifteen minutes since your text. No time to eat. Thank God for Sip N Go ready-made. I'm starved.”

It's the weekend. The library's on minimal staff. “Okay, this time. If we get kicked out for this, I don't know where we're going to go.”

Daniel grabs a second slice and—gross—talks through the one in his mouth. “I like it.”

“Kami's got a point. Plus, I blew my cash on getting this stuff.” She points to the poster and supplies. “Sam's spent our date money on food.” They both look at me. Leader time. My own resources aren't unlimited and I blew that buying the new parka. What would we do for cash?

Daniel wipes his greasy hands on his jeans and picks up a Coca-Cola, popping it. “I've got it covered.”

I frown at him. He's made it clear that he isn't rich like his dad.

“I've got savings. I owe you guys. Expenses covered. Just tell me how much.”

Sandy, the former Daniel-hater, hugs him. It's totally worth it seeing Daniel's shocked face. Big silent guy isn't a PDA fan. I check out the crime board. It's been updated. It even has buyers' names that Sandy recognized from the photos I'd texted her.

Sam fills us in on Julia's Facebook page and her e-mails. “Here's the deal. I worked the laptop and Sandy the phone. We lucked out with the automatic access to her accounts. They pop right up. No passwords. Even better, she deleted nothing. Her digital presence is scary-wide-open.

“The bad news is we didn't find drug references. No suspicious meetings either. She met friends and her boyfriend at the mall. For a girl who was wide open about everything, she was careful with anything that might be illegal.”

“She was coached.” I suggest.

“Yeah, I think so. She posted a couple times about the shoplifting, but drugs—nothing.

I inspect Sandy's updated timeline. The shoplifting happened right after Daniel left for North Carolina. Then she was told no dressage lessons unless she got a new horse. She refused and drifted away from Trish.

Sam says, “I accessed her friends' Facebook accounts. She's got tons—in the hundreds. Some friends probably posted stuff, but most of those have privacy settings. It'll take time.”

“Time we don't have.” I'm keeping my promise to tell Dr. Bartlett everything on Thursday.

Sam shoots a glance toward Daniel. “No suicide letter? No, ‘I love you guys, but…'”

“No.” Daniel closes up tight and stops snarfing the pizza.

I'd researched teen suicide. No suicide note is odd, but not unheard of either. Daniel could be wrong. So far, there isn't any data pointing to murder. He's too emotionally involved to be objective.

Sam the Chronicler says, “Most posts after late September were about her boyfriend.” Again, he pauses awkwardly before saying, “She and this boyfriend—his name is Greg, by the way—in the private messages, it got hot and heavy, graphic.” Then he looks at Daniel. “I'm sorry. This is weird saying all this in front of you.”

A little grounding wouldn't hurt. I say, “We have to be brutal and honest in here. Daniel knows that. He's a big boy and he can handle it. I don't think he can handle Vampy V, though.”

“WHAT???” Sandy zeroes in on a red faced Daniel. “What were you doing with Vampy V? You'd better get some antibiotic shots. How icky can you get? Do you know what she's like?” Then curiosity gets the better of her. “Give it up! Tell me!”

I take a grease slab to the long sofa and sit down next to Daniel. Sam and Sandy are in the easy chairs. “She cornered him in the hayloft. I had a balcony view from a haystack. Hand over the eye bleach. ”

Seventeen

Sandy's shocked into silence, which is a relief. I don't want to go into those details. “We need a plan. He's supposed to meet the queen bees at the mall at noon tomorrow. Trish thinks they got Julia into shoplifting. I agree.”

“Who are the queen bees?” Sam asks.

Sandy fills him in. She's never been to the stable, but she's heard me talk about them. Sam writes down their names and asks, “Mandy, Tammy, and Vampy? It's like a bad soap opera. What about this Fiona?”

“You can skip Carolina Fiona. No, don't skip her, but she's not a priority. She split from them. Trish says she's clean, and I believe her unless something shows up otherwise.”

Then Sandy's back on task like an eagle diving for salmon. “So what happened in the hayloft?”

I say, “We can talk about Victoria later. Right now, let's concentrate on what you and Sam found last night.”

She's not happy, but when I won't say anything more, she fills us in. “There wasn't anything in Julia's e-mails or texts about drugs either. Again, she never deleted anything. There were some hot ones to/from her boyfriend. No photos, though.” She goes to the crime board and under the question mark for boyfriend, she writes in,
ink.
“He has tattoos; Julia thought they were sexy.”

She reaches into her bookbag and pulls out several typed sheets stapled together. She hands out two bunches for each of us and explains. “Using her phone, I accessed her cellphone provider's app to get her call records back to October. Whereas her call list gives contacts, the bills give who she was calling, when, and how often. I never knew how those automatic entry apps leave so much out there for someone to steal if he gets in your phone. This is nightmare territory. I reset all my passwords. You guys should do the same thing.

“Anyway, this bunch marked PC is a list of her incoming and outgoing phone calls as far back as I could go, and this bunch marked TM are her text messages. I thought Daniel could rule out family numbers. Very few landlines, so the phone book is a no go.”

For a time, we look over our lists for any numbers we recognize. The calls are date- and time-stamped. Daniel compares them to his own phone. There aren't a lot of entries for Julia's Mom and Dad. There also aren't many to Daniel. I look up at the suicide list and reread the “isolated from family” entry but I don't say anything. I'd already checked that indicator off. Trisha's number is listed once in the recent record. The drift that began in late August was permanent by mid-October. Sam pulls the school attendance number; it had several morning calls. Those started in October.

Sam says, “I'm guessing she was calling in sick to skip school?”

Daniel said, “Yeah.” It's almost a whisper.

Sam continues. “I posted a series of articles on drug use. It's typical that school attendance and grades drop like a rock—often in one single semester. She had grade problems too, right?”

“Yeah.” Daniel puts down his pizza slice. It's his fourth, but I don't think he's full.

I say, “Those other names? How do we figure out who they are? Call them?”

Sam says, “Yep. I'll do it. I'll say that I'm working on a teen suicide piece.”

I place my hand over Daniel's tightening hand and tell Sam, “Do it.” Then to Daniel, “We have to know. Don't get mad at Sam. If you want to hit someone, hit me.” Or maybe he should go stomp on Julia's grave. His half-sister wasn't innocent in this, but Daniel isn't there in his mind yet. Daniel still blames himself. As far as he's concerned, this is all crap and Julia is his blond-haired angel.

Daniel nods to Sam who grabs a piece of pizza and settles into a study carrel to work the list.

Sam's phone conversations go like this. First he assumes the person won't ask where Sam got their phone number. Not a single person does. I wonder if I'd be so naïve. Probably.

Then he says, “Did you know Julia Jamison well? I'm doing an article on teen suicide and I could use your help. I won't publish your name or hers, I promise.” If he gets a yes, and most are, he says, “Okay, for the record, could you give me your full name and how you knew Julia?” Then he shifts to, “Do you think Julia committed suicide and why?”

After the first couple phone calls, it goes faster. He uses the name of the last caller as someone who suggested they be called. That opens the floodgates and his notebook fills with names and notes. He keeps a running tally and despite everyone saying they can't believe she committed suicide, they all have a personal story that makes it seem possible.

Daniel starts pacing. With every call, he walks faster and faster. When Daniel lifts a fist near a wall, I raise an eyebrow to Sandy. It's time for a distraction.

Quick on the draw, Sandy charges in. “Tell me about Vampy V.”

Distracted, Daniel sits down again and starts talking. “Just like Kami said. If I don't put out, she threatened to expose the drug deals, tell my parents.”

Sandy sucks in air. “And Victoria doesn't like to wait for her candy.”

Then there's a gap in our conversation when no one says anything except Sam on another phone call. Eventually I say, “She doesn't get any candy. It was thoroughly gross. Daniel isn't going anywhere near that vampire ever again.” It sounds more proprietary than I intend. Sandy notices. Her eyes bounce between Daniel and me.

My turn to stand up in front of the crime board, too worked up to sit. Suicide or not? “Okay, somewhere on this timeline, sweet little Julia turned into a drug dealer. What happened? Daniel didn't notice anything when he left for school in August, so whatever it was, it happened after that.”

Sandy offers, “On cop shows, they say to follow the money.”

“Yes, and that would work if we were dealing in high finance, but this is all cash.” My face cranks up the temp as I remember Daniel's tight jeans. I'd looked at that butt a lot more than necessary.

“Follow the money…” I chew on the cap of the marker. “Or follow the sex…” I circle the new date Sandy had put on the timeline—that point where the mysterious Boyfriend with Ink shows up.

Sandy gets it right away. “The boyfriend! He pops in at just the right point. You think this Greg started it all?”

Daniel joins me at the board. “So who is Greg and how do we find him?”

Sandy's quick. “He's got to be on my lists!! They had to talk, but I can get info through my contacts too. Give me a few minutes.”

Now there are two people in the carrels on phones. The hideaway shifts into annual PBS fundraiser mode without Blinko-glass thank-you gifts. I ask Daniel, “So how do we handle Vampy V?”

He shakes his head. “I show up or she blows everything before we get to Julia's dealer.” Then he softly strokes the suicide indicator list. “You think Julia committed suicide, don't you?”

I want to lie, but who does that help? “Yes, I think she did.”

He's still not ready to agree.

“I'm keeping an open mind, Daniel. You can't do something like that and not leave behind clues. We'll find them.” But for lots of suicides, the family and friends never figure out why.

“I have to show up at the mall tomorrow. I can't let this blow up before I get that drug dealer.”

“Problem guys.” Sam says from his carrel and then waits until Sandy is off the phone to talk. “One of most called numbers is dead.”

That doesn't sound promising.

“It's no longer being used.” Sam refers back to the date/time stamps. He takes a pen and counts checkmarks and does some quick math. “About twenty-five percent of the calls to that number are after-school hours and seventy-five percent are after nine at night. Almost all originated by Julia. A ton of them not answered because they were really short, but the others last a long time.”

Daniel's hands tighten again. “Nine o'clock was Julia's curfew. Do you think those were from this Greg?”

“That's a safe bet. Lots of them were after midnight.”

I crinkle my forehead. “What can we find out about that phone number if it's been disconnected?”

“Us? Nothing.”

Sandy says, “It's a burner phone!!! You know the kind you buy with minutes on them and then throw away? That's what crooks do in the cop shows!”

Sam looks again at the long series of numbers. He takes his time with the lists, looking at the data there. “Back here is another number with the same time-patterns.” He dials it and places it on speaker phone. A mechanical voice comes on saying the number is no longer in service. “That's probably him too. He switched phones.”

Sandy says, “Yeah, well that's not all. Everyone knew that Julia had a boyfriend, but nobody knew who he was. A lot of people thought she'd made him up. She'd been acting weird and then the drug thing, but we know he does exist.”

I say, “School records—like in the yearbook. That's where we start next. This floor in the stacks has periodicals and yearbooks. Right next to us might be our guy's photo.”

Sandy takes over Sam's laptop. “Let me check the library online catalog.” It doesn't take long. “Hey, they've got them.” She reads out the call number.

“Give me a minute.” I go over and crank bookcases to the right call numbers. They shift easily despite their weight. When the right bookcase is exposed, I pull out three years of our high school yearbooks; beside them are ones from nearby communities and I pull those too.

And two hours later, we aren't any closer to finding Boyfriend with Ink. There are plenty of Greg names, but Sandy knows the local ones. They aren't our suspect. The other nearby school districts will take longer to research.

Sam grabs Julia's laptop and wakes it up. “We found his Facebook page last night.” He pushes some buttons. “And here it is.”

It's the most boring page that I ever saw, and mine is the absolute worst—so I know boring. He has only one friend—Julia. Creepier yet? There aren't any photographs of him at all. “What are the odds that there would be a legitimate Facebook page that doesn't have one photo?”

“Nil.” Sam and Sandy say at the same time. Social Media Pro Sandy says, “It happens, but most kids have images or something posted. Funny posters or fan pics, that's normal. This,” she points at the Facebook page, “doesn't have a thing we can use to find him.”

***

We put together our plan for the next day. With Vampy V's threat, we know she and her friends will be at the mall. After Julia's great drift from Trish, the queen bees were Julia's closest contacts. They must have info on Julia's life before her death.

Sandy will casually run into them and extract information. We also keep Daniel out of Vampy V's clutches. He's to text her after Sandy's done with them to say his mom grounded him.

Daniel hates it. “That's stupid.”

Sandy defends her idea. “Yeah? And what's your brainy alternative?”

Daniel fires back, “She'll call my dad.”

Sandy returns fire. “Her game would be over. You sound eager to see her, and she'll wait it out. I'll write the text for you.”

Daniel: “It's not going to work long-term.”

Feeling like some arbitration judge, I say, “But it puts it off for a bit. This is our plan—our only plan.”

Clinch. Clinch. Clinch. But he stops arguing.

It's six thirty. My pizza slice wasn't enough. I'm hungry again. “BeeVee for hamburgers? We need a break.” Before we kill each other.