One Tiny Secret

Chapter Thirty

By Monday morning, I’ve been awake for almost two full days. I find that every time I close my eyes in an attempt to sleep, all I see is Janice’s body, causing me to wake up.

My eyes are heavy and strained as I stare out my window at the early morning rain falling outside. Not only haven’t I slept, but eating is becoming an issue as well. I can’t keep anything down. My system is totally out of whack, and the tremendous stress I’m under definitely isn’t helping.

My dad and his deputies are still searching for Kevin, but I know they won’t find him until Unknown wants him found. I’ve completely given up on convincing my father to listen to me. Even after he talked with Parker, things didn’t get any better. In fact, things managed to get worse, which could be directly related to my stubbornness over the whole Parker situation.

I groan as I stare down at the cheap little flip phone my dad gave me to use from here on out. It’s an old deputy phone that has a tracking chip in it and can only perform the basic functions. He’s the only one who has the number. My other phone is stuffed in a plastic bag somewhere at the station. They’re holding onto it to see if they can find any trace of the evidence Parker backed up with his statement.

I don’t even want to get dressed for school today. The fact that I haven’t picked out my clothes to wear echoes that sentiment. I find it funny that Dad thinks I’ll be safe at school.

A knock at the door ushers in my father. “Dani, you better hurry up or you’ll be late.”

“I’m not going,” I reply, still gazing out my window at the puddles of rain forming in the yard. I’m still pissed at him for cheap-shotting Parker. I know he feels it was justified, but I don’t think it was. He did apologize to me, but I wasn’t the one who deserved that apology.

“Why do you have to make everything so difficult? Being at school will be good for you. It will keep your mind occupied until all of this blows over.”

I laugh hollowly. “You have no idea what’s good for me. Do you realize this will be the first day I won’t see Mr. Whitman at school? And that’s just the first thing on a list of shitty things that I’ll experience if I go.”

“I’m sorry about that, but you can’t hide from your problems, Dani. They have ways of coming back to bite you in the ass,” he replies, which only makes me turn and glare at him.

“I guess I learned from the best, huh?”

He doesn’t appear to have some snappy comeback. He just stands there looking at me. Eventually, he says, “Come on…get dressed. You need to get going.” Then he shuts the door before I can argue.



This is the moment I’ve been dreading all day. I stand in front of Mr. Whitman’s office and stare at the nameplate resting in a little metal frame on the door. Running my fingers across the embossed letters, my chin begins to tremble and an ache pulses within my chest. I didn’t go to my independent study this morning for obvious reasons, so this is the first time I’ve been in front of this door all day.

I had a meeting with the principal earlier about the state of the newspaper. He’s decided to put the whole project on hiatus for the time being until he can find a replacement for Mr. Whitman. When I asked what would happen to Parker, he mentioned that he had already dropped out of the program. I wasn’t really surprised by his answer. It was really a relief. Now I wouldn’t have to worry about bumping into him today.

I reach out to grab the door handle and shiver when the cool metal touches my skin. Turning it, I pull the door open and stand there at the threshold, scanning the familiar space. The first step inside is the hardest. I slowly make my way over to his desk and run my fingers across the smooth, cherry oak wood finish, remembering all the laughs and discussions Mr. Whitman and I shared during my independent study. I was lucky to have a teacher like him in my life. He had believed in me and in my writing so much.

The moment I get misty-eyed, I sit down in one of the two chairs in front of the desk. For a moment, I pretend he’s sitting in his chair, leaning back with his hands resting on his chest, letting out a jolly chuckle. Somehow, I manage to smile through the tears.

“Dani?” a familiar male’s voice asks behind me.

Sitting up and turning around, I see Parker standing there in the doorway. “Hi.”

“Sorry, I saw the door was open and—”

“What are you doing here, Parker?” I interrupt.

He sighs. “I had a few things I needed to return to the newspaper office.”

“Oh.”

“Hey, about what happened the other night, I—”

I cut him off again. “Just stop. I don’t want anything to ruin this moment, okay? I’m finally dealing with some things, and I need some space.”

Before he has a chance to reply, a melodic chime fills the room. It definitely isn’t my phone. Parker groans while removing his cell from his pants pocket. The expression he sends my way after looking at the screen fills me with concern.

“What is it?”

“A message from an unknown number,” he replies, moving closer to show me.

I take the phone from his hand. “What? Why is he sending you a message?”

“I don’t know.”

I focus on the phone and read the text out loud. “You might want to check dearly departed Mr. Whitman’s top left desk drawer.”

The moment I finish reading the message, Parker moves over to the left drawer.

“Should I open it?” he asks with reluctance.

“No. It’s just another mind f*ck courtesy of Unknown. And frankly, I’m over it.” I place his phone on top of the desk and slide it over to him.

The phone chimes again as it sits in the middle of the desk. Parker reaches out and snatches it up, bringing it in front of his face.

“The text says that I really should open the drawer,” he says and flashes me a look of worry. “How the hell does this guy know what we’re doing?”

“I’ve stopped trying to figure that out,” I respond in a defeated tone. “You better open the drawer. He only becomes more persistent if you ignore him.”

I watch as Parker slowly pulls open the drawer. A look of confusion appears on his face.

“Well, what’s in there?”

He draws out a manila folder and holds it up for me to see. “It’s full of undeveloped photos. Shit, the light,” he says, snapping the folder closed. “Light ruins undeveloped pictures.”

“I think that’s only sunlight,” I comment.

“Oh, right.”

“Either way, I think we need to get those developed.”

“I thought you said you were over Unknown,” he quips while moving around to the front of the desk.

“So I’m fickle. Sue me,” I reply, taking the folder from his hands. “Doesn’t Phoebe know how to do this whole process?”

It’s like an epiphany hits him. “Yeah, she does. And she told me she’d be in the darkroom for a little while after school.”

“I don’t like how so coincidental this all is right now.”

“You’re right. It does seem off. But don’t you want to know what’s in these pictures? They could give us answers,” he says, tapping on the folder.

“This a*shole is really not one for giving answers—just more puzzles.”

“Well, there’s only one way to find out, right?”

“Can’t you see he’s just f*cking with us? Nothing good will come of this, I can promise you,” I reply in a harsh whisper, shoving the folder into his hands.

“What else are you going to do? It’s obvious we can’t run from this, and doing nothing will only end up getting someone else hurt. We have to play along if we want any chance of catching this bastard,” Parker argues. I see the fear in his eyes, but I can also tell it’s giving him strength. “I know things are really f*cked up between us right now, but I told you we’re in this together, no matter what.”

He holds out the folder like a handshake, waiting for an agreement. I take the folder from him and a nervous smile shows on his mouth.

“Okay, let’s play.”

We move down the hall and through the double doors at the end of it, leading into the next section of the building. Rounding the corner into the right hallway, I see Phoebe standing outside the production lab, locking up.

“Phoebe, we need your help,” I call out while running up to her.

She freezes and stops turning the key in the doorknob when she looks over at us in confusion. “Okay…what do you need my help with, exactly?”

“We have some pictures that need to be developed,” Parker interjects over my shoulder.

“Can’t this wait ’til tomorrow? I’m kind of nauseous from the fumes in there,” she replies, finishing locking the door.

“This is very important, Phoebe. It can’t wait,” I insist.

She sends both of us a suspicious look. “What’s this all about?”

Parker places his hand on her shoulder. “We’ll explain later, okay? But now we need to get these developed.”

Phoebe looks dubiously at both of us again, but then turns the key that’s still in the door, opening it. “All right, follow me. Dark room is in the back,” she says, moving into the room.

When we enter the dark room, Phoebe flips a switch, bathing everything in deep red light. “So, where are these pictures of yours?” she asks after Parker shuts us in the small room.

I hand the folder over to her and she begins removing them one by one. She lays them out on the table behind her in the empty space next to a few trays full of liquid. She snaps on a pair of rubber gloves and places safety glasses over her eyes.

She picks up the first photo, but then stops. Turning to look at us, she says, “Before I go through with this, I’d like a little more explanation on why these pictures are so important.”

“Phoebe, just trust us when we say it’s important,” I reply.

“So, let me get this straight. You have no idea what’s on these, yet they’re important?” she asks.

“Yes,” Parker and I say.

“Okay, okay. I get it. It’s important. I’ll get on it,” she replies with a slight laugh.