I agreed. Even the few I read could have made a porn star blush. To say that to anyone, especially a thirteen-year-old.
“He started threatening to hurt me. Like, one time at school, we were eating lunch and he knew I was wearing a dress. He threatened…” She swallowed hard. “He threatened to cut off my legs if I spread them any farther. He called me a slut and said he could see my wet panties.”
I stilled. I hadn’t gotten that far. I turned to Ubie. “How did he get her number?”
“He even watches her at school,” Cookie said to him.
He was still scrolling through texts. “It could be anyone,” he said a microsecond before he stormed out again.
He came back in with his own phone and began making calls.
“Amber, why didn’t you tell us?” I asked her.
She leaned back into her chair. “I couldn’t. That’s all.”
The look on Cookie’s face was one part astonishment, two parts determination. “That’s not good enough, missy. I want an explanation.”
I put a hand on her arm. I’d never heard her call Amber missy before. It was out of character.
“You were in New York, anyway,” Amber continued, growing defensive. “I didn’t want you to worry.”
“Worry me? Amber, I can’t believe you didn’t tell me.”
“I’m sorry, Mom.”
Uncle Bob raised his voice. “Now. I need it now.”
“I would block the number,” Amber added, “but then he would text me from a different number. Like every day he had a new number.”
“Why don’t we just change Amber’s number?” Cookie asked.
“And worry for the next year, if not longer, if he will come after her? Cook, these texts are brutal and violent. They may very well be from your everyday neighborhood stalker. The kind who never comes face-to-face with his victim. Completely harmless.” I was lying through my teeth. No stalker was ever completely harmless. There were always ramifications. “But we need to be sure.” I looked at Amber. “Did Quentin know?”
She shook her head. “No. I was afraid he would tell”—she shot a glance at Uncle Bob from under her glasses—“Mom.”
Uncle Bob had stilled. He’d continued scrolling through texts while he was on the phone. He stopped and stared at one, then whirled around to Amber.
She looked down. Pulled the knee of her good leg to her chest. Squeezed Reyes’s hand.
“Is this why you didn’t say anything?” Ubie asked, furious. When Amber didn’t say anything, he yelled, “Amber!”
I stood. “Uncle Bob, that is enough.” I took the phone from him.
“Not at first,” Amber said. “I was being stupid, worried you’d take my phone away if I told you, but then—”
She had texted the stalker back after a particularly nasty message, writing, My stepdad is a detective. He will find you if you don’t stop.
The stalker’s next text was possibly the most chilling: Don’t you ever threaten me, you bitch. The day that pig finds out is the day his throat is cut. The next seven texts were pictures of Uncle Bob, either at work, at Calamity’s, or in front of the apartment building, getting out of his SUV. The guy had clearly done his homework.
Uncle Bob went back to his phone. “I don’t need a warrant. This man is threatening my daughter. My. Daughter. Do it. Now.”
He hung up and curled his fingers around his phone in anger. “I have tech getting every text to and from this number and running traces. If he’s been texting you from different numbers, chances are he’s using burners, but even then there’s a chance we can trace them to the store where they were—”
He stopped talking when Amber jumped up and tackle-hugged him. He stood stunned for a minute, then wrapped her in his arms, stroking her hair and kissing the top of her head. “You are the bravest girl I’ve ever met,” he said to her.
She shook her head. “I wasn’t brave. I was so scared. He said he’d kill you.”
“I’m not going anywhere, smidgeon.”
Reyes and I exchanged secretive glances, then he stood and started cleaning the urgent care center.
“I was so worried about Robert,” Cookie said softly, the inevitable guilt setting in. “I completely missed this.”
I patted her hand. “Yes, yes. You’re the worst parent since Joan Crawford. Thank God you have me, because I have a plan.”
Ubie looked over at me. “Your plans rarely end well.”
“What?” I scoffed, waved him off, then turned to my homey. “What say you? Do we go after this guy?”
Cookie drew in a deep, shaky breath. “I say yes, absolutely, but I think it’s ultimately up to Amber.”
“Since she’ll be the bait?”
Her eyes rounded in horror. “Bait?”
“Didn’t I mention that?”
13
Some days I just stay inside because it feels too peopley out there.
—TRUE FACT