Calm down. I didn’t do anything. Stumbled on this pic and plenty more on a site I found. Deep web has some nasty corners. Imagine my surprise when I found HM in one of them. Why do you care, anyway?
The cursor blinked accusingly, punctuating Cole’s final sentence. Why did Janie care? She didn’t. Not about Heather Miller, anyway. She wasn’t even shocked. Beneath that golden-girl surface, Heather had a wild side. Janie had heard the girl was hooking up with Josh Ferin, who was a total loser with a rep for supplying any illegal substance anyone wanted. So, no, she wasn’t totally surprised by the picture.
Her reaction was rooted in something much more personal.
Look for yourself if you want. Maybe neither of us would be too sad if this pic went viral.
The message was followed by a web address. The text on the page began to delete under her gaze until only the image and address remained. Although she couldn’t look away, it wasn’t Heather Miller’s picture she was thinking about.
It was Kelsey’s.
“I’ve only got, like, an hour.” Alyvia Naughton bounded up the steps behind Janie and followed her through the bedroom door, flinging herself down onto Janie’s neatly made bed. “FPs are on my case big time, and with conferences next week, I need to do some serious sucking up because chances are they’ll be even less happy when they see my grades. That means spending the weekend with them visiting their relatives, who are even more boring than they are.”
FPs. Alyvia-speak for foster parents. Rarely did she call any of them by name. Janie slid her backpack off and set it on the desk. Maybe, she reflected as she flopped onto the futon next to it, Alyvia didn’t bother to learn names anymore. This had to be at least the seventh home she’d been placed in. The second in six months. “Still trying to ride it out until the end of the school year?”
Alyvia propped herself on an elbow facing Janie. “I have to. The caseworker warned me I’d go residential if this one didn’t work out.” She shrugged as though she didn’t care. Janie knew otherwise. “This place isn’t as bad as some. And it sounds like they’re getting another kid soon, so the focus will be off me for a while.” She folded her hands in false reverence. “Thank God.”
Janie smiled, for the first time in days feeling like a weight had lifted. Alyvia could do that for her. Her friend had been on a short leash lately since she’d skipped school to nurse a killer hangover at a friend’s. In some ways, the two of them were polar opposites. But since Kelsey died, Janie had often found herself feeling as adrift as Alyvia was, for far different reasons.
Kelsey. Thoughts of her sister had her smile vanishing.
“So I thought you were going to text me while you were in lockup.”
“No phones. Tried to e-mail you.” She gave her friend a condensed version of the events after school. When she got to the image Bogart had sent her of Heather Miller, Alyvia bolted upright on the bed.
“Are you kidding me? Heather Fucking Miller has nudies floating around on the Internet? Are they real or Photoshopped? Doesn’t matter,” she decided a moment later. “We can use them either way.”
“We aren’t using anything.” Janie knew that would be Alyvia’s first thought. “Although I get the feeling that’s exactly what Bogart wanted. To hurt Heather. And that he was trying to manipulate me into being the one to do it.”
Alyvia twirled a lock of her currently pink hair around an index finger. “Why would he? He’s the computer genius. You know he was kicked out last year for . . . oh.”
“Yeah, oh.” Janie leaned back and toed off her shoes. “He can’t afford to get caught for anything again. They can trace IPs where e-mails originate.” Although after his display this afternoon with her e-mail, she wasn’t so sure Bogart wasn’t capable of circumventing discovery.
“Just as a matter of discussion . . . all it would take is stealing someone’s phone to text the pic of the bitchacrite to a couple of guys, who could be counted on to share widely.” Something on Janie’s face must have warned her because she shrugged. “Just sayin’.”
“But see, he wouldn’t even have to do that. He can . . .” Unable to come up with the terminology, Janie waved a hand. “He was in my e-mail. I mean, he took it over and was writing to me on a message I started to you. He could do that from anyone’s account. Send the picture to the whole student body and make it look like it came . . . I don’t know, from Templeton, even.”
“And they’d know who had the skills to pull that off. Bogart would be the first they’d look at.”
The scorch of anger that had settled in her chest the moment she’d seen that image of Heather burned hotter now. “He’s an asshole.”
“Maybe.” Alyvia’s tone was contemplative. “He’s no fan of hers, apparently. You know, he got thrown out for changing grades last year. Do you think he changed some of hers?”
“Why would he, if he doesn’t like her? I’m sure they made the teachers double-check the grades after he was caught.”
“But how long had he been at it? How far back would they have looked? She might have been cheating to stay neck and neck with you academically all year.”
Janie contemplated her friend, all too aware of how her mind worked. “I’m not using the picture. And neither are you.”
“Fine.” Alyvia’s pout was quickly replaced by a calculating expression. “At least let me see the nudie.”
Figuring it was the least she could do after dashing the rest of her friend’s hopes, Janie got up and fetched her laptop from her book bag and turned it on. Joining her on the bed, she brought up her e-mail and showed her the photo, which Alyvia surveyed with a critical eye.
“Do you think that’s touched up? Because I have a hard time believing she can have an ass like that without working out. It’s been a year since she quit volleyball.”
Drolly, Janie responded. “I guess you’ve given it more thought than I have.”
Lifting a shoulder, her friend said, “It’s not as skanky as I was hoping for. Like something she took for Ferin. Or maybe he was the one behind the camera.”
“And then posted it on a site in the deep web?” Janie was skeptical. “He doesn’t strike me as tech-savvy enough to manage that.”
Alyvia’s cell chirped. She looked at it and rolled her eyes theatrically. “God almighty, I can hardly breathe. The FPs are yanking the chain already.” Rising, she added, “He could have sold the pics. He’s that much of a loser. Check out the site Bogart gave you.”