“Because I’ll hang out on the road across from the driveway. Pretend I’m on the phone or something. And if I see a cop, I’ll call you. Put your phone on vibrate.”
She looked at her friend. Alyvia shrugged, as if to say, why not? So Janie obeyed, even though she wasn’t certain she wanted to give him another way to contact her. Which made her a bitch because she was the one who’d asked him for a favor, and he hadn’t hesitated before agreeing to it. “Thanks for doing this.”
Cole nodded and finished punching the number into his phone before looking up again. “What time are you meeting him?”
“Five thirty.” They’d had to make it early so Alyvia’s story of a group-project meeting at the library would appease her foster parents.
“There’s no heat or electricity in the cabin, so he must be bringing in his own sources. I think you’ll be okay. He’s probably a perv, but with two of you there, you should be safe enough. And if you aren’t out after an hour, I’ll come to the door.”
“Hear that, Janie?” Alyvia took a last drag of their shared cigarette before grinding it out in the ashtray. “Our own personal white knight.”
“You don’t have to do that.” Because the words sounded rude even to her ears, she added, “But thanks.”
“Yeah.” He put his phone away and picked up two pieces of equipment. “Which one of you am I going to wire with this thing?”
“Pull your car up on the other side of the garage.” It was the only greeting that Newman gave when he came up to their vehicle. “It’ll be out of sight that way. Follow me. You can park next to mine.”
“Sort of bossy for a daytime school janitor,” Alyvia grumbled after Janie buzzed the window up again.
“He’s obviously been here before.” Janie waited for the man to pull ahead. The semicircle drive was unpaved, so it had been difficult to know if she was even on it as she’d crept up toward the house. The drive was hemmed with trees and overgrown brush, but without their leaves, they’d provide little cover. The house was far enough from the road, though, that it would take a good eye to see a car parked out front in the dark.
“Who hasn’t? In the summer, we usually head over by boats. Party on the little beach out back. That way if the cops show up, we can be halfway across the lake before they even get down to us.”
Janie pulled up alongside the man’s car. Once again Newman came over to her window. “I’m going to haul in equipment. Here.” He handed Janie a flashlight. “Once I get the door open, you can come in, but stay out of the way until I get things set up.”
She waited for him to go back to his vehicle and start unloading things from his trunk. Then she turned to Alyvia. “Let’s go over this one more time.”
Her friend threw herself back against the seat theatrically. “Again? Janie, we’ve practiced every scenario until my brain hurts. I know our stories.”
Fingers clenching and unclenching on the steering wheel, Janie drew in a breath. Then another. But deep breathing alone wasn’t going to quell her anxiety. Not this time. “Please.”
“Okay, fine.” As the man made his first trek to the front porch carrying a heavy suitcase in one hand, Alyvia launched into the stories they’d rehearsed and refined repeatedly since Janie had hatched this idea. The familiar lines provided a measure of calm that the breathing hadn’t. They’d thought of everything. Picking up the light, she looked at her friend. “Ready?”
Alyvia wasted no time once Newman had arranged the space to his satisfaction. “First, I want head shots. I’m going to send them to some modeling agencies. I heard there’s a big demand for alternative looks. You know, piercings, dyed hair, tats.” She beamed a big smile at him. “That’s right up my alley.”
The room they were in must have once been a den. Like the large space they’d entered once inside the door, it had a huge stone fireplace on one wall, but empty bookcases covered two of the others. The spotlights he’d brought were situated in a way that made Janie figure he was going to use the blank wall next to the door as a backdrop. She inched over to the fireplace and sat on the stone step before it, her fingers brushing over the pocket with the tiny recorder inside. Cole had seemed sort of disappointed when they determined there was no need for the earpiece and transmitter. Janie had a feeling that he just wanted to play with the equipment. They’d tried out the recorder, though, and it would suit their purposes just fine. She slipped a hand into her coat pocket. Switched it on.
“Yeah, yeah, the punk look is totally popular right now. I actually could show the shots we take to an agency I’m associated with. They might be able to get you a gig as a tattoo or piercing model.”
“Yeah?”
Janie shivered. The propane heaters he’d set up on either side of the fireplace hadn’t yet made a dent in the temperature. Newman seemed not to feel the cold. He’d slipped out of his parka and was busy taking pieces out of a suitcase. Screwing them into his camera.
“Yeah. It’s a niche market, but last year one of the girls I put in touch with them got some good gigs as a goth model. A bunch of her pics are on stock-photo sites.” Janie wondered if the girl was also on the site Cole had found on the deep web. “But it’s not enough to just have the right look. You have to have unique photos that catch their eye. That’s where I come in.”
“So how does this deal work?” Newman brought up a camera and snapped an impromptu shot of Alyvia as she slipped her coat off. She pouted. Posed. He took another. When he lowered it, Alyvia went on. “I mean, how do I make money off this gig? Can I get paid for these pictures?”
She was sticking to the script. Janie’s chest eased slightly. And being her friend, Alyvia hadn’t even inquired too closely about Janie’s insistence on this line of questioning.
“You mean for these shots? Probably not. You make your money once the talent agency puts you in touch with clients that hire you as a model. Strike another pose.” Alyvia obeyed, and the camera began to click and hum as he began to photograph her. “The agent is in touch with top advertising agencies and fashion designers. They’ll line up casting calls for you. You’ll get hired for jobs and make a bundle.”
Which was a line of bull if Janie had ever heard one. The thought of Herb Newman having any contact with a modeling agency was as far-fetched as her agreeing to a singing and dancing routine in the school talent show. Then the full import of his words hit her. If no money changed hands for the pictures, where had Kelsey gotten $1,000? According to this man, she would have had to accept a modeling job in order to get paid.
Doubt crept in. When would Kelsey have had time for that? And how would she have gotten to the job location without their mom taking her?
“That’s good. I like money.”