Taylor huddled in the corner of the sofa of her living room, hugging her legs. Her forehead rested on her knees. She’d been curled into a fetal position ever since she’d arrived, after running all the way home from Barton Middle School.
She needed to see her mom. But she waited in a state of panic and dread, wondering how she could possibly explain.
When she heard the garage door open, rattling in its tracks, Taylor braced herself. A moment later, her mother’s footsteps clattered across the kitchen floor. She was wearing heels. It must have been a court day.
The moment she’d been shrinking away from, out of cowardice and fear, had arrived at last. Taylor lifted her head and met her mother’s eyes as Breeon strode into the room.
Taylor was determined not to cry. When she’d broken her left arm on the basketball court in seventh grade, she hadn’t shed a tear. But the sight of her mother’s face broke her resolve.
A massive sob shook her chest, and her voice came out in a wail. “Mama.”
Breeon launched across the rug, landing on the spot beside Taylor, and clutched her to her chest. Taylor could feel her mother’s heart beating fast, and the sensation comforted her, like when she was a little girl in her mother’s arms.
She tried to speak. “I did something bad,” she said; but her throat swelled up, and she couldn’t continue.
Breeon rocked her back and forth as they sat on the couch. After a moment, she pressed her cheek on the top of Taylor’s head.
“Baby, we’re going to get through this. But you have to tell me what happened.”
Taylor squeezed her eyes shut, uncertain where to begin. Her misdeeds loomed like monsters overhead; how could she explain?
When she didn’t speak, Breeon prompted her. “Detective Ashlock called. He said that his son saw pictures of you on an iPad.”
Taylor’s eyes burned. The thought of Ashlock seeing the pictures filled her with shame. “Oh God,” she whispered.
“Tell me, honey. Who took the pictures?”
“I can’t.”
The arms that held Taylor tightened. Her mother’s voice was close to her ear, and she spoke with unshakeable resolve.
“You have to, Taylor. It can’t wait.”
“I don’t remember.”
Breeon released Taylor from the tight embrace. With strong fingers, she lifted Taylor’s chin, forcing the girl to meet her gaze.
“Baby, you’ve been hiding things from me. That stops now.”
The tears flowed again, making Taylor’s throat hurt. “But I don’t remember any pictures. Not of me. He took pictures of Desiree, but I just sat on the other bed. I went to sleep, I think.”
Taylor buried her face in Breeon’s shoulder, wetting the fabric of her mother’s jacket with tears and mucous from her running nose. When she felt Breeon’s hand stroke her back, the sensation gave her the strength to speak again.
“Tony wanted me to wear red underwear and audition, but I didn’t want to. It felt weird. And he gave me a cherry drink, and I told him I don’t drink alcohol. Mom, you know I don’t.”
Breeon’s voice was reassuring. “I know.”
“And it made me sleepy. And then Dede drove us back to Denny’s later. It was really late, and I didn’t feel good. I told Desiree I didn’t want to model for them anymore.”
She peeked up at her mother’s face. Breeon’s expression scared her, it was so fierce. But when she spoke, her mother’s voice was calm and low.
“Taylor, the police need to find Desiree. She’s been missing for five days.”
“It was a hotel. I don’t know where; I wouldn’t lie about that. If I knew where she was, I’d have told. Des is my friend.”
“I know that. She is.” Breeon settled back on the couch, circling Taylor with her left arm, stroking her hair.
Breeon said, “That’s what I don’t understand. You knew Des was missing, that she was in trouble with bad people. And you didn’t tell everything you knew. Not to Detective Ashlock. Not even to me.”
There it was, Taylor thought. The monster in the closet.
Taylor had wrestled with guilt and fear in the past week. At night, she would lie awake in bed, her eyes wide in the darkness, her chest tight with panic. During the day, she lived in dread of her cell phone’s ring. And the worst part was keeping the secret. That, and telling the lies.
Taylor drew a shaky breath. She avoided her mother’s eye.
“I wanted to tell you. But I couldn’t.”
Bree’s voice grew sharp. “Don’t play with me, Taylor.”
“I couldn’t,” she insisted. “You don’t understand.”
Breeon shifted on the sofa, putting distance between them. “Then explain it to me. Tell me, so that I can understand.”
It felt like a rock had lodged in Taylor’s throat. She tried to swallow it down, but it remained.
“He wanted me to come back, but I said no. I told him my mom wouldn’t let me.”
A ghost of a smile crossed Breeon’s face. She lifted her brow, a sign that Taylor should continue.
“And Des wanted me to go back, with her. On Sunday. But I said no way. That it creeped me out when we went the first time.”
Breeon broke in. “Baby, that doesn’t explain why you misled Ashlock. And me.”
Frustration made Taylor cover her face, rubbing her eyes so hard it hurt. “He wouldn’t give up.”
“What?”
“Tony. He had my phone number. He kept bugging me.”
“Taylor, what are you trying to say? What did he do?”
The dam burst. “He showed me the pictures. The ones of me. He texted them to me over the phone. He said if I didn’t come back with Des, he’d do something I wouldn’t like.”
She saw awareness dawning in her mother’s face. “I see.”
Taylor’s voice dropped to a whisper, even though she and her mom were alone at home, in their own living room.
“I still wouldn’t go back. So, he told me that if I told anybody about him—my folks, or friends, or teachers, or cops—he’d send the pictures to everybody I knew. Post them on my Facebook page. Send them to you.”
Her voice dropped so low, it was barely audible. “Send them to Dad.”
A mighty sigh escaped Breeon’s chest. “The man blackmailed you.”
Taylor looked up at her mother, confused. “Isn’t blackmail where somebody makes you give them money?”
“Sometimes. But there are things more valuable than money. A blackmailer can control people in other ways.”
Taylor hung her head. “I didn’t know what to do. I was scared. Ashamed. And I couldn’t ask you about it. Because if I did, Tony would post the pictures.”
Breeon seized her hand, and they sat quietly for a moment. A thought occurred to Taylor. She looked up.
“Mom, one thing I don’t get. How did the pictures show up on Greg Branson’s dad’s iPad? Because I did what Tony told me to do. I kept quiet about him. He said if I kept my mouth shut, there wouldn’t be any trouble.”
“Some people can’t be trusted, baby. The man is dangerous. A criminal. A predator. There are websites that buy and show bad pictures and videos; but they can’t just be accessed by a simple internet search; that’s why it can be hard for the police to find them. There are some dark webs on the internet that can only be accessed through peer-to-peer file sharing. Bad people set them up; and other sick people will pay to look. Your images ended up on one of those, and Greg ran across it on his dad’s iPad.”
“So Greg looked me up on a bad website?”
“Oh no, honey. Not Greg. His dad, most likely.”
Breeon stood, extending her hand to Taylor. Taylor took it, and her mother pulled her to her feet.
“We need to get in the car, Tay-Tay. We have an appointment, and it’s almost time.”
Taylor tensed. She didn’t recall anything about an appointment scheduled on their calendar.
“With who?”
Breeon stood erect, and braced Taylor with an arm around her shoulder.
“With Detective Ashlock. And an FBI agent.”