His promises scare me.
He always gets what he wants.
—Page 34 of Tessa Waye’s diary
When I find you, you’ll bleed for that.
Well, hello, Marcus Starling. I stare at the screen, wavering between excited and spooked. There are no other comments from Marcus, but there are plenty from Tessa’s other friends. Matthew Bradford called us both “freaks.” Holly Davis says, “Whoever hacked Tessa’s page will go to hell for this stuff.” There’s more, of course. Everyone knows Tessa’s account has been compromised, but they’re assuming it’s been hacked by a nasty classmate. This could work to my advantage . . . as long as the Wayes or the police don’t report the page as being compromised.
“Are you the one who posted on Tessa’s wall? That comment about knowing who killed me?”
I look up, catch Lauren staring at me from across the room.
“Is that what you wanted to talk about?” I ask.
“I don’t understand why you did it. When I said you had to do something—”
“I did. I tracked down who sent me Tessa’s diary.”
Lauren’s face creases in confusion. “What?”
“It was Tessa’s little sister, Tally. She found the diary, read it, and contacted me. Tessa was involved with some guy—I don’t know who, but I think he was older—and when she tried to break it off . . . it turned violent.”
Lauren puts one hand on my bed to steady herself, but her knees keep pressing toward the floor.
“It gets worse,” I continue. “Tessa wrote about the guy in her diary, and even though she never used his name, she did name someone else he wanted, his next target—”
I know this part so well it should be easy. Lily’s name is living under my tongue, but I end up having to rip it out of myself.
“It’s . . . Lily, Lauren. He named Lily. She’s next.” I tilt my computer screen in Lauren’s direction. She hesitates, then comes to join me. “I’ve been trying to run down Tessa’s inner circle—figure out who he might be—and when I looked through her Facebook friends, everyone seemed legit.
“Except for this guy.” I point at Marcus Starling’s avatar. “He has no other friends but Tessa. It’s a fake profile picture, a fake name. I think he could be our guy.”
“He sounds way pissed, Wick. Could he really find you?”
“No, I logged in as Tessa. There’s no way he could know who I am.”
Then why are goose bumps still climbing up my arms?
“But what if someone tells the police? Could it get tracked back to you?”
“No, I used a secure IP address. Worst case, they’re going to think it’s cyberbullying and delete the account.”
We both spend another minute rereading the message, and for the first time, I notice the time stamp. It’s barely twenty minutes after I posted my message. Good. I can use that. Hacking is all about knowing your code and programs, but it’s also about knowing your prey. Marks with high emotions are often the easiest to hack. They can make themselves vulnerable. The right email, the right phone call, the right touch can push them in the direction you want.
But how do I keep pushing him?
“I guess I just . . . I just don’t get why you threw it up there like that.” Lauren pulls her thumbnail from her mouth and gestures at the screen with a half-chewed finger. “‘I know who killed me.’ It’s kind of, I don’t know, inflammatory. It isn’t just Tessa’s attacker who’s going to get upset. What about her mom?”
I think of Mrs. Waye’s cracked smile and wince . . . then I think of Mr. Waye’s fists, and I cringe. “It’ll be horrible, but she’ll think it’s some cruel kid showing off. Lauren, if I make him angry, he’ll be easier to find.”
“Or you could go to the police. What if you took all this to them?”
“One of the detectives—his name’s Carson—might be involved. He kept waiting outside their house. Tally’s suspicious.”
“Are you?”
“Yeah . . . Carson’s shown up here too. I think he’s dirty. He might even have something to do with it.”
Lauren sits down hard on my floor, watches me with a kind of horrified wonder.
“Even if I did give them the diary, it wouldn’t help. It doesn’t name the rapist. It will focus them in the wrong direction, and they’ll be chasing their tails. Trust me, I know this stuff. I’m usually the one they’re chasing.” I run both hands through my hair, rubbing my scalp until I’m sure I look like I stuck my tongue in a toaster.
I look at Lauren. “Do you know how many times my mom called the cops about my dad? A bunch. Ten times? Twelve? Even after she slapped him with a restraining order, he still didn’t stop. He’d beat the hell out of us, steal her paycheck, and disappear again. There’s some evil that can’t be caught by playing by the rules.”
I expect to see denial in Lauren’s expression, but her chin lifts. “Yeah, the police play by the rules, and this guy won’t.”
“Exactly. If Lily’s going to be saved, it’s up to me.”