Miranda felt like laughing at Griffin’s words warning her not to go after King alone. As if. As if she could leave this apartment without falling apart; as if she could look a stranger in the eye without becoming wrecked with panic; as if she had a tenth of the courage and strength he’d shown.
“You could have been killed,” she finally said. “Because of me.”
“We’re in this together.”
She bounced on her bed, pulling her quilt tighter around her, over her head, glad he couldn’t see her hiding under the covers like a baby afraid of the bogeyman.
“No. We’re not.” The words came out sharper than she’d intended, sounding like a rebuke.
He didn’t answer right away. “What do you mean?”
She didn’t like the fear edging his voice—especially as it would soon turn to disgust at her betrayal. He couldn’t be half as disgusted or ashamed of her actions as she was herself. Small comfort there. She wasn’t the one running for her life.
“I owe you the truth,” she said with a sigh. “I can’t come with my dad to help you. I can’t help you at all. I can’t even leave this apartment.”
He gasped. “You said King sent men to hurt your mom. Did he hurt you? Miranda—”
She closed her eyes, squeezed them tight against her shame. It would be so easy to let him think that. But he deserved to know everything. “No. No, that’s not it. I just can’t leave. That’s all.”
“I don’t understand.”
Neither did she. It wasn’t something she could think about or analyze, despite the help of her parents and Dr. Patterson. “I have something called agoraphobia. It’s Greek for ‘fear of the marketplace.’ In my case, it’s fear of everything and everyone outside my family and my apartment.”
“What happens if you leave?”
“I can’t. Not without having a panic attack—which usually leaves me curled up in a quivering ball on the floor, crying and slobbering. If King ever caught a picture of that, he’d love it.”
“Don’t talk like that,” he snapped.
She jerked up so fast the quilt dropped from her shoulders, leaving her exposed. She didn’t pull it back up—Griffin was more exposed than she was, safe here in her nice, warm bedroom.
“It’s not your fault,” he continued. “When did it start?”
She pulled in a deep breath. This part was the worst. “After the second time I tried to kill myself.”
“You tried to kill yourself?” He didn’t sound judgmental. More concerned.
“First time was after King sent those guys to hurt my mom. Second was after they went free and my dad almost got arrested. My folks, they’d lost everything because of me. I thought things would be better for everyone—”
“I told you not to talk like that. Miranda, you’re the strongest person I’ve ever met.”
“But you’ve never met me. You don’t know me at all.” Why was she arguing with him? She wasn’t sure, but it seemed important that he understood the depth of her treachery.
She hauled in a breath and continued, “When I figured out King lived near Smithfield, I manipulated my parents so my dad would take a job here. I hunted King’s victims in the hopes of finding one I could convince to confront King even though I’m too weak and cowardly to ever try myself. And then I found you. Jesse. Griffin. Both of you are stronger and more courageous and heroic than I can ever be. Standing up to your uncle the way you did—I’m so proud of you. And so very sorry that you’re in this trouble because of me and how selfish I was.”
“Selfish?”
“I don’t want King to just be caught. I want him humiliated. I want him to suffer half as much as I have—as all his victims. I even”—she gulped, tears burning her throat—“I even fantasized that I could make you kill him. For me. How sick and twisted is that? I’m sorry, Jesse. You deserve so much better than me. I’m a pathetic, selfish bitch.”
No stopping the tears now, she set the phone down long enough to wipe her face dry. He remained silent. Had she lost him?
Then his voice returned, a distant whisper. “I wanted to kill him too. Dreamed of it almost every night.”
• • •
I hold my breath, hugging myself not so much against the cold but against the chance that I might never hear Miranda’s voice again. Would she still believe I hadn’t killed my uncle after hearing me confess my darkest secret?
Her laughter sounded strange. Not the full-on laughter that had made me smile earlier today. This was tight, a high-wire act between laughing and crying. “What a pair we are.”
I blew my breath out in relief. “Do you think, I mean, when your father comes tomorrow—could I meet you? Before I turn myself in?”
Probably to spend the rest of my life in prison, I don’t add. Seemed like a bit of a downer when this was the closest thing to a date with a girl I might ever have.
“Of course,” she says. “I’d like that very much.”
Cool. Great. I have no clue what to say that won’t make me sound like an idiot. She can’t see it, but I’m grinning. Stupid crazy for someone in my position, but I can’t help it. That’s Miranda’s magic.
“We can still do it, you know,” I tell her. “Out King. I still have the recorder pen.”
“No. It’s too dangerous. Besides…” She hesitates.
“What?”
“It’s not the man I thought it was. Phreak426.”
“Are you sure?”
“My dad went to see him. Turns out he did work for Telenet, but he got hit by a car and is paralyzed, had a severe brain injury. He was in the hospital on my birthday two years ago.”
I’m disappointed but something nags at me. “Don’t you think it’s kind of weird that he works for Telenet and used a screen name that King used?”
“King probably stole it while the guy was in the hospital.”
“No. That was the first one he used with me. It would have been the year before King found you.”
There’s silence, but it’s the good kind. The kind that means Miranda’s brain is churning through the possibilities. “What if Kerstater—that’s the guy—discovered someone was using his screen name?”
“That someone being King. And then King—”
“Tried to kill him.” Excitement makes her voice bounce. “I was right about the Telenet connection, I had to have been. That would explain how he found you tonight.”
“Yeah. How did he do that? With the TVs and computers?”
“Telenet installed all the AV systems when the college updated everything. That’s why the arena is named after them—the price for their corporate sponsorship was getting the telecommunications contract for the college.”
“How do you know all this?”
“Are you kidding? I sit at home day and night obsessing about tracking the Creep down. Once I learned he was connected to Telenet, I learned everything I could about them.”
“King isn’t Kerstater, but someone else in Telenet’s IT department using his screen name?”
“The upgrade happened three years ago. It could be someone working with Kerstater then, and they planted a Trojan horse in the software, letting them control all the computers—the TVs are really just computer monitors as well.”
This was getting beyond my scope. “You found Kerstater. Can’t you get back into Telenet’s database and find anyone else who worked on the project?”
“I’m good, but I’m not that good. I found Kerstater through a LinkedIn profile that went to a public profile on the company’s HR page. It just was never taken down or updated after he got hit by the car.”
“Wait. My uncle said something about a guy hit by a car.” I strain to remember, but exhaustion has my brain so foggy I’m not even sure I can remember my own name.
“Let me pull it up on the video,” she says before I can admit that I’m not clear on the details. “Here it is. He said he tracked a phone number and address to a guy riding his bike and hit by a car. That’s Kerstater. But why would King use his real-life address as well as his screen name? That’s awfully lazy—and a sure way for a someone to find you sooner or later.”
“So maybe that’s how Kerstater found King. And it was when King was just starting out; he wasn’t as good at covering his tracks as he is now.” I can almost hear her frown, and I know there’s more to the puzzle.
“My dad said something. Hang on, I need to check—” She gasps.
“What? What did you find?” Adrenaline charges through me and I’m fully awake.
“Dad said he lives with his brother who’s his caretaker. Howard. Dad actually met him tonight—right before the fire at your house.”
“My uncle’s house,” I correct her automatically. “So this brother is also a computer expert?”
“Let me see what I can find on him.” The sound of computer keys clacking comes through the phone. I imagine her fingers flying over the keys like a magician casting a spell.
Finally she returns. “No, not IT or anything to do with computers. But Howard Kerstater does work for Telenet. In their human resource department.”
I think about it. “Human resources? He hires and fires people. That sounds like King. Power, control over people’s lives.”
“Not only that. Wouldn’t anyone in human resources also have access to credit reports and background checks, stuff like that? That would be perfect for King. He could decide which clients were vulnerable to his blackmail, who had the most money, know all their secrets.”
“You think your dad’s visit tipped him off? That’s why he killed my uncle?”
“I’m sorry, Jesse. I didn’t know.” The sound of keys tapping. Fast. “I can’t find anything else. If this guy is King, he’s covered his tracks.”
“Which means I’m the last loose end. What if he blackmails a cop or jail guard or someone to come after me after I turn myself in? What if he goes after Mom or Janey?” My voice sounds hollow as it echoes through the car. “I can’t protect them if I’m sitting in a jail cell.”