Tom dropped a ten on the counter. He followed Lange to the door, keeping a safe distance behind. Tom took a glance outside the restaurant’s front windows. He saw no detectable threats in the parking lot. Still, Tom maintained his careful watch over Lange.
Lange reached the parking lot and headed straight for a beige four-door Chevy Impala with New Hampshire plates. That car hadn’t been parked there before. Tom descended the restaurant’s concrete front steps at a relaxed pace. The night air blew a cool, refreshing breeze, but for some reason Tom couldn’t stop sweating.
Funny, I’m not nervous.
Lange climbed into his Impala and reached across to open the passenger-side door. He motioned for Tom to get in as well. Tom knew he shouldn’t have let Lange put his hands where he couldn’t see them. Why didn’t I react sooner? he wondered. Tom took a few cautious steps but stopped several feet shy of Lange’s vehicle. He was thinking it might be time to get his knife out again. “I’m not going anywhere with you,” he said. “We talk here and now.”
Lange got out of his car and approached Tom with his hands showing, fingers spread wide, and no weapons to be seen. Lange stopped within Tom’s striking distance. “Okay,” he said.
“What’s on the flash drive you gave me?” Tom asked.
“Nothing,” Lange said.
“What?” Tom put his hands to his temples. He felt light-headed.
“I said there’s nothing on that flash drive. I bought it at Staples right before I came over here. I can show you the receipt.”
Tom felt a buzzing in his head. The humlike vibration covered his entire scalp and seemed to seep underneath his skin. The tingling intensified. His vision didn’t seem all that clear, either.
“How are you feeling, Tom?”
Tom’s knees buckled beneath him, and Lange moved in quickly to keep him upright. Tom’s limbs felt loose and rubbery. Lange, with his arm draped around Tom, walked him over to the Impala. Tom felt too weak to resist. His tongue swelled inside his mouth, choking off the airway.
“What did you do to me?” Tom demanded to know.
Only, his speech came out thick, garbled, and barely intelligible to himself.
Lange shoved Tom into his car. “I haven’t done anything to you,” he said. “Yet.”
Tom heard the car door slam. His vision continued to blur and kept on blurring, too, until it went completely dark.
Chapter 48
Lindsey sat cross-legged on her bed and glared at her new cell phone. She pushed some buttons on the phone’s keyboard, heard some beeps, but frowned at the display. Jill sat on the bed behind Lindsey and laughed when her friend shook the phone.
“It’s not an Etch A Sketch,” Jill said.
“I don’t want to have to learn military time,” Lindsey snarled. “I want this stupid thing to display hours and minutes like a normal phone.”
Jill giggled at her friend’s frustration.
“Don’t just laugh at me,” Lindsey said. “Help me fix the stupid thing.”
“And then can we get back to studying for our test?”
Jill pushed a few keys and seconds later had the phone’s display the way Lindsey had wanted it. Jill showed Lindsey her repair job.
“You always were a smart one,” Lindsey said. She took the phone from Jill and, with a flick of her wrist, launched it into the air. The phone traveled across the room and landed harmlessly on top of a jumbled pile of clothes that Lindsey had left on the floor. Lindsey flopped down on her bed, and Jill did the same. The girls looked up at a poster of Dartmouth College, which Lindsey had tacked to her bedroom ceiling.
“Do you think you’ll go there?” Jill asked.
Lindsey kept her eyes fixed on the poster and didn’t turn her head to look at Jill. “I don’t know,” Lindsey said. “I’d like to. Remember that guy who came to speak to our class about colleges? He had tape on his glasses.”
Jill laughed and pulled herself up to a seated position. She turned her head to look down at Lindsey, who was still lying on her back. “Yeah. Like from eighth grade. So?”
“So, that’s the reason I’ve had this poster hanging here for—oh, I don’t know. Since then, I guess. That guy said that something like eighty percent of the kids who hang up the poster of where they want to go college end up going to that school.”
Jill nodded. “Yeah, I think I remember hearing him saying that.”
“My father wants me to go there,” Lindsey said. “Doubt I can get a soccer scholarship now. I doubt I’ll be able to get in anyplace with this nightmare following me around.”
Jill had been gazing up at the poster with a look of hope on her face. In a second, that hopeful look turned into one of despair.
“Want to see what one of the witches texted me?” Jill asked.
Lindsey nodded. Jill handed Lindsey her cell phone. Lindsey read the messages and covered her mouth to show her disgust.
“Did you let Principal Osborne read these? They could get expelled for that.”
“Are you kidding? No. Best way to handle the witches is to ignore them. It’ll blow over.”
“Well, why do you think I got a new cell phone?” Lindsey said. “Too many nasty text messages. No more Facebook for me, either. People were posting the most horrible things.”
“They’re all just a bunch of bitches,” Jill said.
“Big, bitchy witches,” Lindsey agreed.
The girls shared a laugh. Then the mood turned serious again.
“Jill, I’m glad that you believe me,” Lindsey said. “I’m glad you don’t think I did what they’re saying.”
“That FBI lady convinced me. Now I know that it’s possible to make it look like you had,” said Jill.
“Who do you think sent around those Facebook friend requests?”
“You mean, Fidelius Charm? Who knows. But I bet it’s the same person who wrote the blog posts.”
“Has it been weird not living at home?” Lindsey asked.
Jill shrugged. “It’s been fun living with Flo and Irena, I guess. They’ve been cool to me. But I miss my home. I miss my bed. I’m thinking about going back there. I mean, what if my dad’s been set up, too? I know I’ve told you, like, a million times all the things my mom said about him, but I never got creepy, evil vibes from him. I mean, child pornography? That’s so sick.”
“But why are they setting me up?” Lindsey asked. “Who are they trying to ruin—me or him?”
Jill glanced down at her fingernails and began to nervously chip away at the red polish there. “You know how I’ve been hanging around with Mitchell Boyd?” Jill said. Lindsey shot Jill a look that said, “I’m your best friend, stupid,” as she pushed herself up and off the bed. “I’m wondering if Mitchell is somehow involved.”
Lindsey whirled around to look at Jill. “Why would you think that?”
“I don’t know,” Jill said. “He started acting nice to me right after my dad got in trouble. And then my dad had that major freak-out at the Spot. He told me that he and Mr. Boyd had some sort of falling-out and that I wasn’t allowed to see Mitchell anymore.”
“What do you think it could be?” said Lindsey.
“I dunno,” Jill said.
“You think Mitchell is somehow helping out his father?”
Jill thought a moment and nodded. “I mean, Mitchell’s dad is unbelievably rich, but Mitchell is always complaining his father won’t give him anything. He says he has to earn it, because that’s what his dad did. Maybe Mitchell’s dad is paying him, and that’s how Mitchell got that Mustang. Everybody’s been wondering where he came up with the cash for the car.”
“Mitchell’s not that smart with computers. Is he?”