Missing You

“She hasn’t,” I assured him, and set down my boxes as Chigger, who’d been sleeping on the couch next to my dad (a definite no-no, in Mom’s book), jumped up to give me a lick before settling down again.

“What have you got there?” my dad asked, curious.

“Amateur pornos,” I said.

My dad raised his eyebrows. “Interesting. I assume you brought them down here to watch them.”

“Just to see if they’re for home use or distribution.”

“There’s a difference?”

“Well, one’s protected under the First Amendment,” I said. “The other is a crime if the girls are underage and didn’t know they were being filmed.”

“Actually, if they’re underage, I think they’re both crimes,” Dad said. He lifted his remote and turned off the cable. “Be my guest. I assume it would be highly inappropriate if I stuck around to keep you company.”

“Not at all,” I said, inserting the first tape—markedTIFFANY . “Since I’m just going to watch the beginning to see if they’re all the same or all different.”

“Well, then,” Dad said, “if you don’t mind, I’ll stay. I don’t get to spend much quality time with you these days—”

I watched as a young girl I assumed was Tiffany—wearing only a bra and panties—flung herself across a bed I recognized as the one in Apartment 1S.

“—though I’m not sure this is exactly what Dr. Phil means when he encourages fathers to spend more time bonding with their daughters,” Dad went on.

A man who was unmistakably Randy Whitehead appeared on screen, wearing a pair of tighty-whities. Before anything untoward could occur, I ejected the tape, and inserted the next one titledTIFFANY .

“May I ask where you got these masterpieces of modern cinema,” Dad wanted to know, “and who that young man might be? He looks familiar.”

“He should,” I said, pressingPLAY . “He’s Randy Whitehead Junior.”

“Son of wealthy land developer Randall Whitehead Senior,” my dad said, sounding impressed, as we watched Tiffany fling herself across the bed in 1S all over again. “Randy’s peddling amateur porn now. His father must be so proud.”

“I’m not sure his father knows,” I said, popping out the tape. It was obviously a copy of the first one we’d seen.

“But why do I have the feeling,” Dad said, “that he’s going to find out shortly?”

“Because that’s the kind of daughter you raised,” I said, and popped in a tape markedKRISTIN.

“Be careful, Jess,” Dad said. “Randy Whitehead Senior is a pretty powerful guy around here these days. He’s rumored to have connections up in Chicago.”

“By connections,” I said, watching as the dark-haired girl I’d seen Randy kiss outside of 1S appeared on screen, “I’m assuming you mean the Mob?”

“You assume correctly.”

“Don’t worry,” I said, popping out the tape and inserting the next one markedKRISTIN . So that was the dark-haired girl’s name. Kristin. Where was Kristin now, I wondered? Holed up with Randy at his parents’ house? He’d have a hard time explaining to them what he was doing with a girl so much younger than he was. “I’ve got backup.”

My dad’s face was blank, his tone completely neutral. “So I heard. At least, I thought I overheard your mother mentioning something to you about Rob Wilkins.”

“Yeah,” I said. The second tape markedKRISTIN was obviously the same as the first one. I pressedEJECT again. “That’s why I came back. His sister—it turns out he has a half sister—ran away, and he asked me to help find her.”

I don’t know why I felt comfortable explaining all this to my dad, but not my mom. I guess it’s because my dad had always liked Rob, and Mom…hadn’t.

“And did you?” Dad asked, again in that carefully neutral tone.

I inserted a new tape. I said, keeping my eyes on the TV screen, “Yes.”

“So. It’s back.”

I didn’t have to ask what he meant. I knew whatit was.

“Yes,” I said, still looking at the TV screen, on which a redhead who couldn’t have been more than fourteen or fifteen was jumping up and down on the bed—the one in 2T.

“What are you going to do about that?” my dad wanted to know.

“I don’t know yet,” I said. I ejected the tape as soon as Randy appeared on screen.

“Do these tapes,” Dad wanted to know, “have anything to do with Rob’s sister?”

My hand hovered over the tapes markedHANNAH . I pulled out one with the redhead’s name on it instead.

“Yes,” I said. I didn’t feel as if I were betraying Rob’s confidence in admitting this to my dad. Because he was my dad.

“That’s tough,” Dad said. “He’s gotta be hurting.”

“He’s not too happy about it,” I admitted.

“Unhappy enough to do something stupid to Randy?” Dad asked.

“If I don’t stop him,” I said.

“Anything happens to Randy,” Dad said, “and his father will call in some favors from his friends in Chicago. Rob could find himself in a heap of trouble.”

“I know,” I said. Although I wasn’t as worried about Rob ending up with cement blocks on his feet as I was about him ending up inside a cell block. “I’m working on a plan that will be mutually satisfying to all parties.”

“Hmmm,” Dad said. “That’s a nice change of pace. Usually if a fight were brewing, you’d be the first in line.”

“Well,” I said. “I’ve had my fill of fighting.”

“That’s good to know,” my dad said. Then, in a tone that was no longer neutral, but filled with fatherly concern, he added, “Jess, I heard you and your mother up there. Don’t let her get you down. You know we’ll support you—she and I both—no matter what you decide to do.”

And suddenly, my eyes were filled with tears. The images on the screen before me swam.

“I don’t want to be a concert flutist, Dad,” I heard myself saying.

“I know,” was all Dad said.

“And I don’t want to go on the lecture circuit and talk about my powers,” I told him, not looking away from the blurry TV screen.

“I know.”

“And I don’t want to marry Skip.”

“I wouldn’t want to marry Skip, either. But whatdo you want?” Dad asked.

“I want…” I sniffled. I couldn’t help it. “I don’t know what I want. But I can’t go back to Dr. Krantz. Ican’t .”

“No one’s asking you to. And if they do, I think you should say no.”

“But how can I, Dad?” I asked, looking at him, finally. Although I couldn’t really see him, because of the tears. “Douglas was right. Peopleneed me.”

“They do,” my dad said with a nod. “Only I’m not sure they need you in the way that you mean. There are other ways to do good, you know, than the way you’ve been doing it. And I think you’ve done more than your share of that. Maybe it’s time to try something new.”

“But what, Dad?” I asked, my voice cracking.

“Something you actually like doing,” Dad said. “Something that makes you happy. Any idea what that might be?”

I tried to think back to the last time I felt happy. Really happy. It was kind of horrible that I couldn’t remember. All I could think of was the look on the faces of the kids at Ruth’s day camp—the look they gave me when I handed them a shiny flute, donated from some corporation, and told them I could teach them to play it.

“Well,” I said slowly. “Yeah. I guess I have an idea.”

“Good,” Dad said. “Now see if you can figure out a way to do that all the time. That’s what life’s all about, you know. Finding what it is that you love to do, then doing it as much as you can.” He glanced at the television screen. “So long as it’s legal, that is.”

I reached up to wipe away my tears. I don’t know why, since I was no closer to figuring out what I wanted to do with my life. But I felt a little better.

“Thanks, Dad,” I said. “That…that helps.”

“Good,” Dad said. And then he stood up. “Well, I don’t know about you, but I’m beat. I’m going to bed. I’ll leave you to this, if that’s all right.”

“Okay,” I said. “Good night.”

“Good night. Oh, and Jessica. About Randall Senior. I don’t know if this will help, but it’s something that might come in handy.”

And then he told me something. Something that made my jaw drop.

Then he said, “Turn the light off when you’re through down here. You know how your mom doesn’t like us wasting electricity.”

And he went upstairs to bed.

Fourteen

When I came downstairs the next morning, it was to find my father—Chigger at his side, as usual—looking out the living room window. The way he was ducking behind the curtain made it clear that whoever it was that he was spying on, he didn’t want them to see him looking.

“Let me guess,” I said. “Unmarked four-door sedan with tinted windows.”

He turned to me, looking astonished. “How did you know?”

“Unbelievable,” I muttered, though not in response to his question. I went into the kitchen and found Mom there making scrambled egg whites. Dad’s not allowed to have the yolks anymore since his cholesterol checkup.

“Morning, honey,” Mom said. “Sleep well?”

Until she’d asked, I hadn’t actually thought about it. But the surprising answer was “Yeah, actually. I did.”

Not that I hadn’t dreamed. I’d dreamed plenty.

And had been on my cell phone all morning because of it.

“I didn’t make anything for you,” Mom said, “because I know you’re going to brunch with that nice Karen Sue Hankey.”

“No, I’m not,” I said, opening the fridge and peering inside. It was weird to be home and not have either of my brothers around. For one thing, the orange-juice carton was still full. If either Douglas or Mikey had been home, that thing would have been put back empty.

“Oh, honey,” Mom said. “You have to go with her. I told her you would.”

“Well, you shouldn’t make social engagements for me without checking first,” I said, opening the carton and drinking from it.

“Oh, Jessica, use a glass,” Mom said, looking disgusted. “You aren’t on the army base anymore.”

Didn’t I know it. One good thing about being stationed overseas—if you could call anything about it good—was that no one signed you up to have brunch with Karen Sue Hankey without your permission.

“Tell Karen Sue I’m sorry,” I said, putting the carton back in the fridge. “But I’ve got some errands to run.”

“What kind of errands?” Mom wanted to know.

Dad called from the living room, “Jess. Rob just pulled up out front.”

“That kind,” I said to Mom. And started for the front door.

“Honey.” Mom followed me, ignoring the egg whites sizzling on the stove. “I thought we’d talked about this. That boy is no good for you.”

“Bye, Mom,” I said, yanking open the front door. Rob was outside, in his shiny black pickup. He waved.

“Hey, Mrs. Mastriani,” he called.

“Hello, Robert,” my mom called back weakly. To me, she said in a low voice, “Jessica, you know as well as I do, if he cheated once, he’ll do it again.”

“Toni,” my dad said from the chair he’d sunk into in the living room. “Let the kids work out their problems themselves.”

“Oh, right,” Mom said, whipping around to glare at my father. “I’m just supposed to stand by and let her do whatever she wants, then be here to help pick up the pieces when it all blows up in her face.”

“Exactly,” Dad said, and flipped open the newspaper.

“Joe!” Mom cried, frustrated.

“See ya,” I said to the two of them, and hurried down the porch steps and across the lawn to where the four-door with the tinted windows sat.

After waving at Rob to let him know I’d just be a minute, I tapped on the sedan’s driver’s-side window. When it didn’t roll down right away, I said, “Come on. We all know you’re in there.”

Slowly the window came down. I found myself looking at two gentlemen wearing suits, despite the summer heat, which only promised to get steamier.

“Hi,” I said to them. “You guys from the FBI, or Mr. Whitehead?”

The two men exchanged glances. Then the driver said in a thick Chicago accent, “Mr. Whitehead. He is not pleased with you. He believes you broke into his son’s apartment last night, and took some property belonging to him. Mr. Whitehead would like that property back.”

“Right,” I said. “I figured he would. Well, it just so happens that my friend and I are on the way to Mr. Whitehead’s office. So you two are welcome to follow us. You can even call ahead, if you want, and let him know we’re on the way. Oh, and tell him to make sure Randy Junior is there, as well. And Randy needs to bring Kristin with him.”

The driver and his partner exchanged glances. I said encouragingly, “Go on. Call him. If he wants his son’s property back, he’s going to have to meet with me. It’s either that, or I take the property to the cops.”

The driver hesitated, then reached into his breast pocket. For a minute, I thought he might be going for a gun, and I thought to myself, obscurely, how odd it would be to die on such a bright, sunny summer morning, on my own street, in front of my parents and my would-have-been boyfriend.

But it turned out he was only reaching for a cell phone.

“See you in ten,” I said to the men in the car. Then I turned and started for Rob’s truck…

…just as a white convertible Rabbit pulled up alongside my driveway, and Karen Sue Hankey, behind the wheel, tootled on the horn.

“Hi, Jessica!” she cried. “Are you ready? I hope you don’t mind if it’s just the two of us, but Scott’s playing golf with my dad. I thought it might be just as well. Now it can be just us girls. I made a reservation at that new little gourmet restaurant on the courthouse square. They’ve got the best waffles. Even though, you know, I’m not supposed to be eating refined sugar. But this is a special occasion. Oh, I just love your hair like that. Did you get it done in New York? Hop in, why don’t you?”

Instead of hopping in, I walked right past her car, then climbed into the passenger seat beside Rob.

“Hey,” he said to me. Then glanced out his window. “Isn’t that that girl from last night? The one who stopped you on the street?”

“Just drive,” I said.

Rob obliged, pulling out and heading towards downtown. As we cruised by her, I heard Karen Sue, looking outraged, say, “Well, of all the—” Then I saw my mom rushing out to placate her, probably with an offer of scrambled egg whites.

“How’s Hannah?” I asked, buckling my seat belt.

“She hates me,” Rob said simply. “She’s also not too fond of Chick, whose babysitting her again until her mother gets here to pick her up.”

“She’ll get over it,” I said. “Did you tell her about the videos?”

“Oh, yeah,” Rob said. “She doesn’t believe me. Her precious Randy would never do anything like that. She thinks I’m making it up to make Randy look bad.”

“Of course you are,” I said with a laugh. “Don’t worry. She’ll come around.”

“Yeah,” Rob said. “Too bad by the time she does, she’ll be back home with her mom.” He glanced into his rearview mirror a few seconds later. “Who’s the tail?” he wanted to know. “FBI?”

“Mob,” I said casually. “Turns out Randy Senior’s connected.”

“Boy,” Rob said. “Things just keep getting better with this guy. My sister sure knows how to pick ’em. Should I lose them?”

“No, they’re our escort,” I said.

“Great,” he said even more sarcastically. “May I ask where this little procession is headed?”

“Absolutely,” I said. “Courthouse square. The offices of Mr. Randall Whitehead Senior are in the Fountain Building.”

“And that’s where we’re going?” Rob asked. “To see Randy Senior?”

“That’s correct,” I said. “Although Randy Junior is going to be there as well, I believe.”

“Does this mean you’re going to let me beat him senseless after all?” Rob asked hopefully.

“It most certainly does not,” I said, keeping my gaze on the road and not allowing it to stray towards Rob’s hands, which looked tantalizingly strong and competent as they turned the wheel. I tried not to think about how those hands would feel—had felt—on me.

“Did you watch the tapes?” Rob wanted to know. I noticed he was keeping his own gaze on the road, as well.

“I did,” I said.

Rob waited for me to go on. When I didn’t, he said, “Were the ones with Hannah…I mean, was there more than one—”

“There was just one video of her,” I said.

“Good,” Rob said softly.

“Multiple copies of the same video,” I added, even though I didn’t want to. Still, I had to make sure he understood.

Rob swore under his breath. Then, giving a chuckle that was completely devoid of humor, he said, “And you really think I’m not going to kill him when I see him?”

“You’re not,” I said. “Because, for one thing, he’s not worth going to jail for. And for another, those guys back there? They’re armed.”

“Yeah,” Rob said. “Well, they’re not going to be around forever. Randy’s going to have to go somewhere alone sometime, and when he does—”

“Rob.” My voice was sharp enough to cause him to turn his head to look at me, finally.

“You’re not going to lay a finger on Randy Whitehead,” I said angrily. “You’re going to let me handle this. That’s what you brought me here from New York for, and that’s what I’m going to do.”

“Like hell,” Rob said. “This isnot what I brought you from New York for. I brought you from New York to find my sister, and you—”

“There’s a spot,” I said, pointing. Finding parking around the square was notoriously difficult, which was why so many people preferred to do their shopping at the mall, even though it wasn’t anywhere near as historically picturesque.

“—found my sister,” Rob went on, swinging the massive truck into the narrow spot as neatly as if he were driving a car half its size. “For which I thank you. But I can’t sit back and let this guy get away with what he did to her. I can’t do it, Jess. You can’t ask me to.”

“I’m not,” I said, unsnapping my seat belt. “Randy’s going to pay for what he did. Just not with his blood. And you’re not going to go to jail—or worse, the bottom of some lake.”

Rob glared at me. I wouldn’t back down, though. I just glared right back. After a few seconds, Rob turned and pounded the sides of his fists on the steering wheel—just once, apparently to get the urge to hit something out of his system.

“Feel better?” I asked.

“No,” he said sullenly.

“Good,” I said. “Let’s go.”

We climbed down from the pickup’s cab, then waited for the light in order to cross the street to the Fountain Building, which also housed the local bank and a yoga studio. On the way, we passed Underground Comix, the store where my brother Douglas works. The sign in the door readCLOSED . I knew they didn’t open until ten, and it was still only nine thirty.

I noticed that when we got to the building’s entrance, the men from the sedan were already waiting for us. They’d apparently found parking closer by.

“Mr. Whitehead in?” I asked them.

The driver, who clearly used Just For Men in order to color his gray, since no one had hair that black, nodded.

“Both Mr. Whiteheads will see you,” he said.

“Great,” I said chipperly, and led the way through the atrium lobby to the offices of Whitehead Construction.

The plump, middle-aged receptionist must have been given the heads-up that we were on the way, since she didn’t ask who we were. Instead she said, jumping up nervously, “Mr. Whitehead will see you right away. Can I get you anything? Coffee? Water? Soda?”

“I’m fine,” I said graciously. Who said I didn’t learn any manners when I was overseas?

“I’m good,” Rob growled.

“Well, then,” the receptionist said. “Follow me.”

She led us into a large, sunny office, one corner of which was completely taken up by an enormous, modern-looking desk, where Randy Whitehead Senior sat. In front of the desk had been arranged four matching chairs, also modern, made of black leather and chrome. In one of the chairs sat Randy Whitehead Junior. In the other, looking very small but stylish in tight jeans and a black halter top, sat the girl I recognized from Apartment 1S, and later, from the videotapes markedKRISTIN .

“Well, well,” Randy Whitehead Senior said, climbing to his feet and putting on a gigantic grin when he saw me. “Are you telling me this little bitty thing here is the one who’s been causin’ all this ruckus?”

“Her friend’s not so little,” Randy Junior muttered with a hostile glance in Rob’s direction, which Rob ignored.

“Hello, Mr. Whitehead,” I said coolly, crossing the office and holding my right hand out towards the senior Randall Whitehead. “I’m Jessica Mastriani. It’s very nice to meet you.”

“And you, and you,” Randy Senior boomed. He pumped my hand up and down, then looked questioningly at Rob, who just stood there, glaring back at him. “Aren’t you going to introduce me to your friend?”

“Sure,” I said. “Mr. Whitehead, this is Rob Wilkins. Your son, Randy, is acquainted with Rob’s younger sister, Hannah.”

A glance at Randy Junior told me that the blow had hit home. He’d stood when I entered. Now the younger Mr. Whitehead sank back down into his chrome-and-leather chair, looking up uneasily at Rob, who, even when standing, towered over him by a good four or five inches.

“Oh God,” Randy Junior moaned under his breath.

Kristin, noticing her boyfriend’s pale demeanor, chimed in with, “Who’s Hannah? What’s going on, Randy? Who’s Hannah?”

“I’ll tell you later,” Randy Junior muttered.

“You must be Kristin,” I said to the dark-haired girl and held out my hand. “Jessica Mastriani.”

“Oh,” she said, bewilderedly putting out her own hand. “You’re a friend of Randy’s? He’s told you about me?”

“Not exactly,” I said. “I’ve seen your video.”

“Video?” Kristin looked puzzled. “What video?”

I glanced at Randy Senior and noticed that his smile lost some of its strength.

“Oh, you don’t know about the video Randy made of you and he having sex?” I asked. “The one he’s distributing all over southern Indiana, and—if I’m not mistaken, across state lines…which is a felony, I think.”

Kristin laughed, a tinkling sound in the quiet office, the walls of which were decorated with framed aerial photos of famous golf courses. “Randy and I never made a video,” she said. “What’s she talking about, Randy?”

“All righty, then,” Randy Senior interrupted in that same booming voice. “I understand from my son here, Miss Mastriani, that you stole some property of his. And apparently you confirmed this fact to my two associates here—” He nodded towards Just For Men and his companion, who’d taken up positions flanking the office door, as if they suspected Rob and I might make a run for it. “I’ll admit I wasn’t completely aware of the extent of Randy’s little enterprise until last night when he explained it to me. I take it this all has something to do with this young man’s sister?”

He looked questioningly at Rob.

“Myunderage sister,” Rob pointed out in a voice so cold, I was surprised it didn’t freeze Randy Senior to the spot.

Instead of freezing, the older Mr. Whitehead took a deep breath, then slowly lowered himself back into his chair.

“I see,” he said thoughtfully. “Thatis unfortunate.” Then, noticing that Rob and I were still standing, Randy Senior said, “Where are my manners? Sit down, you two, please.”

Rob stayed where he was, but I sat down, then reached up and tugged on the back of Rob’s shirt until he lowered himself into the chair next to mine.

Kristin, meanwhile, kept saying, “Randy? What’s going on? Who’s this Hannah person? Why is that man there so angry? What are these videos they keep talking about?”

“Miss Mastriani,” Randy Senior said in the same affable tone as before, “before we go any further, I have to tell you how truly honored I am to meet you. When Randy here told me he’d met Lightning Girl—the one that television show is based on—well, you could have knocked me over with a feather. For one thing, that show is one of my wife’s favorites—right, Randy?”

Randy Junior, who still looked as if he might throw up on his own shoes at any second, said, “Yeah. Right.”

“And for another, well, I can’t tell you how much I appreciate everything you did for this country during your tour in Afghanistan. That’s the kind of sacrifice only a true patriot would make, and Randy’s mother and I—well, if there’s one thing we admire, that’s patriotism. Love for this great country of ours is something we tried to instill in our son—didn’t we, Randy? I mean, where else but in America could the son of a dirt-poor farmer like myself end up owning more property than anyone in this great state with the exception of the Catholic Church?”

Randy Senior laughed heartily at his own joke, and Just For Men and his friend joined in. I smiled politely. Rob continued to glower. Randy kept on looking sick, and Kristin just looked confused.

“And I’d like to add,” Randy Senior said, when he’d recovered from his laughing fit, “that the wife and I are big fans of your father’s restaurants. Why, we eat at least one meal a week at Mastriani’s. And I’m addicted to the burgers at Joe’s. Aren’t I, Randy?”

Randy nodded, still looking as if he didn’t feel well. I said, “Well, that’s all just great, Mr. Whitehead. But that doesn’t get us any closer to resolving the situation we have here. Your son’s behavior has upset my friend here very much. I mean, his sister is a very young, inexperienced girl. And your son not only violated her—”

“I did not,” Randy Junior cried. “She wasn’t even a virgin when I met her!”

Rob started up from his chair, but before he could lay his hands on Randy Junior, Randy Senior thundered, “Shut up, Randall!”

“But, Dad,” Randy Junior cried. “I didn’t—”

“You shut up,” Randy Senior bellowed, looking very red in the face, “until I tell you different. I think you’ve caused enough trouble for one day, don’t you?”

Randy Junior cowered in his seat, alternating nervous glances between his father and Rob.

Mr. Whitehead looked at me and said, “I apologize for my son’s outburst there, Miss Mastriani, and Mr.—I’m sorry, young man, I didn’t catch your name.”

“Wil—” Rob began, but I cut him off.

“His name doesn’t matter,” I said quickly. “As I was saying, the fact is, your son violated his sister’s right to privacy by filming, without her knowledge, private acts on video, that he then went on to copy and distribute—”

“I had her permission!” Randy Junior cried. “I got her signature on a release form and everything!”

“But that’s not a binding contract,” I said to his father. “Since Hannah is only fifteen years old—”

“She told me she was eighteen!” Randy Junior burst out, causing his father to lift a crystal golf-ball–shaped paperweight from the top of his desk and then lower it, with a crash, against his blotter.

“God damn it, Randy!” he roared. “I told you to shut up!”

Randy Junior closed his mouth. Beside him, Kristin looked ready to burst into tears. She wasn’t the only one, either. Randy Junior looked close to letting loose with a few sobs as well.

“I’m sorry, Miss Mastriani,” Randy Senior, recovering himself, said. “And that apology extends to you, too, young man. I can perfectly understand your outrage. I myself am outraged. I had no idea that my son was engaging in the—ahem—film business. I am as disgusted by it as I’m sure you are. So please tell me, what can I do to make this up to you—to both of you? Because I surely do want to set things right.”

“Well,” I said, “in that case, you can ask your son to turn himself in to the officers who should be waiting in your reception area right about”—I glanced at my watch and saw that it was ten o’clock—“now.”

Fifteen

Both Randys were busy gaping at me when the intercom on Mr. Whitehead’s desk suddenly buzzed.

Randy Senior snatched at it and barked, “God damn it, Thelma, I said no interruptions during this meeting!”

“I’m sorry, Randy,” the receptionist’s voice crackled. “But there are about a half dozen police officers out here who say they need to see you right away.”

All of the color drained from Mr. Whitehead’s face. He looked at me with more venom than a rattler.

“You conniving little bitch,” he said.

I smiled at him pleasantly.

Just For Men and his companion had both whipped out cell phones and were whispering urgently into them. Randy Junior had sunk so low into his chair, he looked as if he were boneless. Randy Senior had taken a bottle of Mylanta from a desk drawer and was measuring out a capful of the chalky white liquid. Only Kristin was glancing around confusedly, going, “I don’t understand. Why are the police here? Who is this Hannah person? And why does everyone keep talking about videotapes?”

I looked at her and said, “Your boyfriend has been secretly filming the two of you having sex, then selling the tapes over the Internet on amateur porn sites.”

Kristin knit her pretty brow. “No, he hasn’t.”

“Yes,” I said. “He has.”

“No,” Kristin said with a smirk, “he hasn’t. And I think I would know. I mean, I’d have noticed a camera in the bedroom.”

“The camera was hidden in the bedroom closet,” I said. “Behind the mirror—which was really two-way glass—over the dresser.”

Kristin blinked her heavily mascaraed eyelashes. Then she said, “Nuh-uh.”

“Uh-huh,” I said. “Kristin. I’ve seen the tapes. You’re wearing a matching red tiger-stripe-bra-and-panty set. You also,” I added, “have a tendency to squeal.”

Kristin went pale beneath her blusher. Her head swiveled towards Randy Junior.

“How would she know that?” she demanded shrilly of her boyfriend. “How does she know that?”

“Because I’ve seen the tapes, Kristin,” I said. “I’ve seenall the tapes. Carly. Jasmine. Beth.”

Quick as lightning, Kristin’s hand whipped out, meeting with Randy Junior’s face with crackling force.

“You told me Jasmine was your sister,”she hissed, tears of fury standing on the ends of her dark eyelashes.

“That’s funny,” I said as Randy Junior tried to shrink into a ball in his chair. “That’s what Jasmine says he told her about you, Kristin.”

Kristin swung an astonished gaze towards me. So did Randy Junior. So, for that matter, did Rob.

“You talked to Jasmine?” Randy Junior breathed.

“Oh,” I said calmly. “I talked to them all this morning, Randy. And you know, I have to say, even though you made sure to select such a wide variety of different girls—blondes, brunettes, redheads, short, skinny, tall—they all had one thing in common. And that was that they didn’t know they were being filmed. And they’re all pretty pissed off about it. Most of them pissed off enough to press charges.”

“Oh, sweet Lord,” Randy Whitehead Senior said, dropping his balding head into his hands.

Randy Junior, meanwhile, had curled into the smallest ball he could. He had to, if he wanted to escape Kristin’s slaps, which she was raining down on him with feminine fury.

“You jerk!” she cried. “You lied to me! You lied! You said you loved me! You said I was the only one! You said you’d always take care of me! Where am I going to go now? Huh? Where?”

“You could go home,” I suggested quietly.

This caught her attention. She stopped slapping Randy long enough to glance my way.

“No, I can’t,” she said with a sniffle. “My dad kicked me out.”

“He’s willing to let you come back,” I said. “At least, he was when I spoke to him this morning.”

“You…you talked to my dad?” Kristin asked as if she didn’t dare believe it.

“If you’re Kristin Pine from Brazil, Indiana,” I said, “then yeah, I did. Your dad was pretty relieved to hear from me, as a matter of fact. He and your mom have been worried about you. Well, who wouldn’t worry,” I added with a glance at Mr. Whitehead Senior, “about their runaway fifteen-year-old?”

“Christ,” Randy Senior said, burying his face more deeply into his hands.

“How…how did you know?” Kristin breathed, staring at me incredulously. “Who my parents were…whoI was?”

“She’s Lightning Girl,” Rob said simply.

I glanced in his direction. I wouldn’t say he’d spoken with extreme bitterness, or anything. But he hadn’t exactly sounded thrilled. He was sitting back in his chair, sort of just taking the drama in as it unfolded in front of him. He seemed almost relaxed. Well, more so than anyone else in the room.

At least until Randy Whitehead Senior said to me in a voice that was deathly quiet, “You’re going to regret this, girlie. I know you did it to get back at my boy for what he did to your friend’s sister. But dragging in all those other girls and the police…you’re going to regret it.”

Now Rob didn’t look relaxed at all. He leaned forward in his chair and said, “Excuse me. But are youthreatening her?”

“Oh, you’re damned straight I’m threatening her,” Randy Senior said. “Her. You. Her parents. This is war, girlie. You crossed the wrong man, this time.”

“I don’t think so,” I said matter-of-factly. “And here’s why. The only person going down here today is your son. If anything happens to me, or to my family or friends, you’re going to be joining your son in the big house. Or, in your case, I guess you’d call it the doghouse.”

Randy Senior blinked at me.

“Just what in the hell,” he said, “are you talking about?”

“Well, as the owner and developer of the Fountain Bleu apartment complex, you are, of course, ultimately responsible for the management of it, including who you employ to run it…. In this case, that would be your son, Randy, who, as we know now, took advantage of his position there to illicitly house underage runaways, then film them in sex acts with himself—” Across from me, Kristin let out a sob. “Sorry,” I said to her apologetically.

“It’s okay,” she said with a sniff.

I went on. “Obviously, this leaves you pretty open to both criminal and civil charges. You’re in a very vulnerable situation right now.”

Mr. Whitehead Senior stared at me. “Just what, exactly, are you saying? Are you trying to offer us some kind of deal?”

The buzzer on the intercom sounded again. “Mr. Whitehead.” Thelma sounded tense. “I don’t know how much longer these police officers are willing to wait on you….”

Randy Senior threw Just For Men and his friend an appealing look. “Go on out there,” he said. “And see if you can stall them.”

Just For Men nodded. “Will do,” he said. And they both left.

Randy Senior looked at me. “Now. Just what kind of deal are we talking about?”

“Oh, no deal for your son,” I said quickly. “Obviously. But for you…well, there’s a piece of property I know you have your eye on—Pine Heights Elementary School?”

Mr. Whitehead’s eyes narrowed at me. “That’s right. You were at the city council meeting last night. That’s where Randy said he met you.”

“Right. Your plan is to convert the building to condos. If, however, you could see your way to abandoning the condo plan and put your support—and a sizable donation—towards establishing an alternative school there, I think I might be able to work out a deal with the offended parties that will keep you out of jail and civil court as well.”

Randy Whitehead Senior stared at me. So did his son. So did Rob. The only person in the room, in fact, who was not staring at me was Kristin, and that’s because she was looking at her reflection in her compact mirror and carefully wiping away the mascara tracks her tears had made down her cheeks.

“Just how much,” Randy Senior wanted to know, “of a donation are we talking about here?”

“Oh, nothing much,” I said. “To a man of your wealth, anyway. And you could write it off as a tax deduction, I’m sure.”

His voice was cold. “How. Much.”

“I think three million dollars would work,” I said.

Down crashed the golf-ball paperweight again. Kristin jumped, with a little hiccup.

“There is no way!” Randy Senior bellowed. “No way! Just who in the hell do you think—I have friends in this town, girlie. I’ll take my chances in court! I’ll pay off whoever I have to! I’ll—”

Rob stood up. He was so tall and broad-shouldered that he seemed to take up an astonishing amount of space in the large office.

“You’ll do,” he said in a deep, quiet voice, “what she tells you to do.”

Randy Whitehead Senior made a mistake then. He looked up into Rob’s face, and he laughed.

“Oh, yeah?” he squawked. “Or what?”

A split second later, Rob had pulled Mr. Whitehead halfway across his desk, and had the golf-ball–shaped paperweight pressed against his carotid artery.

“Or I’ll kill you,” Rob replied with no change in tone.

Which is when Randy Senior made his second mistake. He gurgled, “Do you know who I am? Do you know who I know? I can have you snuffed out like a candle, fella.”

“Not if you’re already dead,” Rob said calmly, pressing the golf ball so deeply into Mr. Whitehead’s throat that he began to choke.

I got up from my chair and strolled towards Mr. Whitehead’s desk. His face had gotten very red. Beads of sweat were popping out all over his shiny forehead. He rolled his eyes towards me. One hand reached limply for the intercom. But even if he could have reached it, it wouldn’t have done any good. He couldn’t speak with the pressure Rob was putting on his larynx.

“You may know people in this town, Mr. Whitehead,” I said. “But the fact is, Rob here probably knows more. And the people he knows are local. He doesn’t need to send all the way to Chicago for muscle. So let’s put aside the physical threats for the moment, because the fact is, you’re going to do as I say, and not because if you don’t, Rob will kill you. You’re going to do as I say because if you don’t, I’m going to tell your wife about Eric.”

Randy Junior looked up from the twitching ball he’d rolled himself into.

“Who’s Eric?” he asked tearfully.

Kristin, who’d put away her compact and was staring, transfixed, at the way Rob’s muscles were bunched beneath his shirt sleeves (I’d have a word with her about that later), looked equally confused. “Who’s Eric?” she wanted to know.

“Yeah,” Rob said, looking down at me. “Who’s Eric?”

“Okay!”

We all glanced at Mr. Whitehead, surprised he’d been able to summon up an intelligible word.

But he was gripping Rob’s hands with white-tipped fingers and croaking, “Okay. Okay.”

Rob loosened his hold, and Randy Senior sagged against his desk, gasping for air.

“Okay you’ll do what she says?” Rob asked him cautiously.

Mr. Whitehead nodded. His face was slowly turning back to its normal color. “I’ll do as she says,” he wheezed. “Just don’t…tell my wife…about Eric.”

“Fine,” I said. “But you should know, I’m not the only one who knows about Eric, Mr. Whitehead. And if anything should happen to me, my associates will—”

“Nothing will happen to you,” Mr. Whitehead said. He’d gone almost as pale as he’d been red just moments before. “I swear it. Just don’t tell.”

“Deal,” I said. And I reached across the desk to slip my right hand in his sweaty, trembling one.

Then I leaned down and pushed the button on the intercom.

“Say it,” I said to Mr. Whitehead.

He coughed a few times, then adjusted his collar and tie where Rob’s grip had mussed them. Then he said into the intercom, “You can send the police in for Randy Junior now, Thelma.”

That caused his son to spring from his seat, looking panic-stricken.

“No!” he cried. “Dad! You can’t—”

“I’m sorry, Randy,” Randy Senior said. And the funny thing was, he really did sound sorry. “But I don’t have a choice.”

“But I did it for you, Dad,” Randy pleaded. “To show you I could handle more responsibility. You can’t let them do this! You can’t!”

But Mr. Whitehead just stood there as the police who’d come into his office instructed Randy Junior to put his hands up against the wall and proceeded to frisk him.

The police weren’t the only ones who came in, either. They were followed by a young guy in a Hellboy T-shirt, brandishing an X-Men comic book.

“Oh, hey, Jess,” Douglas said when he saw me. “How’d I do? Did I get ’em here on time, like you asked?”

“Perfecttiming, Doug,” I said. “Perfect timing.”

Sixteen

When we emerged from the DA’s office several hours later—I had a lot of explaining to do, it turned out, as to exactly how I’d come across the videos I’d given to Douglas to give to them. But they hadn’t kept me nearly as long as they seemed to plan on keeping Kristin, who was their star witness and who was being kept in protective custody until her parents could come to pick her up—I was famished enough almost to wish I’d taken Karen Sue up on her offer of brunch. I thought I might pass out on the courthouse steps.

Fortunately Rob seemed to feel the same way, since he went, “What would you say to some lunch?”

“I’d say hallelujah. Douglas?”

Douglas shook his head. “Sorry, no can do. I gotta get back to the shop. Someone’s got to make sure that the graphic-novel needs of this community are met.” The noon sun was pelting down on us, but I still saw Douglas’s gaze slide towards me. “But you guys go on ahead. You know, there’s a really nice place Tasha and I have been going lately, out by Storey, Indiana, that’s completely worth the drive. It’s right next to this river, and real romantic—”

I knew what he was doing. I knew what he was doing, and I hurried to put a stop to it by pointing across the square. “Oh, look. Joe’s is open. We could stop by there and pick up some burgers and take them back to your place, Rob.”

Rob raised his eyebrows. “My place?”

“She’s the only one on the tapes,” I said, “I haven’t spoken to yet. I need to know if she wants to press charges against Randy as well. I gave all the other girls the choice.”

“You didn’t give the cops her tape?” Rob asked, looking curious.

“Not yet,” I said.

Rob glanced at his watch. “Gwen’ll be there to pick her up any minute. Guess we could get a burger for her, too. And about eight more on top of that, for Chick.”

“Or,” Douglas said, looking disappointed. “I guess you could do that instead.”

“We will,” I said firmly. “Thanks for your help this morning, Douglas. We couldn’t have done it without you.”

He perked up a bit at hearing this. “My pleasure,” he said. “Anything to rid the world of more smut-peddlers, and make room for wholesome entertainment likeSin City. You two have fun now. Call me later, Jess.”

And with a jaunty salute, Douglas started across the street for Underground Comix. He’d doubtless track me down and demand an explanation when he learned about Mr. Whitehead’s “donation”—Randy Senior was supposed to present the check personally to the head of the Pine Heights Alternative School committee, which was Douglas himself.

In the meantime, I was glad to have him out of my hair. I didn’t exactly need my big brother hanging around, trying to play matchmaker. Things between Rob and me were awkward enough without interference from my family—even though I knew Douglas meant well.

Still, I was totally willing to take advantage ofsome of my family…. The nice thing about having parents who own all the best restaurants in town is that you don’t have to pay to eat there. Even so, Rob insisted on leaving a hefty tip for our burgers…which I understood, considering the fact that his mom used to be one of our waitresses. Burgers bagged and in hand, we got back into his pickup and started for his house.

The silence that ensued in the cab on the way to Rob’s wasn’t at all awkward. Not. We hadn’t had a single moment to ourselves in order to discuss what had happened in Randy Senior’s office, because we’d been too busy explaining to the DA what Randy Junior had done. I really didn’t think there was all that much to talk about, anyway.

Rob seemed to disagree, though.

“So,” he said as we hurtled past cornfields—the corn was only knee-high. In another month, it would be well past the top of my head. “This new nonviolence thing you’ve got going…”

I let out an inward groan. I didn’t want to have to explain to Rob—to anyone, for that matter—why it was that hitting no longer held any appeal to me. I’d seen enough violence to last me a lifetime, and I’d hung up my (figurative) brass knuckles. Why couldn’t we just leave it at that?

But to my surprise, he finished with “…I like it.”

I glanced at him. He kept his gaze on the road.

“Yeah,” I said sarcastically. “I bet you do. Since your block was one of the first ones I was going to knock off, as soon as I got the chance.”

He still wouldn’t look at me.

“That’s not why,” he said. “I just think you’re good at thinking up nonviolent solutions to your problems. Like that thing today, back in Whitehead’s office. That was genius.”

I felt my cheeks heating up, and uttered a silent curse at myself. Why did I let this guy get under my skin? I mean, I was actually blushing, just because he’d given me a compliment. Why did he have this insufferable power over my body temperature?

“I always told you,” he went on, still not looking in my direction. Which was good, because if he had, he’d have seen my face heated up red as a lobster. “That the problem with your being so quick with your fists was that someday, someone bigger than you was going to hit you back. And you weren’t going to like it very much.”

“That would never have happened,” I said, trying to keep my tone light. “I’m too quick on my feet. Float like a butterfly—”

“Yeah, well, I think both Randy Whiteheads would agree that your sting is much worse when you use your head,” he interrupted, “than your right hook. Who’s Eric?”

I blinked at him. “Who?”

“Eric.” We’d reached the long driveway to his house, and Rob turned the truck up it. It really was a beautiful piece of land—the one Rob’s farm sat on—complete with stately hundred-year-old oaks and its own stream. Randy Whitehead Senior, I’m sure, would have enjoyed turning it into a golf course or country club. “The guy you said you’d tell Mrs. Whitehead about if her husband didn’t do what you said.”

“Oh,” I said with a grin. “Him. Yeah. My dad told me about him. Eric’s a waiter at Mastriani’s.”

“So?”

“So you know how people who work together get to chatting. Eric, my dad says, likes to hang out at a gay bar in Indianapolis.”

“Yeah. And?”

“And it turns out, so does Randy Senior.”

Rob brought the truck to a stop with a jerk, his foot landed on the brake so fast. Finally he turned his head to look at me.

“You’re kidding me,” he said, looking stunned.

“Nope.” I undid my seat belt and started to climb from the pickup. “Eric’s Mr. Whitehead’s boyfriend. They have their own little love nest together and everything. Except, apparently, Randy Senior would rather his wife not know about it.”

I gathered up all the burgers and started towards Rob’s house. Chick—owner and proprietor of Chick’s Bar and Motorcycle Club, out by the highway—apparently heard us pull up, since he came to the front door. When he saw me coming up the brick walk, he broke out into an enormous smile.

“Well, if it isn’t Lightning Girl,” he said, holding open the screen door to let me in. “Long time no see.”

“Hi, Chick,” I said, grinning back at him. “How’s life?”

“A whole lot better now that you’re back in town,” Chick said as Rob followed me up the walk. “Hey, now that you two are back together, maybe you can do something to make this guy stop working so hard and have some fun once in a while.”

Chick slapped a heavy hand down onto Rob’s shoulder. Rob winced. But not, I’m pretty sure, because Chick’s grip hurt.

“Yeah,” Rob said, not looking at meor Chick. “Well, Jess came back, but only to help me find Hannah. She’ll be heading back to New York soon.”

Chick’s smile vanished. “Oh,” he said. Then he noticed the bags in my hands, and his crestfallen demeanor brightened again, but only slightly. “Well, at least she brought food.”

And he started back inside the house.

I turned to glare at Rob. “How do you know?” I demanded.

He stared down at me, confused. “How do I know what?”

“How do you know when I’ll be heading back to New York?” I couldn’t explain why I suddenly felt so incredibly angry. But I was definitely rethinking my whole nonviolent stance, as well as my decision not to knock his block off. “Maybe I won’t be going back to New York. You don’t know. You don’t know anything about me anymore.”

He blinked at me. “Okay,” he said. “Take it easy.”

Why is it that whenever anyone tells you totake it easy orrelax , it has the totally opposite effect?

Feeling exceptionally unrelaxed, I stomped into Rob’s house to find his sister, Hannah, just coming down the stairs to see who was at the door.

“Oh,” she said, looking distinctly disappointed when she saw who it was. “It’s you. I thought it might be my mom.”

“Yeah, well, I’m just as thrilled to see you,” I snapped. “Is there a VCR up there?”

Hannah cocked her head quizzically at me from the staircase. “What? Yeah. Why?”

I signaled for her to turn around and head back up the stairs. Rob, going into the kitchen to get plates for the burgers, said, “Jess. Eat first, okay?”

“Oh, Hannah and I are going to eat,” I assured him. Then, seeing that Hannah had stayed where she was, I pointed up the stairs again and said, “Go. Now.”

Looking churlish, Hannah spun around and headed up the stairs. I followed, after handing Chick all but one of the bags I carried.

Upstairs, in the guest bedroom where Hannah was staying—the one that used to be Rob’s, but which he’d done over in muted beige—I saw that she’d made herself at home. Her clothes were strewn all over the floor, along with several bags of chips and numerous empty soda cans.

“You’d better pack,” I said to her. “Your mom’s on her way to get you, you know.”

“I don’t care,” Hannah said, flopping back onto the bed and glaring at the ceiling. Her multicolored hair made a rainbow against the white pillowcase. “I’m not going back to live with that bitch. And Rob can’t make me.”

“Uh,” I said, pressingPOWER on the VCR and inserting the videotape I’d removed from my backpack. “Yes, he can. He is under no obligation to keep paying for you to live under his roof.”

“Fine,” Hannah said to the ceiling. “He can kick me out, then. He can’t make me stay with Mom, though. I’ll just run away again.”

“Because that worked out so great for you last time?” I pressedPLAY , then took the bag of burgers and went to sit in an armchair by the room’s single window—after first removing a pile of Hannah’s clothes from it. “Good plan.”

Hannah was watching me, not the TV. “Hey,” she said, sitting up, “can I have one of those? I’m starved. That Chick guy offered to make me a sandwich, but have you ever looked at his fingernails? I was, like, no way.”

After taking a burger out for myself, I tossed the bag to her. “Be my guest.” I looked at the TV screen. “Oh, cool,” I said, sinking my teeth into the thick cheese-and-bacon combo. “This is my favorite part.”

Idly, Hannah glanced up from the burger she was biting into to the TV…

…then let the burger drop to her lap.

“What?” She stared, bug-eyed, at the screen. “Where did—hey, that’s—”

I swallowed. “Yeah. I prefer boxers, too. But what can you do? Some guys will never learn.”

Hannah scrambled off the bed—sending burger everywhere—and dove for the VCR. She slammed theEJECT button. When the videotape slid out of the machine, she wrenched it up and stared at the side, where the neatly typed label—HANNAH—caused her eyes to bug out even more.

“Where did you get this?” she demanded in a small voice.

“From your boyfriend’s closet,” I said when I was done chewing. “You didn’t know you were being filmed?”

She shook her head. The ability to speak had apparently left her.

“He had copies, too,” I went on. “I assume for distribution purposes.”

“Dis…distribution?” Hannah’s face had gone as white as the sheets behind her. “He was…selling them?”

“Oh, not just yours,” I said. “There were lots of different tapes of lots of different underage girls. He apparently had quite a little harem going. You really didn’t know?”

She shook her head again, staring down at the tape.

“Well,” I said with a shrug. “You don’t need to worry about it anymore. He’s in jail now. Or will be until his dad bails him out, anyway. Unless they hold him without bail, like the DA is threatening. Interstate porn trafficking is actually taken pretty seriously, especially when it involves minors, but Mr. Whitehead—Randy’s dad—has a lot of money and power and…well. We’ll just have to see what happens.”

Hannah looked at me. She had a ketchup smear on one side of her mouth. She actually appeared, for the first time since I’d met her, much younger than her fifteen years.

“Randy’s in jail?” she asked softly.

“Randy,” I said, “is very much in jail. You can help keep him there by letting me give your tapes to the police, and agreeing to testify against him. Which I very much urge you to do. But I guess I’d understand if you chose not to. Though it’s not a course I’d recommend. I mean, if he gets away with it, he’ll just do it to someone else, maybe even younger than you.”

I waited for her to light into me, the way she had back in Randy’s apartment. I was, after all, now doubly her enemy—I’d taken her away from the man she loved,and now I’d been instrumental in putting that man in jail.

So, of course, had her brother. But I was willing to take the blame for Randy’s incarceration, since if Rob had had his way, all her boyfriend would currently be suffering from right now was a concussion, not years of legal woes and quite possibly a good deal of jail time.

But to my surprise, Hannah didn’t fly into one of her rages. Instead, still gazing down at the tape, she asked softly, “Did Rob see it?”

I shook my head. “No. Just me.”

“Where are the others?” she asked. “You said there were copies.”

I reached for my backpack, and pulled out the other two tapes with her name on them.

“Right here,” I said.

She stepped forward and took both the tapes from my hand. As she did so, our fingers brushed, and she said in the same soft voice, “Thanks.” She looked down at the tapes. And appeared to come to a decision, if the way her mouth turned into a flat little line was any indication.

“I guess I’d like to,” she said. “Press charges, I mean.”

“Good for you,” I said. “Let Rob know. Or your mom. One of them can take you down to the station.”

“I will. And…I’m sorry.”

I raised my eyebrows. “What for? It’s not your fault.”

“No, not for Randy,” she said, keeping her gaze on the tapes. “For those things I said yesterday. About you being—”

“A huge, giant, überbitch?” I finished for her.

“Uh,” she said. And she actually blushed. “Yeah. That. You’re not. You’re actually pretty cool.”

“Well,” I said. “Thanks.”

And then we both heard Rob call up the stairs, “Hannah? Your mom’s here.”

And Hannah’s face crumpled.

“Mom?” She dropped all three videotapes down on the bed, turned around, and ran for the door. “Mom!”

A few seconds later, I heard her thumping down the stairs, and a woman’s voice say, “Oh, Hannah!” before she was interrupted by youthful, joyous screaming.

I stayed where I was, finishing the rest of my burger. When I was done, I got up, threw the wrapper in the trash, and started for the door.

But I stumbled and nearly lost my balance when my foot caught on something hidden beneath the detritus on the floor. When I looked down to see what it was, I saw a piece of paper with my name on it. So of course I had to stoop down for a closer look.

The paper turned out to be sticking out of an album—green leather with gold-embossed trim. When I picked it up, it was heavy. More paper came out of it. I saw that they were newspaper clippings, and that they’d come loose due to someone’s rough handling.

Someone who, I didn’t doubt, had thrown the album across the room in a fit of pique at me.

I had a pretty good idea who that someone was.

And when I opened it, I saw why she’d done it.

Seventeen

It was all about me. Every page in the album—and there were a lot of them, messily inserted and sloppily glued, even before Hannah had inflicted it with such bodily harm…. The work of someone not used to scrapbooking and with no interest in neatness or even in using the correct kind of adhesive, Rob seemingly having grabbed whatever was handy, including duct tape—was plastered with magazine and newspaper articles about me, starting from the very first story that appeared in our local paper and progressing to a piece that had appeared inThe New York Times after the start of the war on terror, on some of the unorthodox methods the government was using to combat terrorism.

There was even thePeople magazine article—the one I’d refused to take part in—about me and my family (“Though she’s the inspiration for a hit television show, Jessica Mastriani is surprisingly camera shy….”).

There weren’t just clippings, either. There were some photos, too. I recognized a few of them—snapshots Rob’s mother had taken of us at Thanksgiving dinner…even a picture of Ruth and me sitting on Santa’s lap in the mall, giggling like mad. Rob must have talked the photographer into letting him buy a copy of that one, since I know I hadn’t given him one.

But some of the photos I’d never seen before—like a black-and-white one of me, in the center of the book, looking off in the distance, seemingly unaware I was being photographed. I didn’t know where or when that photo had been taken, let alone who’d pressed the shutter.

The final thing in the book was the last piece ever written about me—an announcement in our hometown paper of my winning the scholarship to Juilliard. My mom must have submitted that. She’d been so proud—prouder that I’d won that scholarship than she’d been of any of the other things I’d done, or all the kids—and fugitives from justice—I’d found.

I guess I could understand that. My musical gift was much easier to accept than my other one.

The one that, until recently, I’d thought I’d lost for good.

I could understand my mom keeping an album like this. In fact, she had one just like it.

But that’s because my mom loves me—even if we do have our differences.

The question was, why didRob have an album like this—one he’d obviously kept up with, even after we’d parted ways? What did it mean? Obviously that he’d kept on thinking of me, even after I was long gone out of his life….

But had he kept on thinking of me because he loved me? Or had he kept this album as a sort of trophy he could brag about—I dated Lightning Girl.

But wouldn’t my letters and e-mails to him—the ones I wrote so sporadically while I was overseas—make better material for bragging? And none of those were in the album.

There was only one way I was ever going to find out what it meant. And that was to ask its creator.

Holding the album to my chest—in the hope, I guess, that it would hide the violent hammering of my heart. Though why my pulse should be racing so hard was a question I didn’t dare ask myself—I left the spare room and came down the stairs to find Hannah and a woman I assumed to be her mother huddled together on the couch in the living room. Both of them were weeping, and speaking to each other in hushed voices.

Chick sat at the dining room table, eating what appeared—if the empty wrappers in front of him were any indication—to be his third cheeseburger. There was no sign of the owner of the house.

“Where’s Rob?” I asked Chick, since Hannah and her mother seemed otherwise occupied.

“He couldn’t take all the estrogen,” Chick replied with his mouth full. I couldn’t help noticing that he seemed to be keeping his eye not on Hannah, but on her mother, who was an attractive blonde around his own age, though considerably slimmer. “He went out to his workshop in the barn.”

“Thanks,” I said, and started for the door…

…only to be stopped by Hannah, who cried, “Oh, there she is!” and leaped up to grab my wrist.

“This is her, Mom,” Hannah said, dragging me over to where her mother sat on the couch. “Jessica Mastriani. She’s the one who found me.”

Mrs. Snyder, Hannah’s mom, looked up at me tearfully. “I can’t thank you enough,” she gushed, “for bringing my daughter home.”

“Oh, it was nothing,” I said. I always did hate this part. “It’s very nice to meet you. I have to go now….”

“That’s not all she did, Mom,” Hannah began, and she started chattering about Randy and his misdeeds, and the part I’d played in getting his no-good butt hauled off to jail, and how she needed to go down to the station house to do her part to keep him there. Fortunately I managed to wrestle my wrist free and escape without her seeming to notice. A second later, I was out in the bright sunshine, heading for Rob’s workshop in the barn.

In the same way that his house had undergone a renovation since the last time I’d seen it, so had Rob’s barn. New wood panels lined the walls, so that in winter the place would stay snug, and in the summer, the central air Rob had obviously installed would cool it. The holes in the high-beamed ceiling, through which birds used to slip, were gone, as were the horse stalls—removed to make way for tool racks and a pneumatic lift. Partially refurbished bikes stood in neat rows, with the one Rob was currently working on—a 1975 Harley XLCH—on a table in the middle of the barn.

Rob was standing by the sink he’d installed at the far end of the building when I came in, and didn’t notice me right away. When I said, “Rob,” he turned around, started to say something, then noticed what I had in my arms.

Then he immediately clammed up. He leaned back against the metal sink basin, his arms folded across his chest. Dr. Phil would call this kind of body language hostile.

“I found it in Hannah’s room,” I said when I’d gotten close enough to him—about five feet away—that I could speak in a normal voice in the cavernous space and still be assured of being heard. “She…she told me about it before, but I didn’t believe her.”

Rob’s gaze was on the album. His expression was carefully neutral. “Why wouldn’t you believe her? Is it so weird I’d want to keep track of what you were doing? It’s not like I could ask you. You weren’t speaking to me, if you’ll recall.”

I looked down at the album, too. “Not all of this stuff is from the time when we weren’t speaking.”

Rob unfolded his arms and slid his fingers into the pockets of his jeans. Dr. Phil would call this a defensive gesture, too.

“All right,” he said at last with a shrug. “You got me. I tried to get you out of my head—from the day I found out you were so much younger than me, I tried to get you out of my head. But I couldn’t. That book’s the result. I know it’s creepy and weird.”

I finally looked up. “I don’t think it’s creepy,” I said. I was trying hard not to wonder if, now that I knew Hannah had been telling the truth about the scrapbook, the other things she’d said about Rob were true, too. How he kept going on to her about “how great and brave and smart and funny” I was. Did he really say those things? Did he still think they were true, now that he’d seen me again after so much time had passed?

I was also trying not to remember what had happened the last time we’d been in this barn alone together. Admittedly, it had just been some kissing…but Rob had always been a fantastic kisser. Not that I had so much experience to measure him by. Still, I couldn’t help remembering the way my knees had always buckled at the touch of his lips to mine.

“I don’t think it’s weird, either,” I added when he didn’t say anything. “Well. Maybe a little weird. I never thought you liked me that much.”

Because that, of course, was something else that had happened in this barn. I’d told him I loved him. And he had not acted too pleased about it.

Rob shrugged again. “What was I supposed to do?” he wanted to know. “You knew I was on probation. And you were underage. And the way your mom obviously felt about me—I couldn’t risk it. It seemed better just to stay away from you until you turned eighteen.”

“But you couldn’t wait,” I said. Not bitterly. I just said it like it was a fact. Because it was.

Except to Rob, apparently.

“What do you mean, I couldn’t wait?” he demanded, taking his hands from his pockets and stepping away from the sink. “What do you think—Jesus, Jess! I totally waited. I’mstill waiting.”

I blinked at him. “But…that girl—”

“Christ. Not that again.” Rob looked like he wanted to hit something. I didn’t blame him. I felt like hitting something myself. “I told you. Nancy’s a customer. Shealways kisses the mechanics. She was excited about—”

“—you fixing her carburetor,” I finished for him in a bored voice. Except that I wasn’t bored. I was faking the bored part. The fact was, I wanted to cry. But I wouldn’t let him see my tears. “You said that.”

“Damned right I said that. Because it was the truth. And if you’d stuck around, instead of running off, I’d have shown you—”

He broke off. He didn’t look defensive now. He looked angry. What was he so angry about?

“Shown me what?” I asked in genuine bewilderment.

“This,”Rob said. He held out his arms to indicate the renovated barn, the motorcycles waiting to be serviced. “All of this. The house, the garage…the fact that I was going to school. Jesus, Jess. Why do you think I did all this? I mean, yeah, part of it was for me. But a big part of it was to prove to your parents—your mother, at least—that I wasn’t some bum who was just after her daughter’s virginity—or worse, looking to ride on your coattails. I did it so she’d let you go out with me. So she’d realize I’m not a worthless Grit.”

Now when I blinked, it was because my eyes had filled up with tears, and I was trying to get them out of the way so I could see.

“You…” It was hard to talk, because something appeared to be clogging my throat. “You did all that…for me?”

“I was so excited when I found out you were coming back,” Rob said. “Ask anyone. I knew you had lost your powers—everyone knew that. But I never thought—hell, I thought you’d behappy about that. No more press bugging you. No more working for the government. And you were finally eighteen…I thought we were golden, at last. I had this whole thing planned. I was going to show you the shop and the house and take you to that restaurant Doug was talking about today—the one in Storey—and propose. Yeah, I know it sounds ridiculous now.” He added this, I guess, because he saw how my eyes widened at the wordpropose. “But that’s how far gone I was. I was going to give you this—”

Digging into one of the pockets of his jeans, he pulled out a gold ring. I couldn’t see it too well from where I was standing, on account of the tears. But I thought I saw a glint of diamond.

Maybe he figured out I couldn’t see it. Because the next thing I knew, he’d shoved the ring roughly into my hand. Or thrown it at me, depending on how you looked at it. Good thing I’ve always had such excellent reflexes.

“It was my grandmother’s. It’s been in my family for years,” Rob went on in the same half amused, half angry tone. “I know it’s crazy. But I thought if your parents saw how serious I was about you, and they were okay with it, we could get married after college, or something. But instead, you showed up out of the blue, and saw something you didn’t understand, and wouldn’t listen to me, no matter how hard I tried to get you to. Then you just up and left town. And I realized…”

“That you didn’t love me after all?” I finished for him in a defensive voice. Which I actually considered pretty brave of me, considering how much I felt like running from the room, crying. The fact that I even stayed was a major step for me. Or the new, nonviolent me, anyway.

The look he gave me was almost pitying.

“No,” he said in a much gentler voice. “I already told you. That you were broken. That you needed—well, nothingI could give you, anyway.”

I laid the album down on the table next to the bike Rob had been working on. I hadn’t looked at the ring.

But I hadn’t let go of it, either.

“I didn’t know what I needed,” I said softly. “Back then.”

“Do you now?” Rob asked. “Can you look me in the eye, Jess, and tell me that you finally know what you need? Or even want?”

You.Every muscle, every drop of blood in my body seemed to scream the word.

But I couldn’t say it out loud. Not yet. Because what if I said it, and it wasn’t what he wanted to hear? Because no one wants someone who’s broken.

A beat went by. And Rob’s gaze, which had been locked on mine, dropped.

“I didn’t think so,” he said.

And he turned back to the sink.

The conversation was over. It wasso over.

Blinded by my tears, I still somehow made it to the door to the barn. It was only then that I turned around one last time, and said his name.

Rob didn’t look back at me. But he said, “What?” to the wall in front of him.

“What did you do, anyway,” I asked, “to get put on probation like that?”

His head ducked. “You want to know thatnow ?”

“Yeah,” I said. “I do.”

“It was really stupid,” he said to his hands.

“Just tell me. After all this time, I think I deserve to know.”

“Trespassing,” he said, still speaking to the sink. “A bunch of guys and I thought it would be funny to climb the fence to the public pool and go for a midnight swim. The officers who showed up to arrest us didn’t think it was all that funny, though.”

I just stared at his back. It wasn’t hard not to burst out laughing, even though he was right—it was really stupid. Stupid enough, in fact, that I realized why now he had never told me. All this time, I’d thought he’d done something…well, really reckless, even dangerous.

And all he’d done was go swimming when the pool was closed.

Still, I couldn’t laugh. Because I was pretty sure he’d broken my heart. Again.

So instead I went back to the house and asked Chick if he would drive me home.

Which he did.

Eighteen

It wasn’t until I’d gotten out of Chick’s truck that I realized I was still clutching the ring. Rob’s grandmother’s ring.

And that meant I was going to have to see him again. To give it back. Unless I took the coward’s way out, and gave it to Douglas to give back to him.

Which I had pretty much decided was what I was going to do. So it was kind of funny when, just as I was putting my foot on the front step to our porch, a bright yellow Jeep pulled up into my driveway, stopping so abruptly it nearly collided with a garbage can at the curb. I recognized a very excited Tasha Thompkins sitting behind the wheel. In the passenger seat beside her sat an equally excited Douglas.

Only not for long. No sooner had Tasha put on the brakes than Douglas was bounding out of the Jeep and towards the porch steps.

“It was you, wasn’t it?” Douglas demanded eagerly when he saw me. “Youdid it. You did it all!”

“Let me guess,” I said, sinking down onto the porch steps. “Mr. Whitehead dropped off his check.”

“Jess.” Douglas’s eyes were shining. Tasha, rushing up to stand beside him, didn’t look any less excited. “You don’t know what you’ve done. You don’t know—you can’t even imagine—how great this is.”

“Well,” I said mildly, “I’m kind of getting the idea. Tasha, that was the worst parking job I’ve ever seen.”

“Finally,” Douglas said, ignoring my dig at his girlfriend’s driving skills, and sinking down onto the porch step beside me, “we can have a school in this town that both parentsand kids can love. A school that doesn’t suck. The kind of school you can really have pride in.”

“Right,” Tasha said, sitting down beside Douglas, but looking up at me. “The kind of school that someone like you might even want to come back and teach in, Jess.”

I stared at them both, dumbfounded. “What? Teach?Me? ”

“Sure,” Douglas said. Then, seeing my expression, he laughed. “Well, it’s not that far-fetched, Jess. Think about it. Isn’t that what you’re doing this summer, with Ruth?”

“Well,” I said. “Yeah, but—”

“I’ve always thought you were great with kids, Jess,” Tasha said. “And we’re going to need a music instructor. It would be great if it could be you.”

I stared at them both. “I’m not at Juilliard to train to be a music teacher,” I said. “I’m there to become a professional musician.”

“But is that what you want, Jess?” Tasha asked. I saw her and Douglas exchange quick glances. “To play in an orchestra? Travel around? Be a musician?”

I blinked at her. Was that what I wanted? No, actually. That wasn’t what I wanted at all. What I wanted…what I wanted…

Why did everyone keep asking me what I wanted, like I was supposed to know?

“There’s no need to tell us right now,” Douglas said, resting a hand on my shoulder. “I mean, you’d have to wait until you’ve gotten your teaching certificate before you started, anyway. But if you decide you do want to come work for us, there’ll always be a position for you, Jess. The pay won’t be stellar, but I promise it will be enough to live on. And for gas, for Blue Beauty.”

He grinned at me. I couldn’t help grinning back. His excitement was catching.

It’s ironic that Mom should have chosen that moment to pull up herself.

“Oh,” Tasha said, standing up and looking worried. “I’ve blocked the driveway.”

But Mom was already parking on the street. She didn’t even appear to notice Tasha or her Jeep. She didn’t even notice Douglas. All of her attention was focused on me.

Which was so not what I needed just then.

“Jessica,” she said, even as she was still climbing out of her car. “Just what exactlywas that this morning? You swept out of here without a word of apology to poor Karen Sue. I understand you had other things to do than have brunch with her—believe me, it’s all over town, what you were up to this morning. But couldn’t you have at least said you were sorry and rescheduled for another time?”

“Mom,” Douglas said, standing up. “You are never going to believe what Jess did. She—”

“I already heard all about what your sister did,” Mom said. She’d crossed the street into our yard now and noticed the garbage can Tasha had nearly hit. She started tugging it towards the garage. “That’s just lovely, Jessica, getting yourself involved in busting up a porn ring. I understand that Wilkins boy was there, as well. Why am I not surprised?”

“Mom.” Douglas looked annoyed. “Jessica got Mr. Whitehead to donate three million dollars to—”

“I beg your pardon, Douglas,” Mom said, glaring at him. “But I am speaking to Jessica. Well?” She brushed her hands off on her slacks. “What do you have to say for yourself? Because I had to stand here and try to keep Karen Sue from crying—yes,crying —over how you treated her this morning. I understand that perhaps you had more pressing concerns, but…” Her eyes narrowed behind her sunglasses as she stared at the porch. “What’s going on with you, Jessica? You look…different.”

Maybe because right then, I was thinking about killing her.

“Ma,” Douglas said. “She—”

“Don’t call me Ma,” Mom said automatically. “Jessica, what exactly is going on here? You show up out of the blue, and the next thing I know, you’re involved in some kind of teen runaway porn scandal. You should have seen Mrs. Leskowski’s expression when she came up to me in the Kroger just now to tell me all about it. Butter wouldn’t have melted in that woman’s mouth. It’s almost like she thinks the rest of us don’t remember what Mark did—”

Suddenly Mom whipped off her sunglasses, apparently to get a better look at me.“Jessica. Did you get your powers back?”

Oh, brother.

“I gotta go,” I said, getting up. Because suddenly, I had a burning need to take my bike out for a little spin.

“Wait,” Mom said. “Jessica. Did you? You did, didn’t you? Oh, Jessica.”

“Come on, Mom.” Douglas looked annoyed. “Get with the program. You want to know thereally good news? She got Randy Whitehead to donate three million—”

“Why didn’t you tell me, Jessica?” Mom, ignoring Douglas, asked me. “Does Dr. Krantz know?”

My eyes widened. “God. I hope not.”

“Well, Jessica. You have to tell him. I mean, there are still people out there that I’m sure they’d like to—”

“Mom!” I stared at her. I couldn’t believe this. I really couldn’t. I was so distracted that I found myself slipping Rob’s grandmother’s ring on and off my left middle finger. Then I figured I’d better leave it on, so I wouldn’t lose it. I had to give it back to him, after all.

“You can’t have it both ways,” I said, coming down off the porch steps and heading for Blue Beauty. “You can’t have a daughter who’s normal, like Karen Sue Hankey, and a daughter with psychic powers, like me. You have to decide. You have to decide which one you want.”

Because that’s what my Juilliard scholarship, I knew, represented to my mom—that I was normal. Which is what she’d always wanted—a normal daughter, like Karen Sue Hankey. Not one who wouldn’t put on a dress, loved motorcycles, and could find missing people in her sleep.

Well, she’d gotten her wish. For the entirety of this past year, I’d been the normal daughter Mom had always wanted.

But no more. No more normal for me.

Was she going to be able to deal with that?

WasI ?

“Jessica,” Mom said, stepping in front of me, effectively blocking my path to the garage. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Just that maybe if you had ever supported me in anything I ever did—besides going to Juilliard—I might have turned out more the way you wanted me to.”

Mom’s eyebrows went up. WAY up.

“What are you talking about?” she demanded. “You know your father and I have always supported you, in everything you’ve ever done—”

“Not about Rob, you didn’t,” I said.

Mom looked shocked. “Isthat what this is about? That boy? I can’t believe you’re even giving him a second’s thought, after the way he treated you—”

“He treated me that way because ofyou , Mom. Because of your stupid statutory-rape speech. You totally scared him off—”

“I’m glad I did,” Mom said indignantly. “Jessica, I know you’ve always had self-esteem issues, but believe me, you can do a lot better than a common grease monkey with a criminal record.”

“For swimming after hours at a public pool, Ma,” I said. “That’s what Rob was on probation for. For trespassing.”

Behind me, I heard Douglas burst out laughing. “For real?” he wanted to know. “That’s why he got busted?”

I whirled around to face him. “It’s not funny!” I shrieked. Although, of course, ordinarily I probably would have found it hilarious. All that wondering, all that worrying, for years, and over what? A midnight swim.

I swung back around to face Mom. But before I could get a word out, she was saying, “If he really loved you, Jessica, he’d have waited for you. The fact that he did run away, just because of my little speech…well, that shows you something about him, doesn’t it?”

“Yes,” I said tensely. “It shows me that he loved me enough to respect my parents’ wishes. And do you have any idea what he did while he was waiting for me to turn eighteen, Ma?”

“I’ve told you before,” she said irritably. “Don’t call me Ma.”

“He bought his own business,” I went on as if she hadn’t spoken. “And his own house. He’s probably earningmore than a hundred thousand a year, fixing up motorcycles for rich Baby Boomers,and he’s going to college at the same time. What do you think aboutthat , Ma?”

“I think,” Mom said, her mouth flattening to a straight line, “that you’re forgetting one very important thing.”

“What?”

“That you saw him kissing another girl. You’ve never seen Skip kissing another girl, have you?”

I stepped around her and headed to my bike.

“Well?” Mom wanted to know. “Have you? No. You haven’t, have you?”

“Only because no other girl wouldlet Skip kiss her,” Douglas pointed out, causing Tasha to start laughing so hard, she had to slap a hand over her mouth to stifle it.

I pulled my bike from the garage, kicking the doors closed behind me with one booted foot.

“Where are you going?” Mom demanded. “Wait, don’t tell me. You’re going to seehim , aren’t you?”

“No,” I said, lowering my helmet over my head. “I’m going to get away fromyou .”

And then I gunned my engine a few more times than was strictly necessary, just to drown out whatever Mom said next, and drove away.

Nineteen

“Ruth?”

The voice on the other end of the phone sounded groggy. “Jess? Is that you? God, what time is it?”

I glanced at the alarm clock on my nightstand. “Oops,” I said. “It’s one in the morning. Sorry, I didn’t realize it was so late. Did I wake you up?”

“Yeah, you woke me up.” Now Ruth sounded less groggy and more alarmed. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” I said. I held the cell phone closer to my ear, blinking up at the ceiling in my night-darkened bedroom. After an evening of driving aimlessly around the countryside—then returning home to find Mom still sulking in her room, and Dad working late at the restaurant—I’d amused myself by watching home-improvement shows.

Only all these did was make me think of Rob, who’d done a much better job improving his house than any of the people I saw on TV.

“I mean, nothing’s really wrong,” I said to Ruth. “I just…I really need to talk to you. I think…I think I did something really stupid.”

“What did you do?” Ruth asked, her voice filled with dread.

“I…I think Rob proposed, and I just sort of…walked out.”

“You think Rob proposed?” I could tell Ruth was sitting up, since her voice suddenly got much clearer. “What do you mean, youthink he proposed? Did he give you a ring?”

I gazed at Rob’s grandmother’s ring, still around the third finger on my left hand. It was dark in my room, but I could still make out the diamond in the middle of the band. There were smaller diamonds set all around it, in some curlicue gold stuff. I bet Karen Sue Hankey would know what that curlicue gold stuff was called.

“Well,” I said. “Yes. But—”

“Holy crap,” Ruth said. “Heproposed !”

Which is when a male voice, sounding like it was coming from somewhere very close to Ruth, said in the background, “Hewhat ?”

The weird thing was, I could have sworn the voice was Mikey’s.

“Ruth?” I asked in the silence that followed. “Was that—”

“That was Skip,” Ruth said quickly. “He came in here to see who I was talking to.”

“Really,” I said. “Because it sounded like he was in bed with you. And it sounded more like—”

“I can’t believe Rob proposed!” Ruth interrupted. “That is amazing, Jess! I mean, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, but that’s the thing. He didn’treally propose. He told me he wasgoing to propose when I got back from Afghanistan. But then I—well, you know.”

“Saw him with Miss Boobs-As-Big-As-Your-Head?”

“Right. And he seemed to think it would be better if he just let me go through whatever it was he seemed to think I was going through, at the time.”

“Which,” Ruth said, “in retrospect, wasn’t such a bad thing, Jess. I mean, you have to admit, you were a mess back then.”

This was so not what I called her to hear.

“What happened to‘he’s the guy who let you walk away when you needed him most’ ?” I asked indignantly. “Suddenly you’re on his side?”

“Of course not,” Ruth said. “But look how things turned out. You’re a lot better now. And he still gave you the ring. Which means he must still want to. Marry you, I mean.”

“I’m not sure,” I said. “He didn’t so much as give me the ring as throw it at me. And I just sort of hung on to it. The thing is, Ruth—” And suddenly I found myself pouring out the whole story—Hannah, and Randy, and the videotapes, and the scrapbook, and the things Rob had told me that afternoon. All of it.

And when I’d finished, Ruth said, “Well, it’s obvious he’s still in love with you. The question is, are you still in love with him? I mean, would you take him back? In spite of Miss Boobs-As-Big-As-Your-Head?”

I had to think about that.

“It’s not like she’s in the picture anymore,” I said slowly. “I mean, that I can see. And, I mean, we were broken up then…sort of. The thing is, I don’t even know if he’d take me back. You know, if I offered.”

“He gave you a ring.”

“He THREW it at me.”

“Well, why don’t you ask him?”

“What? Just go up to him and be all,‘Hey, do you still want to marry me?’ ”

“Basically, yeah. Why not?”

I stared at the ceiling. “Because what if he says no? What if he thinks I’m still”—I swallowed—“broken?”

“Then you give him the ring back, say sayonara, and hop on the first flight back here, and I’ll find you a totally hot new guy who fully appreciates what an amazing person you are.”

“Tell her if she wants us to, we’ll still beat him up for her,” whispered the male voice very close to Ruth, apparently thinking I wouldn’t overhear.

Only I did.

And this time, I knew it wasn’t Skip.

“Ruth,” I said. “Why is my brother Mike in BED WITH YOU?”

“Crap,” Ruth said. Then, apparently to Mike, she said, “I told you she could hear you.”

“Hi, Jess,” Mikey called in the background.

“Oh my God.” I was sitting up, convinced I was going to hyperventilate. It wasn’t as if I hadn’t seen it coming. It was just so…so…

Gross.

“I can’t believe I only go away for two days,” I said disgustedly, “and you two have already hopped into bed together.”

“Jess,” Ruth said, sounding worried. “It’s not like that, really. I—I—”

“Oh my God,” I said. “If you say you love my brother, I’ll barf. I swear it.”

“Well, it’s true,” Ruth said. “I think I always have—”

While this was true, I still didn’t want to have to hear about it.

“Put Mike on the phone,” I said to her.

“But, Jess—”

“Just do it.”

A second later, Mike’s deep voice was saying, “Jess. It’s not what you think. I really—”

“If you break her heart,” I said to him, “I will break your face. Do you understand?”

Mike sounded stunned. “Isn’t that what you said to Tasha, about Douglas?”

“Yes.”

“Shouldn’t you be saying that to Ruth, and not me?”

“No,” I said. “Because in this instance, my loyalties lie with Ruth, not you.”

“Oh, thanks a lot,” Mike said, sounding sarcastic.

“Well,” I said. “She’s my best friend. You’re just my brother.”

“I happen,” Mike said, “to love her.”

“Oh God.” The nachos I’d heated up in the microwave for dinner came up a little. “You’re going to make me sick. Literally. Put Ruth back on the phone.”

“Did Rob really propose?”

“Put Ruth back on the phone.”

“What are you going to say? Yes? If you say yes, are you going to stay in Indiana?”

“Why?” I asked, though I wasn’t sure I wanted to know.

“Because if you stay in Indiana, then I can move in here with Ruth,” he said, “when I transfer to Columbia.”

“You’re transferring schools for a girl?Again? Did you forget what happened last time you did that?”

“Shut up, Jess,” Mike said. “It’s different this time.”

“You better believe it is,” I said. “Because if you screw this one up, you’re—”

“—dead. Yes, I got the picture, thanks. So. What are you going to do?”

“If one more person asks me that,” I began in a warning tone. Then I broke off, struck by a thought. “Hey, where’s Skip, anyway? What does he think about how you guys have turned the place into a den of sin? What does he think about what you’re doing to hissister ?”

“Skip’s at the Jersey Shore,” Mike said. “With some girl he—”

“Okay, that’s enough about Skip,” Ruth said, apparently having wrestled the phone back from my brother. “When are you coming home?Are you coming home?”

“I don’t know,” I said, chewing my lower lip. I hadn’t mentioned anything to her about Douglas’s offer of a teaching job at his new alternative high school. Because I wasn’t sure I could stay in this town, knowing that Rob was living in it, too, and not be with him.

As if she were the one with the psychic powers, and not me, Ruth said, “Jess. Just ask him. Okay? Now get some sleep.”

She hung up.

I sat there, blinking down at my cell phone. Then I placed it gently on the nightstand and flopped back down against the pillows. How was it, I wondered, that everyone—everyone I knew, anyway—was getting some, except for me? What had I done wrong? How had I screwed everything up in that arena so very, very badly?

It was kind of ironic that as I was thinking this to myself, a hailstorm of rocks suddenly struck the bay windows in my bedroom. Not hard enough to break the glass, but definitely hard enough for the loud rattle they made to wake me…

…if I’d actually been asleep, that is.

Only one person had ever thrown pebbles at my bedroom window before. The same person who, earlier that day, had thrown an engagement ring at me.

Tossing back my comforter, I went to the closest window and peered down, hardly daring to hope that it would actually be him.

But it was. He was standing in the moonlight in jeans and a black T-shirt, just pulling his arm back to let loose another volley of stones. I hastily flung open the window and screen, leaned out, and whispered, “Hold on. I’ll be right down.”

Then I grabbed a cotton robe I’d thrown into my overnight bag when I’d packed so hastily for the trip home, and slipped it on over my tank top and boxers. I wished I, like Ruth, had given a little more thought to my nightwear, and maybe bought something a little sexier to wear to bed, like her cute camis and matching tap pants, which my brother Mike was apparently currently—ew, that was WAY too gross to think about.

Besides, Rob wasn’t here, I’m sure, because of any romantic feelings he might be harboring for me. Probably his sister had run away again.

Or maybe he just wanted his ring back.

The thought caused me to pause midway down the stairs.

That’s right. He probably wanted his ring back.

And suddenly, I found I couldn’t breathe.

My heart banging ridiculously hard in my ears, I crept the rest of the way down the stairs. The house was in darkness. Both my parents were asleep. Only Chigger was awake. He climbed down off the living room couch—the one Mom had forbidden him from sleeping on, so he only did it when she wasn’t looking—and came to the door to greet me.

“Sit,” I said to him, quietly unlocking the front door. “Stay.”

The dog did neither. He licked my hand, then walked silently back to the sofa and climbed back onto it. So much for knowing over fifteen commands.

I opened the screen door and slipped out onto the porch. Rob was already there waiting in the shadow from the porch roof cast by the moonlight. I couldn’t see his eyes. They just looked like twin pools of darkness to me.

But I could see the place in his neck where his pulse beat. For some reason, a shaft of moonlight fell right across it.

And I could see it was thrumming almost as fast as my own.

“Hey,” he said in a soft voice.

It was a neutralhey . Sort of a questioninghey . Not likeHey, good to see you. More like,Hey…what’s going on here?

Like I knew.

“They have this new invention now,” I whispered. “It’s called cell phones. You can call people now in the middle of the night, if you need to, instead of throwing rocks at their window.”

Rob said, “You never gave me your cell number.”

“Oh.” Well, I never said I wasn’t an idiot.

And suddenly, I knew. I knew why he was there. And it had nothing to do with his sister.

Cold hard fear gripped my heart. I found myself slipping my left hand behind my back.

Because I knew then. I knew I wasn’t giving that ring back. Not unless he pried it off my dead body. I’d never worn a ring before in my life—I’m not exactly a jewelry girl.

But I’d gotten used to wearing this one, and fast. I wasn’t ready to give it up. I didn’twant to give it up.

And I knew, right there on the porch, that I wasn’t going to. Instead, I was going to do what Ruth had told me to.

I was going to ask him.

Unless, of course, I didn’t have to. Because if he held out his hand and went, “Give it back,” that would be a pretty strong indicator that the answer was no.

“Are you missing something?” I asked him, still keeping my hand behind my back. “Something else, besides your sister, I mean? Is that why you’re here?”

A strange sort of expression passed across his face. I couldn’t tell what it was, exactly, because his head was still in shadow. But I saw some of the tension seem to leave his shoulders.

“My sister left this afternoon,” he said. “With her mother. After stopping off at the police station for about a trillion hours. Hannah’s not what I’m missing.”

I held up my left hand.

“Is it this, then?”

He sucked in his breath.

“You have it?” he asked. “God, I thought I was going crazy. I was looking everywhere.”

“You couldn’t wait until morning?” I asked him. “You had to come get it now, in the middle of the night?”

“I didn’t realize you must have taken it,” he said, “until a little while ago. And then I—”

He broke off. I still couldn’t see his face so well. But it was clear he wasn’t exactly smiling.

“You what?” I asked.

“I had to know,” he said, finally, with a shrug, “if you took it. Well, not so muchif. More like…why.”

My heart still banging in my ears, I took a step towards him. I knew the moonlight was full on my face. But I didn’t care. I didn’t care what he saw there.

“Why do you think?” I asked, tilting my chin up.

“I don’t know what to think,” Rob said. “The whole way here, I was thinking I was crazy. I mean, whywould you take it? Unless…”

He took a step towards me. I still held up my left hand. The moonlight caught on the diamond, and caused it to sparkle crazily.

“Jess,” Rob said in a cautious voice. “What are you doing? Seriously.”

“Seriously?” I shook my head. “I really don’t know.” Because I really didn’t. All I knew was that my throat was dry as sand and that my heart was doing crazy things inside my chest. I think it might have been a jig. “But you’re like the hundredth person to ask me that today. Do you want it back?”

“If you’re not gonna marry me,” Rob said. He seemed confused. I didn’t blame him. “Then, yeah, I want it back.”

“What if I am?” I asked him, though it was kind of hard to talk, considering the fact that I couldn’t seem to breathe anymore.

“Am what?”

Then Rob took a step forward that brought him out from beneath the shadow of the porch roof. And even though his back was still to the moon, I could see his eyes.

“Jess,” he said in a warning tone.

Which is when I took the deepest breath I could—considering I couldn’t seem to inhale at all—reached out to grab a fistful of his shirt, dragged him the two-step space between us, and said, my face just a few inches below his, “Rob. Will you marry me?”

He looked down at me expressionlessly. “You,” he said, “are insane.”

“I mean it,” I said. Amazingly, the second the words were out of my mouth, the crazy banging in my ears stopped. And I could breathe. I could actually breathe. “I’ve been an idiot. I had a lot of crap to deal with. And I think I’m done dealing with it now. Almost all of it, anyway. Obviously I still have to finish school—and so do you—and all of that. But when we’re done with school, I think we should do it.”

Rob looked about as serious as I’d ever seen him look. “What about your mom?” he asked.

“In case you haven’t noticed, I’m over eighteen,” I pointed out. “Besides, she’ll come around. So, are you in?”

I will admit, it wasn’t exactly easy to breathe while I was waiting for his reply. In fact, it was impossible.

So it was a good thing he said, “I’m in,” before I ran out of oxygen and collapsed right there onto the porch.

I grinned up at him. “Good,” I said.

And then, just like that, we were kissing.

Well, okay, maybe not just like that. I might have had something to do with it, by standing up on my tiptoes and throwing my arms around his neck.

I am definitely responsible for what happened next, which was that I grabbed another handful of his shirt and started leading him to the front door.

“Jess.” Rob was grinning. Even in the shadow of the porch roof, I could see his smile. “What are you doing?”

“Shhhh,” I said. “Follow me. And be quiet or you’ll wake them.”

“Jess.” Rob let himself be led inside as far as the foyer before he put on the brakes. “Come on,” he whispered, as Chigger came over from the couch to give him a few desultory licks before retiring again. “This isn’t right.”

“No one’ll ever know,” I assured him. “You can sneak out before they wake up. Besides,” I added, “it’s all right.We’re engaged .”

Which is how Rob got to see my room that night for the first time. And a lot more than just my room, actually.

Twenty

He woke up before I did.

“Jess,” he was whispering, when I opened my eyes to find the gray light of dawn turning my bedroom walls pink. Also to find Rob putting his shirt back on, a sight truly worth waking up so early for. “I’m gonna go.”

“Don’t,” I said, throwing my arms around his waist. I’d apparently missed the putting back on of the jeans. Too bad.

“I have to,” he said, laughingly prying my arms off him. “What if your parents wake up? Is that really how you want them finding out about us?”

Flopping disgruntledly back against the pillows, I said, “I guess not. Still. What are you doing later?”

“Seeing you,” Rob said as he sat down on my window seat to tug on his motorcycle boots. It was extremely odd to see Rob Wilkins in my bedroom at all.

But it was especially weird to see him sitting on the lace-covered pillows with which my mom had decorated the built-in window seat beneath my bay windows. It was sort of like seeing Batman shopping for shampoo at the drugstore, or something. Just completely out of place.

“I have to go to the garage for a while,” Rob said after he’d gotten both shoes on, and stood up. “Want to come over and grab some lunch around noon?”

“I could bring you lunch,” I said. “I could make some sandwiches and cupcakes or something.”

Rob looked at me. “Did you just say you’d make cupcakes?”

“Yeah,” I said apologetically. “I don’t know what came over me. Since that would so never happen.”

“I’m sure if you did make cupcakes someday,” Rob said chivalrously, “they’d be delicious.”

“No, they wouldn’t.”

“Well, no, you’re probably right. Still. It was a nice thought.”

“I’ll just see you at noon,” I said. And rolled out of bed. “Here, let me walk you out.”

Rob tried to argue with me, that he could find his own way downstairs. But I didn’t want to run the risk of him running into one of my parents alone. I didn’t want him calling off the engagement after only six hours.

But I managed to get him out of the house safely. The only person in the house besides us who was up was Chigger, and he just checked us for food. Not finding any, he went back to the couch.

I stood on the porch in the cool morning air. Even though it was so early, I wasn’t a bit tired. That’s because I’d slept like a log for a change.

“Where’s your truck?” I asked when I’d looked around and seen only a nondescript sedan and—hilariously—a Trans Am parked on the street.

“I parked around the corner,” Rob admitted with a sheepish smile, before kissing me good-bye. “I didn’t want to arouse the suspicions of your neighbors.”

“You’re such a gentleman,” I said. He’d started down the porch steps, but I held on to one of his hands. “Hey, Rob?”

“What?”

“Did my dad buy my bike from you? Blue Beauty, I mean?”

Rob’s grin was crooked. “Yeah. He asked me what kind of bike I thought you’d like, and…well, I had that one picked out for you a long time before he asked. Let’s put it that way.”

“I knew it,” I said, my heart feeling as if it were about to bubble over with joy. “Bye.”

“Bye.”

He seemed to be having trouble containing the bubbling over of his own heart—at least if the way he smiled at me was any indication. I had never seen him look so happy.

Then he left, hurrying down the street to get his truck. I stood and watched him disappear around the corner. In fact, that’s why I didn’t notice the driver’s door to the Trans Am parked across the street had opened. Because I was too busy watching Rob disappear around the corner.

Which is why I didn’t realize Randy Whitehead Junior was coming towards me until he was halfway across the yard.

“Randy,” I said when I finally noticed him. “When’d you make bail?”

Seriously it didn’t even occur to me to be scared. That’s how giddy I still was from everything that had happened during the night.

Even when Randy didn’t say anything—just kept coming towards me with a very intent expression on that weaselly looking face, hovering beneath his hundred-dollar haircut—it didn’t seem weird. I just assumed he hadn’t heard me.

“What are you doing here, Randy?” I asked him. “You come to apologize?”

But when he climbed the steps up to where I was standing in two long strides, then seized me by the throat with one hand, throwing me back against the screen door, I realized he hadn’t actually come over to apologize.

“You,” he pressed his cheek against mine to whisper into my ear, “have ruined my life.”

I tried to scream. I really did. But his hand was crushing my larynx. I couldn’t even breathe, let alone utter a sound.

I would like to add that Randy? He smelled extremely ripe, a combination of body odor, Calvin For Men, and what I was pretty sure was tequila. My eyes started to water, and not just from lack of oxygen, either.

“I wasn’t hurting anybody,” he hissed raggedly in my ear. “Those girls wanted it. Theywanted it. And now my mom says I’m a disgrace, and my dad says—you know what my dad says?”

I was clawing at his hands, trying to get them off my neck. I’d tried kicking him, but being barefoot, I didn’t seem to be doing much damage. I tried kneeing him in the groin, but he kept moving out of the way. It was hard to get much leverage, anyway, considering the fact that he was holding me a couple of inches off the ground.

“My dad says if I kill you, to keep you from telling my mom about Eric, he might even forgive me for being such a screwup someday.” Randy’s breath was as ripe as the rest of him. It had been a while since he’d hit the mints. “So that’s why I’m here. I was hoping you’d come out of the house and get on that bike of yours, and I could just wait till no one else was around, and knock you off it and into a ditch or something. But you know what? I like this better. Because take a look. No one else is around. Just you. And me.”

It was hard to tell, over the roaring in my ears. But I thought I could hear Chigger barking. Yes. Chigger was definitely barking. And hurling himself angrily against the screen door, right behind. I could feel his claws. That ought to wake Mom and Dad up.Good boy, Chigger. Good boy.

“I’ll tell you what, though,” Randy said. “I’ll let you go if you tellme who Eric is. Because I really, really want to know.”

And he loosened his hold on my throat—just a little—so that I could tell him. I choked down a lungful of air. And croaked, “Bite me.”

Wham!The hands went right back around my neck.

“That’s not very polite,” Randy commented. “Jesus, why won’t that dog shut the hellup ?”

On the wordup , something happened to Randy’s head. It disappeared.

Or at least, that’s how it seemed from my angle. It wasn’t until his hands suddenly left my throat again—and I was falling to the porch floor, gasping for breath—that I realized Randy’s head was still very much attached to Randy’s body. It had just seemed to disappear, due to the force of the blow Rob had delivered to his jaw.

Collapsed against the screen door, I was in the perfect position to watch Rob pummel the life out of Randy Whitehead Junior. I got to see some bloody bits of capped tooth fly by—very gratifying—and was able to explain to my startled parents, who’d finally been roused from bed, that the reason Rob was killing Randy Whitehead was that Randy had been trying to kill me.

Still, it wasn’t my dad who broke up the fight—though, to his credit, he tried, which was an almost comical sight, this middle-aged man in boxers and an undershirt, trying to pull Rob off the drunk pornographer who’d taken advantage of his sister, and then tried to kill his fiancée.

No, it was the man who strode into my yard right after that, gun drawn, and shouted, “All of you! Freeze, or I’ll shoot! FBI!”

“Oh,” my mother said from where she’d been helping me up from the porch floor. “Good morning, Dr. Krantz.”

Keeping his pistol trained on Randy—who really didn’t look as if he was too eager to go anywhere, anyway—Cyrus Krantz said, “Good morning, Toni. I was hoping I wasn’t too early to stop by for coffee. I can see now that I came just in time. Up to your old tricks again, eh, Jessica?”

By that time, my dad had managed to pry Rob off Randy. Now Rob reached up to dab at his bloody lower lip with the back of a hand, before glancing at me and saying with a grin, “I told you it was time you let someone rescueyou for a change.”

“Good one,” I croaked. It hurt to talk. “What brought you back here?”

He held up a bare wrist. “I forgot my watch.”

“Aw,” I said. “Of course. It’s on my nightstand.”

“What,” my mom wanted to know, “is going on here? Jessica, why was this man trying to kill you? And why is Rob here? And what’s his watch doing on your nightstand?”

“Oh,” I said, holding up my left hand to show her Rob’s grandmother’s ring. “It’s all right. We’re engaged.”

“Mazel tov,” said Dr. Krantz. He hadn’t stopped pointing his gun at Randy Whitehead Junior, who was still moaning on the porch floor.

“You’rewhat ?” Mom yelled. Then, to my dad, she shrieked, “Will you shut that dog of yours up?”

“Chigger! Down,” Dad yelled. And the dog stopped barking. “Toni. I think you should go inside and call the police.”

“Already done,” Dr. Krantz said, hanging up his cell phone. “I asked for an ambulance, too. That young man’s nose appears to be broken.”

My mom stayed where she was. “You’reengaged ?” she asked me, looking astonished.

“Oh, yeah,” Rob said, running a hand through his dark hair and making it stand up even more wildly on end. “This probably isn’t a good time to ask, but Mr. and Mrs. Mastriani, I’d like to marry your daughter, if that’s all right with you. Well, I’m going to even if it isn’t all right. But I’d prefer to have your blessing.”

“She has to finish college first,” my dad said with a grunt, from where he was examining the bloodstains on the porch floor. “I’m gonna need to hit those with the hose before they dry or they’ll never come out.”

“Joe!” My mother’s eyes were filled with tears. “Is that all you have to say about this?”

“Well, whadduya want me to say?” Dad asked. “He’s a good guy. Look what he just did. He saved our daughter’s life.”

“Yeah,” I said to her hoarsely. “Skip never did that.”

“I need coffee,” Mom whimpered, just as the wail of a police siren filled the air.

“Mom.” It was hard to talk, since my throat still hurt pretty badly. But I put my arm around her and gave her a squeeze. “Don’t think of it as losing a daughter. Think of it as finally getting her back.”

My mom looked down at me. She tried to smile, though the result was a bit watery.

“I don’t understand a single thing that’s happening right now,” she said. “But…” She looked over at Rob, who was carefully watching her. “Welcome to the family, Rob.”

A relieved grin broke out over Rob’s face. “Thanks, Mrs. Mastriani,” he said.

“Oh, what the heck,” Mom said, as the first of the police cruisers came screaming up in front of the house. “Call me Ma.”

Twenty-one

It wasn’t until the ambulance had taken Randy away—in police custody, for the second time in twenty-four hours—and I’d given my statement (this time they let me write it in my own dining room. I didn’t have to go down to the station house, for a change), and Rob and my dad had gone off to work, and my mom had retired to her bedroom with a migraine, that I finally got to shower and dress, then sit down with the man who had, after all, come all the way from Washington, DC, to see me.

It was weird to find him sitting on my porch swing. Weird, and yet strangely not weird, too. There’d been a time when the sight of him had terrified me, because he’d represented everything I didn’t want—the glare of the media spotlight that had, once upon a time, so upset Douglas; working for a government I didn’t trust, with an agency I wasn’t sure I believed in.

Then I’d gotten to know him—Cyrus—better and realized he actually really did mean well. And that the truth is, he’s just a huge nerd with a secret liking for peanut M&M’s. He was even dressed in the height of nerd summer chic, in a short-sleeved dress shirt with a clip-on tie, khakis, and pocket protector, which is what he’d worn almost daily in Afghanistan, as well. The only difference was that here in the U.S., he preferred an ankle holster for his service piece. Over there, it had been a shoulder holster.

It was nice to know some things, anyway, never changed.

“So what are you doing here?” I asked him—not in an unfriendly way. “Oh, no, wait. Let me guess: You heard I got my powers back.”

“Kind of hard to keep something like that a secret,” Cyrus said, reaching for the cup of coffee my mom had poured for him—and all the officers—before retiring. “Especially when you’re using it to bust up interstate amateur porn rings.”

I just looked at him. “You tapped my cell phone, didn’t you?”

“Of course,” he said. “When you called all of those girls yesterday morning to tell them what Randy had done and how you intended to punish him…that was inspired. And you called their parents, as well, to see if they’d welcome their daughters home, but carefully didn’t reveal to them just where, exactly, their child was…that was brilliant, as well. Some of your best work, I would have to say.”

“I wish,” I said, “that you guys would cut it out. The phone tapping stuff, I mean. Because I’m not coming back, you know.”

“To work for us,” Cyrus asked, “or New York?”

“Neither,” I said. “I mean…both.”

“Jessica,” Cyrus said, shaking his head. “I wouldn’t dream of asking.”

I blinked at him. “Really? That’s not why you’re here?”

“Certainly not. You know, we’ve all been so worried about you. It’s good to hear you’re feeling better. And I’m especially pleased to hear about you and Rob. That’s some excellent news. And I understand your brother’s asked you to come teach at this alternative school he’s opening. Are you going to do that?”

“Yes,” I said guardedly. I couldn’t believe it. He wasn’t going to ask me to come back?Really? “I’m going to transfer to Indiana and get my teaching certificate.”

“Very good. You were always excellent with children. What I really came here to say, Jessica, since you ask, is that…well, I know we’ve had our differences in the past. But I think all we’ve both ever wanted is to help make this world a better place. God knows, you’ve done more than your share in this capacity. We pushed you…well, we pushed you more than we should have, and the result was that eventually, you had nothing left to give. Now that you’ve got your powers back, what you do with them is entirely your own choice. No one would fault you if you decided never to use them again. You have many other strengths, and I fully expect that you’ll have just as much success bettering the planet using them as you did using your psychic abilities. But, in the off chance you should like to come back—”

“Aha!” I cried. Then wished I hadn’t because the word really strained my already swollen throat.

Still, I’d known this was coming. And not because I have ESP, either.

“—I wanted to let you know there will always be a place for you on my team.”

Wait. What?

I stared at him some more. “That’s it? No begging?”

“No begging.”

“No guilt trips?”

“None of those, either. You’ve done your duty, Jessica. No one—least of all me—could ask you to do anymore. If you wanted to, that’s another story. But since you don’t…” He shrugged, as if to say,So be it.

“You’re serious?” I still couldn’t quite believe it. “I’m off the hook?”

“Completely.”

“No more tapping my phone?”

“None.”

“No more following me?”

“None.”

“You’re not going to call a press conference to announce my return to the world of psychic people-finding?”

“Not unless you wish me to.”

“Or tell me about some kid missing in Des Moines whose Mommy wants him back so dearly?”

“Jessica.” Cyrus Krantz climbed to his feet. “I already told you. You have done more than your fair share of good for others in this world. I think it’s time you concentrated on doing some good for yourself for a change. And that’s what I came here to tell you.”

I had to crane my neck to see his face, since he was towering so far above me.

“It is not,” I said. “You came here to see if I wanted to come back.”

“Well,” he admitted, looking sheepish. “Of course. But since you don’t want to, well, that’s another story. So instead I’ll just wish you luck. Call me if you ever need anything. And tell your mother I hope she’ll be feeling better soon. I’m sure she will. The thing with you and Rob…well, it will just take some getting used to for her. But she’s a sensible woman. She’ll come around.”

“I know she will,” I said.

He hesitated on the top step. “Of course, if something came along that wereally needed your help on…”

Nowthis was more like the Cyrus I knew.

“You can call me,” I said with a laugh.

He looked visibly relieved.

“Good,” he said. “Well, that’s all I wanted to know. Good-bye for now. And remember…it’s time to do some good foryou , Jessica.”

With that proclamation, he strolled back to the waiting four-door sedan with the tinted windows—not the same one that had been parked in front of my house yesterday morning—that I hadn’t noticed until just then, the one that had been parked just a little down the street from Randy’s Trans Am.

No sooner had he driven away than my cell phone chirped. I pulled it from my back pocket and said, “Hello?”

All I could hear on the other end was shrieking.

“Yes, Ruth,” I said calmly. “How’d you find out?”

“Mike just got off the phone with your dad,” Ruth said. “Can I be a bridesmaid?”

“Ew,” I said. “No way. I’m not having any of those.”

“What?” Ruth sounded majorly disappointed. “Why not?”

“Um, because it’s my wedding, and I’m not having any bridesmaids,” I pointed out. “You can be my witness, if you want.”

“Do I get to wear a cute dress?”

“You can wear whatever you want. I don’t care.”

“Your mom,” Ruth said, “is going to be so disappointed in this whole affair, I can just tell. But I’m really happy for you.”

“Yeah,” I said sarcastically. “Because now you get to share your room with Mike and not me.”

“Shut up,” Ruth said, laughing. “You were an awesome roommate. Well, except for the night terrors. Speaking of terror, how’s your mom coping with it, anyway?”

“She’ll be all right,” I said. Because I knew she would be. Eventually.

“Does Douglas know?”

“Not yet. Rob and I are meeting him and Tasha for lunch in—” I looked at the time. “Right now, actually. I have to go. I’ll talk to you later. And, Ruth?”

“Yeah?”

“Can I beyour bridesmaid? When you marry Mike?”

Ruth, as I’d known she would, screamed happily again and hung up. Smiling, I went to the garage and pulled out my bike, then cruised on over to Wilkins Auto and Motorcycle Repair. I can’t say that, when I pulled up to the light on First and Main, and noticed Karen Sue Hankey in the white convertible in the lane next to me, I was particularly surprised. I raised the face shield of my helmet and yelled, “Karen Sue!”

She looked over at me, startled. “Jess?”

“Hey,” I said. “Sorry about blowing you off yesterday. I had a lot on my mind.”

“I know,” Karen Sue said unsmilingly. “I read the paper this morning.”

“So,” I said. “Want to reschedule?”

“Sure,” Karen Sue said. “When are you leaving to go back to New York?”

“Oh,” I said. “Never.”

Karen Sue’s mouth fell open. “What?”

“I’m staying here,” I said with a shrug.

“Here?”Karen Sue looked shocked.“Why?”

“Because,” I said. The light turned green. “I’m engaged to a local business owner. Call me!”

I left Karen Sue sitting at the light in shock. When I glanced in my rearview mirror before making the turn into the parking lot of Rob’s garage, I saw that she was still sitting there, openmouthed, a line of cars behind her, honking.

Rob had done a lot, I saw at a glance, to his uncle’s garage. For one thing, the place was a lot cleaner. And for another, they were servicing European cars as well as American and Japanese models. In fact, as I walked up, I saw Rob in gray coveralls, bent over the engine of a butter-colored Mercedes coupe, behind the wheel of which sat a woman with a lot of blond hair who looked a little familiar, though I couldn’t place her face. At first.

“Try it again,” Rob said to the blonde, who obediently switched on her ignition.

The motor purred to life. Rob, looking satisfied, put the hood down.

“It was just your starter again,” he said, reaching for a rag to wipe the grease from his hands. “It shouldn’t give you any more trouble. Just—”

But he didn’t get to finish, because the blonde had leaped out of the car and hurled herself against him, throwing both arms around his neck.

“Oh, Rob! You are such a miracle worker!” she cried. “I can’t thank you enough!”

And then she laid a great, big kiss on his mouth.

Which is the exact moment when his startled gaze met mine.

And I instantly knew where I’d seen her before.

It was Miss Boobs-As-Big-As-My-Head. Her most memorable attributes, I saw when she finally released Rob and turned around, were clothed in the skimpiest halter top imaginable.

But this time, I didn’t run. This time I crossed the garage until I was standing right in front of her. Then, tilting my head so I could see into her heavily mascaraed eyes, I said, “Hi, I don’t think we’ve met. I’m Jess, Rob’s fiancée.”

Boobs-As-Big-As-My-Head smiled at me in a befuddled way and said, without introducing herself, “Rob’s engaged?”

“Yeah,” I said. “He is. And if you ever try to kiss him like that again, I’ll crack your head open with a socket wrench. Got it?”

The blonde stopped smiling.

“Oh,” she said, her eyes going very wide. “Um. Yeah. I got it. I’m. Uh. I’m really sorry. I didn’t know. I’m just a very affectionate person, and I tend to—”

“Well,” I said with a friendly wink. “Now you do know. So knock it off.”

The blonde looked questioningly at Rob, who was looking amused. And a little bit relieved.

I guess I couldn’t blame him for either.

“You can pay at the counter over there, Nancy,” he said. “Jake has your bill.”

“Okay,” Boobs-As-Big-As-My-Head said, blinking rapidly. “Thanks again, Rob. Nice to meet you, um, Jess. And, um. I’m really sorry. Congratulations.”

“Thanks. Nice meeting you,” I said. “Come back soon.”

On her way to the counter, Nancy nearly tripped over her own platform heels, she was in such a hurry to get away from me. I looked up at Rob, and said, “Guess what?”

“What?” he asked, still grinning.

“I’m not broken anymore,” I said.

“I noticed,” he said, grinning more broadly. “What happened to the whole nonviolence thing?”

“I didn’t hit her,” I said. “Did you see me hit her? I just threatened, is all.”

“You sure did. That was some real self-restraint you exercised, as a matter of fact. So. Is it time for lunch?”

“Time for lunch.”

“Just let me wash up. Hey, so the guys and I were wondering. Now that you have your powers back, does this mean if we have kids, you’re always going to know where to find them?”

I thought about it. “Yes,” I said.

“What about me?” He put his arms around my waist. “Are you always going to know where to find me?”

“Oh, yes,” I said, grinning back at him. “Now that I’ve found the person who’s been missing the longest of all, anyway.”

“Who’s that?” Rob asked, curious.

“Myself,” I said. And hugged him.

Acknowledgments

Many thanks to Jennifer Brown, John Henry Dreyfuss, Laura Langlie, Amanda Maciel, Abby McAden, and Ingrid van der Leeden.

About the Author

MEG CABOTis the author of the bestselling, critically acclaimed Princess Diaries books, which were made into the wildly popular Disney movies of the same name. Her other books for teens include the Mediator series, the 1-800-Where-R-You books,ALL-AMERICAN GIRL, READY OR NOT, TEEN IDOL, AVALON HIGH, andHOW TO BE POPULAR , as well asNICOLA AND THE VISCOUNT andVICTORIA AND THE ROGUE . She also writes books for adults, includingTHE BOY NEXT DOOR, BOY MEETS GIRL, EVERY BOY’S GOT ONE, SIZE 12 IS NOT FAT , andQUEEN OF BABBLE . She currently lives in Key West and New York City with her husband and a primary one-eyed cat named Henrietta, as well as assorted backup cats.

Visit Meg’s website at: www.megcabot.com

Visit www.AuthorTracker.com for exclusive information on your favorite HarperCollins author.

Books by

MEG CABOT

THE 1-800-WHERE-R-YOU BOOKS:

1: WHEN LIGHTNING STRIKES

2: CODE NAME CASSANDRA

3: SAFE HOUSE

4: SANCTUARY

5: MISSING YOU

THE MEDIATOR BOOKS:

THE MEDIATOR1: SHADOWLAND

THE MEDIATOR2: NINTH KEY

THE MEDIATOR3: REUNION

THE MEDIATOR4: DARKEST HOUR

THE MEDIATOR5: HAUNTED

THE MEDIATOR6: TWILIGHT

ALL-AMERICAN GIRL

READY OR NOT: AN ALL-AMERICAN GIRL NOVEL

TEEN IDOL

HOW TO BE POPULAR

AVALON HIGH

NICOLA AND THE VISCOUNT

VICTORIA AND THE ROGUE

THE PRINCESS DIARIES

THE PRINCESS DIARIES, VOLUME II:

PRINCESS IN THE SPOTLIGHT

THE PRINCESS DIARIES, VOLUME III:

PRINCESS IN LOVE

THE PRINCESS DIARIES, VOLUME IV:

PRINCESS IN WAITING

VALENTINE PRINCESS:

A PRINCESS DIARIES BOOK (VOLUME IV AND A QUARTER)

THE PRINCESS DIARIES, VOLUME IV AND A HALF:

PROJECT PRINCESS

THE PRINCESS DIARIES, VOLUME V:

PRINCESS IN PINK

THE PRINCESS DIARIES, VOLUME VI:

PRINCESS IN TRAINING

THE PRINCESS PRESENT:

A PRINCESS DIARIES BOOK (VOLUME VI AND A HALF)

THE PRINCESS DIARIES, VOLUME VII:

PARTY PRINCESS

SWEET SIXTEEN PRINCESS:

A PRINCESS DIARIES BOOK (VOLUME VII AND A HALF)

THE PRINCESS DIARIES, VOLUME VIII:

PRINCESS ON THE BRINK

ILLUSTRATED BY CHESLEY MCLAREN:

PRINCESS LESSONS:

A PRINCESS DIARIES BOOK

PERFECT PRINCESS:

A PRINCESS DIARIES BOOK

HOLIDAY PRINCESS:

A PRINCESS DIARIES BOOK

THE BOY NEXT DOOR

BOY MEETS GIRL

EVERY BOY’S GOT ONE

QUEEN OF BABBLE

SIZE 12 IS NOT FAT

Credits

Cover art © 2007 by Jacquie O’Neill

Cover design by Christopher Stengel

Copyright

MISSING YOU. Copyright © 2006 by Meg Cabot, LLC. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.

Microsoft Reader December 2006 ISBN 978-0-06-125439-0

Library of Congress Catalog Card Number: 2006928091

ISBN-10: 0-06-087430-9—ISBN-13: 978-0-06-087430-8

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