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“I don’t care. Just—yum! Maple creams! Come pig out with me.”
Jane giggles. “I feel bad. They’re for you.”
“If you don’t help me eat them, who will? My mom?”
She laughs even harder. “Fine.” Plucking one, she chomps on it. “So spill. I hear someone cut your brakes?”
I give a quick version of the story. Jane is suitably horrified.
“And that was after running into Tara, Jenna and Mandy at the docks?”
“Yes.”
“Any chance they did it?”
“Can you picture Tara or Mandy on the ground, cutting brake lines?”
“Definitely not. Never. Never ever in a million years.”
“Right.”
“Then who?”
I shouldn’t tell her. I know I shouldn’t. But you reach a point where the need to share yourself with someone is so important. I’m tired of being isolated. Alone.
Lonely.
“Someone texted me a very threatening message last night.”
“What did it say?”
“Welcome back, Lindsay. Ready to play with us again?” I say the words like a robot. The text feels like there’s an evil machine after me. Like the text comes from The Terminator and I’m Sara Connor.
“Oh, God. No, Lindsay. Does your dad know?”
“Drew does, so I assume Daddy knows.”
“What does Drew think?”
“He thinks it’s them.”
“Them?” Her eyes go wide. “You mean...”
“Yes.” I don’t even have to say John, Stellan and Blaine’s names.
“You have to go to the police!”
“Why? So they can just smear me again and not believe me, like last time? No. Drew’s handling it.”
“How?”
“By staying with me at all times.”
“I don’t think that’s a hardship for him.”
“He’s protecting me!”
“In more ways than one.” Her lips twitch with a smile.
