Part 18 (1/2)
I settle myself behind the desktop. The computers are fine, but the connection is mola.s.ses in January. Even bringing up a search engine takes a full minute. I sigh and stretch my neck, willing the computer to move faster. Wondering if I'll actually be able to search and find anything or if I'll just end up sitting here waiting until sometime after graduation. Maybe I could check the microfiche copies of our newspaper for information on the Millers instead.
Or I could abandon all of this private eye c.r.a.p and ask one of the gossip hags, like Abbey Binns. Surely I could pry a little more information out of her.
The search engine pops up, so I type four words into the box. Daniel Tanner Ridgeview Ohio.
The machine grinds miserably for thirty seconds. A whole minute. I could send a telegraph faster than this. Come on, already!
A list of links finally pops up, and to my frustration, I don't see anything incriminating. It's all pretty standard rich-guy stuff. Social mentions, charity donations, reelection to the school board: your basic high society c.r.a.p. High society for Ridgeview anyway. The Tanners are definitely A-listers. I mean, they aren't the Millers. They don't live in one of the Beaumont Beauties. They actually live in one of the cookie-cutter mansions in the newer development on the south side of town. I think they own some sort of medical research company or something.
I scroll through the links, spotting one that clears it up. Tanner Technologies. The news article is from seven or eight months ago. At that point, Mr. Tanner's company had lost some sort of pharmaceutical bid and was in jeopardy of closing down.
Great. I may not be an ace detective, but I've watched enough prime-time cop dramas to know that a total financial meltdown motivates people to do really awful things.
Like manipulating the memories of a run of the mill seventeen-year-old?
G.o.d, this is pointless.
”Oh, Ms. Spinnaker, it's so good to see you.”
I whirl around, thinking she has to be talking to another Ms. Spinnaker, even though there are no other Spinnakers in this town.
I finally meet Mrs. Nesbit's gaze. She's smiling down at me over a stack of hardback books in her arms.
”h.e.l.lo,” I say.
”It's been almost a month since you've been in!” she says, sounding genuinely surprised by this. As far as I know, I haven't stepped foot in this library since elementary school.
So apparently I get to add mystery library visits to my list of things I can't remember.
”Where is that handsome friend of yours?” she asks.
Blake? Blake came here with me? This is just...I can't even. I open and close my mouth a few times before giving up on speech and offering a shrug.
”Well, I can't believe he'd leave you to your studying alone,” she says, getting that wistful look that old women sometimes do when waxing on about young love.
”Oh, Blake and I are actually just friends now,” I say, trying to let her down easy. She looks startled, shaking her head.
”Blake? The Tanner boy? Why, I haven't seen him in a couple of years at least. I was talking about Adam.”
Now she's looking at me with something akin to reproach, like I'm a brazen little hussy with two boys in my pocket. She's got no idea how close she is, but I don't have time for that. I need to find out what in the heck I was doing here with Adam.
I minimize my search window and laugh nervously. ”Right, I'm sorry. I'm so distracted with all of my college application essays.”
I have no idea where I pulled that from, but she hums with a mournful look, like she knows just what I mean.
”You know, I'm sure Adam could help you with that. Of course, you were in that study group of Daniel Tanner's, so-”
”I'm sorry, what?”
It's rude to interrupt. I know that. But I also know my pulse just jumped to warp speed.
”The study group,” she repeats, looking a little put off. ”You were in that group, weren't you?”
”Yes. I'm sorry, I just didn't realize Mr. Tanner was behind it.”
”Oh, yes. He was the major corporate sponsor. From what he tells me, things will be expanding next year. They may even need use of our facilities here.”
She's practically beaming, and I'm about to throw up all over her Mac. This can't be happening. It just can't. Because this means the phone call was real. My breath seems to freeze into something solid in my lungs.
I stand up abruptly, feeling like I don't have an ounce of blood left in my face. ”I'm so sorry, Mrs. Nesbit. I completely forgot I'm meeting my mother today.”
”Oh, well. You know I still have that book on reserve for you,” she says with a frown. ”Fundamentals of Hypnosis. You're actually a week or two past our standard hold time, Ms. Spinnaker.”
”I'll have to come back for it. My mom's probably in a dead panic.”
I eye the door hungrily, but follow her to the circulation desk, where I hand over my library card and wait what feels like three hours for her to check out the book.
Finally, I stumble toward the door, feeling shaky as a leaf. Hypnosis? I mean...
Chapter Sixteen.
I stumble into the library parking lot, skidding to a cartoonlike halt when a familiar Mustang pulls in. Deja vu washes over me as I watch the car track through the parking lot, headed straight for me.
Just like it did that first night at the school. The night I woke up.
I blink as he parks the car, my feet turning to lead weights at the ends of my legs. How? How did he know I was here? Because it has to be me. No way did Blake just happen to decide to visit the library for the first time in years today.
I think of the text on his phone, the books in my room, and most of all, the way he looked at me at Trixie's Diner. None of that would mean much of anything if his dad didn't have his hands in all of this. The engine turns off, and I feel adrenaline pumping through me as the truth hits with bone-rattling force. Blake is following me.
The car door opens, and I clench my hands into tight fists. I can't run. If I run, he'll know I figured him out. And I don't want him to know that yet.
Blake is just stepping out when another car pulls into the parking lot. It's a really old black Camaro, engine grumbling in a menacing way. The paint is beyond dull, almost gray instead of black, and that almost makes it more intimidating.
It grinds to a halt in the spot next to the Mustang. I see Blake's face turn dark just seconds before Adam opens the door.
Oh my G.o.d, they both knew. They both somehow knew I'd be here, and they're here and I'm trapped.
Adam pulls a book bag and a stack of library books out of the pa.s.senger seat, and I manage a breath. Okay. Okay, stop being paranoid. Adam happens to be at the library. And Blake- Yeah, no, Blake is stalking me.
My thoughts cut off into nothingness as Adam looks up, meeting my eyes with surprise and then noticing Blake moving toward me. I try to convey how uncomfortable-screw uncomfortable, how terrified-I am with my eyes.
And I watch, holding my breath as Adam shoulders his pack...and heads right past me.
”Chloe, we should talk,” Blake says, sparing a final glance at Adam's form.