Six Months Later Part 18

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.

I shake my head, swallowing hard. "I don't want to talk."

I can still see Adam making his way toward the door. He's just going to leave me here when it's clear as day I'm a damsel in some pretty freaking serious distress! Unbelievable.

"I could drive you home," Blake says, voice sweet but eyes hard. "Just give me ten minutes."

"I really don't want to talk," I say, voice cracking. "I told you I need some time."

Adam's almost at the door. Maybe he's moving slower or maybe I'm just wishing for that. But if he doesn't stop moving altogether, I'm going to be alone out here in about two seconds.

"Be reasonable, Chloe. It's not safe to walk all the way home," Blake says, and he's closing the distance between us.

"It's Ridgeview, not Harlem," I say breezily. Inside, I'm screaming. I know why cornered dogs bite now. I'd be snapping like a maniac if I had sharp teeth.

"Chloe," Blake says, and it almost sounds condescending. Then he touches my arm, curling fingers over my sleeve. I yank myself free.

I can't help it any more than I can explain it. It's like recoiling at a roach or maggots. I don't know why, but I know I need him away from me.

"How about I call you?" he asks.

"She said she needs time, man."

Adam.

I feel my whole body relax. I don't know when he turned around or why I didn't hear him walking back, but he's right here now, book bag still slung over one shoulder and eyes narrowed to dangerous slits.

Blake sneers at him. "How about you mind your own business?"

"No, he's right," I interject. "I do want some time, Blake."

"And I'm happy to give it. This isn't some effort to win you back," he says, as if the idea is completely ridiculous. "I'm just concerned. As your friend. Skipping cla.s.ses and leaving school early. I'm worried you're jeopardizing your future."

He doesn't look concerned. If I didn't know better, I'd say he looks determined. He's wearing a face that reminds me a whole lot of my mother's my-way-or-the-highway stance.

Blake takes another step toward me, and I flinch just before Adam slides in between us, facing Blake.

"Let it rest."

"She could need help," Blake grits out.

"She said she's fine."

"This isn't your gig, Reed."

"Not yours either anymore," Adam says, bringing me back to the present.

This doesn't feel like it's about me. I mean, I hear the words, but there's something way bigger than jealousy in their eyes. Maybe this whole situation just gave them a reason and any second now someone's going to throw a punch.

Blake juts toward him, but then catches my eye over Adam's shoulder. His face molds into something that feels plastic. Counterfeit.

He seems to shut out Adam then, speaking only to me. "I'm sorry if this came off wrong. I just wanted you to know I'm here if you need me."

I manage a nod, and he smiles in a way that doesn't reach his eyes. I watch him turn to head for his car. The Mustang purrs to life, and I command my heart to stop running a hundred miles an hour.

Adam doesn't even look at me. He just walks back to the library as if nothing happened at all.

"Is he following me?" I shout after him, the adrenaline still coursing hard enough to make my hands shake and my teeth chatter.

"Sorry?" Adam asks, looking for all the world like a guy who wasn't about to throw down in the library parking lot twenty seconds ago.

"How did he know I was here, Adam?"

He looks away from me, his jaw a hard, beautiful line above his collar. And what did I expect? Why would he know? Still, despite the books and the backpack, something tells me Adam followed Blake to the library.

Maybe he's studying now, but somehow, I'm sure he came for Blake. Or maybe even for me.

"You should get out of here," he finally says. "You'll be safer at home."

Home my a.s.s. I'm staying in this parking lot until he comes out and explains what the heck is going on. Which sounds a lot more committed than it really is since the library closes at four o'clock on Fridays.

Still. It's cold, and there's a distinct look of rain in the clouds gathering overhead. Rain in November in northern Ohio is every bit as unpleasant as it sounds.

The library lights go dim, and a few moments after, Adam emerges. He's got a couple of books under one arm and his jacket slung over a shoulder with his backpack. As if he's impervious to the cold that has me shivering to my bones beside his car.

He wrangles his keys free of his pocket, and I clear my throat.

His eyes go wide as he takes me in. "Are you serious with this?"

"As a freaking heart attack," I say, lifting my chin.

"I don't know why Blake knew you were here. Maybe he followed you."

"Maybe you followed him."

He waggles the books at me. "No, I come here to study. Why the h.e.l.l would I follow Blake?"

"You tell me."

I step back from his door, which I probably shouldn't. But I'm not going to physically force him to stay here. He wrenches his car door open and throws his books inside. I half expect him to just get in and drive away, but then he slams it again and glares at me.

"What is this even about? Now you're p.i.s.sed that I interrupted you with Blake?"

I roll my eyes. "Yes, that's exactly it, Adam. I was obviously chomping at the bit for some alone time there."