Helpless (26 page)

“I don’t get it. Why would Kip Lange want to make it look like you’re sleeping with Lindsey?”

“I don’t know,” Tom admitted. “I thought maybe Lange was going to blackmail me, but that didn’t happen.”

“Because maybe it’s true.”

“It’s not.”

Jill kept her interlocked hands between her knees and held her father’s gaze. “This is a lot for me to process,” she said.

“Now you know why I kept this a secret from you.”

“I think I do,” Jill said.

“Jill, I’m so very sorry,” Tom said.

“For what?”

“Because now it’s your secret to keep, too.”

Chapter 39

S
hilo High School’s 250-seat auditorium was almost filled to capacity. Rainy peered out at the settling crowd through a part in the heavy auditorium stage curtain. The sound of students’ voices was overpowering in the high-ceilinged room. Rainy wondered how the outnumbered teachers would ever quiet these kids down. Waiting with her backstage were the other speakers for the mandatory student assembly: Shilo High School principal Lester Osborne and police sergeant Brendan Murphy. Murphy apparently had learned his lesson and kept his hands appropriately to himself. Angie Didomenico, who had put this assembly in motion, had a schedule conflict and had sent regrets.

Rainy checked her watch. In five minutes, Lester Osborne would step onto the stage to make his introductory remarks. Shortly after, he’d bring out Sergeant Murphy to say a few words before commencing with the afternoon’s main event—a cyber safety seminar presented by FBI special agent Loraine Miles.

Earlier in the day from his office in Boston, Walt Tomlinson had sent Rainy an email commending her initiative and praising her willingness to sacrifice a much-needed off day. This sort of community outreach, she knew, improved public perception of the FBI, and the positive public relations helped bolster Tomlinson’s budgeting requests
.
In that same email he also issued a terse reminder about her role in the Hawkins investigation, which was none.

Tomlinson had begrudgingly allowed her to use Carter’s time and expertise in assisting the Shilo PD with its investigation, but her request to take over the Hawkins case or, at the minimum, establish a federal nexus to it was denied. With the FBI, it was always a matter of resource allocation, and Tomlinson guarded his resources like precious gems.

The State of New Hampshire was going to prosecute Tom Hawkins, and that was that. It was a politically motivated move, something Rainy knew even before she’d been told. Such occurrences happened occasionally with high-profile cases. By controlling the pretrial press and media coverage, the New Hampshire D.A. could demonstrate to the voters his tough stance on sex crimes between teachers and students. It would go a long way to help with the D.A.’s reelection efforts.

The FBI preferred to not behave like bullies by taking over cases that the states wanted to prosecute themselves, and did so only when such action was legally necessary or beneficial to the FBI. Rainy didn’t let go of the Hawkins case easily. During a closed door meeting in Tomlinson’s office, she tried again to change his mind.

“The line connecting the state’s case against Hawkins to my case against Mann is becoming increasingly clear,” she had said to Tomlinson.

“By clear, you mean ... ?”

“Tom Hawkins is the one who supplied Mann with the text images of Shilo girls and others.”

“Did you check with the deputy U.S. attorney prosecuting Mann?”

“I did.”

“And?”

“And she agrees with you. The state can prosecute Hawkins without impacting her case against James Mann. We’ve already given her most of what she’ll need for trial.”

“So why do you want to take on the Hawkins case as well?”

“Because I’m worried that a lack of continuity between the state and Feds could damage both investigations,” Rainy said.

Tomlinson flipped through the Hawkins case report Rainy had provided. “Can you prove the interstate nexus in the Hawkins case?”

“Not with that Leterg program masking the IP addresses, we can’t. We have no idea where those images were sent, no. But we’ve got enough circumstantial evidence to prove that he was Mann’s supplier. He had the exact same images that Mann had. And we know that Mann was a receiver, not a distributor.”

“I appreciate all you’re doing, Agent Miles. I really do. But trust me on this one. The state will do a fine job, and he’ll spend just as much time in state prison as he would in a federal,” Tomlinson had said. “This is a big deal case for New Hampshire, and the D.A. wants to prosecute it. Unless you give me something better, I’m going to let him.”

Rainy knew when to walk away from a battle she couldn’t win. She still had one task to complete before her work on the Mann investigation could conclude. She needed to make an official ID of as many of the forty girls in the Text Image Collection as possible.

Rainy hoped her seminar would impart more than just wisdom to these developing minds. She wanted to inspire some of the girls photographed in the Text Image Collection to come to her without her having to go find them. There’d be fewer questions asked that way. The added discretion might help address Didomenico’s concerns that a highly visible FBI investigation in a small town would stir up unwanted media attention.

Rainy also wondered if Lindsey Wells might change her mind and come clean with her. It was obvious the girl had lied about her images—of course she’d sent them to somebody. Maybe this seminar would convince Lindsey to stop protecting whoever had betrayed her. And she believed the betrayer to be either Tom Hawkins or a boy Hawkins had recruited to help him build up his merchandise inventory.

Principal Osborne kicked off the assembly, and he sounded sincere and concerned. Murphy, who spoke next, came across in a predictably intimidating way. Murphy remained less touchy with her while they waited backstage, which was good, but he was still a wild card that Rainy wanted to hold on to. She was glad he made it unnecessary to come down on him.

It was Rainy’s turn to speak. Applause following her introduction was polite, but tepid. Rainy had given this talk dozens of times to dozens of different fresh-faced high school kids. She could recite most of what she’d say from memory. And while she’d be addressing everybody in attendance, Rainy would secretly direct her message to Lindsey Wells.

“Melanie Smyth texted naked pictures of herself to her boyfriend. He posted them on Facebook,” Rainy began. “A few days later, she killed herself. Melanie was only fifteen years old.” A picture of Melanie’s bright, youthful face, projected from Rainy’s PowerPoint slide deck, filled the screen behind her. Murmurs followed. Rainy’s shocking opener achieved its objective. She had everyone’s full attention.

Rainy made brief eye contact with Lindsey, who sat ten rows from the front. “Melanie killed herself because naked pictures of her were circulating around school.” Rainy paused. She especially wanted to give Lindsey time to let those words sink in.

Rainy went on to explain her role with the FBI’s cyber crime squad and, more specifically, the Innocent Images National Initiative. She pointed out the dangers of trusting people teens might meet in chat rooms. She told the story of the fifteen-year-old girl whose supposed sixteen-year-old soul mate turned out to be her fifty-five-year-old neighbor. Police recovered the girl’s body two weeks after she went missing. The statistics Rainy shared were sobering and were meant to intimidate.

“Did you know that one in four teenage girls reported having met in person strangers they met online?” Rainy asked the group. Rainy got back only blank stares from the rows of students listening, but she knew that her words had sunk in and were taking some sort of meaningful shape in their minds. “One out of five teens has been solicited sexually online, and only three percent told an adult about the encounter.”

When Rainy touched upon sexting, she could almost feel the teens’ ears perk up. Their attentiveness did not surprise her. Statistically, nearly 40 percent of her audience had sent nude pictures of themselves via their cell phones.

“Did you know sexting a picture of yourself is considered child pornography?” No heads nodded. Not a hand rose. The students sat still, quiet, and Rainy could tell most were riveted to their seats. “You could go to prison for sending a naked picture of yourself or receiving a picture of your boyfriend or your girlfriend. I, for one, hope those laws will change. Your state legislators are becoming more savvy about the emotional scars public humiliation can cause. Scars that might lead to suicide.”

Again, Melanie’s beaming face filled the screen behind Rainy. From somewhere in the back, Rainy heard soft snickering, followed by a burst of laughter. Her fierce eyes locked on a pack of boys who’d begun fidgeting in their seats. One boy punched another in the arm. A teacher descended on the rowdy crew and ushered the two most obvious offenders out of the auditorium.

“This is nothing to laugh at,” Rainy scolded the crowd. That comment only inspired more spurts of laughter from the increasingly fidgety teens. “Maybe you think it doesn’t apply to you, or you’re uncomfortable talking about it. But I assure you, this isn’t a joke. Sexting might just be the stupidest thing you can do with a cell phone. Maybe you think it’s funny to virtually flash your friends, but I assure you it’s not seen that way by the law. You can end up on a sex offender watch list. That means you couldn’t go to school here anymore, because you wouldn’t be permitted near minors. You wouldn’t be allowed inside a library. Your driver’s license would carry a sex offender label on it. Go try to build a life from there. Try to get a job and overcome that stigma. You can’t.”

Rainy paused. This time, nobody laughed.

“These images don’t just stay between you and your boyfriend or girlfriend. Trust me when I tell you that. In a second they can be distributed to hundreds, even thousands, of strangers. What you do online has no shelf life. Your behavior doesn’t come with an expiration date.”

Rainy flashed on her memories of James Mann’s grieving family. She could pinpoint where on the lawn they stood when the SUV with Mann inside drove away.

“So what can you do if you’ve already sent sexually explicit images to somebody you trust?” Rainy asked.

Not a single hand went up. Expected.

“First, you could ask the person who received your picture to delete it. It’s in your best interest to make certain your image wasn’t posted to any Web sites or forwarded to somebody else. Ask to see their phone. If you trust them and they trust you, that shouldn’t be a problem. I have some other suggestions, which I’ve included in your handouts. But I’m out of time, so I can’t go through all of them here. I hope you found this seminar informative. Before I go, are there any questions?” No hands went up.

Rainy continued. “Mr. Osborne has graciously made his office available for me to use for an hour following this assembly. I’d be happy to answer any questions you’d feel more comfortable asking in private. Thank you again for your time.”

Some kids applauded. Some just bolted out of their seats. The overpowering din of student chatter revved up in an instant. Rainy made her way to Lester Osborne’s office with a quick and cordial good-bye to Sergeant Murphy.

Rainy watched Lindsey Wells walk away.

It’s the state’s case now, Miles,
she said to herself.
Go ID the other girls and get the hell out of Shilo.

But something told Rainy she was going to be hanging around this sleepy New England town for many more days to come.

Chapter 40

L
indsey Wells followed closely behind Jill Hawkins as the students left the auditorium. Jill, who hadn’t returned a single text from the more than forty that Lindsey had sent, appeared committed to ending their friendship.

Empty.

Lindsey had never felt more empty and alone in all her life. She missed Jill’s friendship each and every day. She missed it so much that it physically hurt. But thanks to Fidelius Charm, everyone at school now believed that it was Lindsey who wrote the blog posts detailing an affair with Jill’s father. Some people even believed Jill was the mysterious Fidelius Charm, ratting out her dad by breaking the scandalous news. Rumors about Lindsey spread around Shilo as fast as it took someone to type The secret is out. Coach Hawkins is sleeping with Lindsey Wells, and hit SEND.

School had once been Lindsey’s oasis, and soccer her favorite escape. But school no longer felt safe to her, either.

No place did.

Jill disappeared around a corner, and Lindsey followed close behind. But the next moment Lindsey saw Jill, her friend was no longer alone.

Three senior girls surrounded her. Gretchen Stiller, Mandy Jensen, and Clair Hubert, known to some around school as the witches, kept pace with Jill stride for stride as they walked a long corridor lined on both sides with metal lockers.

The witches were considered the popular girls. They intimidated others. They seemed more worldly than most (not everybody went to Europe for the summer). They weren’t athletes. Too messy. Nor were they honor students. Too hard. The witches were nothing more than rich girls with the right bodies to attract the boys and the right attitudes to act above it all. They went to college parties. They could make you feel inches tall with just a glance. One did coke. None of them were virgins.

Jill was trying to walk faster than the witches. But the three girls, dressed in their skinny jeans and empire-waist shirts, weren’t making it easy for her to get away.

“Hey, Jilly. How’s your daddy doing?” Lindsey overheard Gretchen say.

“Did Lindsey sleep over last night?” Mandy asked. “Does she stay in your room or your dad’s?”

“No, she sleeps in Jill’s room but then sneaks out to sleep with her dad,” Clair said.

“Oh, that’s so cute,” Mandy said. “Is Lindsey going to be your new mom?”

Lindsey’s heart sank. How could they be so cruel?

Jill glanced over her shoulder and saw that Lindsey was coming to intervene. Jill made a subtle shake of her head. “Shut up,” Jill said softly, but loud enough for Lindsey to still hear. Jill started walking again.