Promise You Won't Tell? (5 page)

Riley says, “What happens now?”

“I need to have a chat with Rick Hooper.”

“Oh, God,” she says.

“What?”

“It’s starting, isn’t it?”

“It is. Where can I find him after school tomorrow?”

“You mean, where can you talk to him privately?” She thinks a minute, then says, “He works at a movie theater, part-time.”

“Perfect.”

Tuesday.
It’s a tricky business, interrogating a minor.

Rick Hooper’s the afternoon manager at Skyline Theater, Chesterfield Mall. It’s not much of a job. Not at three-thirty on a Wednesday afternoon, at least.

I wait till the third and final customer gets his popcorn and soft drink, then motion from across the lobby for Rick to join me.

This is the point where I need to explain that I’m good-looking, and hope I can do it in a way that doesn’t sound offensive. By way of example, in the past two months I’ve placed top ten among the world’s most beautiful women in two national magazines. And although it’s a tragic symptom of the type of media we have in this country, there’s a reason the entire nation was fixated on my kidnapping nine years ago, and on my sudden re-appearance earlier this year.

Young women disappear every day, right?

But they only make a fuss over the ones the media considers pretty.

It’s not right, but it’s true. You know it and I know it. And I’m ashamed that my abduction was front-page news, and received daily TV coverage, when so many other girls might have been saved had the media simply shown their pictures and told their stories one flipping time.

But they didn’t.

I don’t take any credit for my looks, just as you wouldn’t take credit for having wonderful parents, or being born brilliant. These are lucky accidents of nature.

I’ll understand if you think I’m conceited. But if I’m allowed to say this without sounding cocky, there aren’t many seventeen-year-old boys who wouldn’t cross the floor of a movie lobby to talk to me when I motion to them to come over.

And Rick Hooper is no exception.

“Can I help you?” he says.

“Are you Rick Hooper?”

“Yes.”

“We need to talk.”

“About what?”

His eyes suddenly grow big. “Omigod! You’re Dani Ripper!”

See what I mean? I’m not saying everyone recognizes me, but I’m reasonably well-known.

“Please, keep your voice down, Rick. I’m here for a reason. A serious one.”

He goes from excited to nervous. His brow furrows.

“What’s wrong?”

“The bad news is you may be involved in a serious crime.”

“
What
?
Me
?”

“The good news is I’m in a position to help you.”

He looks around. “Is this a joke? Am I being filmed?”

“It’s no joke. And you’re not being filmed. But you
are
being recorded.”

I show him my cell phone.

“You’re a private investigator.”

“Yes.”

“I don’t know anything about a crime.”

“This tape and my testimony will be proof that you’re cooperating. For what it’s worth, I believe you had nothing to do with it.”

“With what?”

“Riley Freeman.”

The look on his face tells me I caught him completely off-guard. His brain’s going a thousand miles an hour trying to comprehend where I’m going with this. Finally he says, “What about her?”

“Are you and Riley close friends?”

“No. I barely know her. I mean, everyone knows Riley. She’s popular. But...”

“But
you’re
not?”

He laughs. “Do I look like one of the cool kids to you?”

“Yesterday at school you called her a name.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You called her Strawberry.”

The color drains from his face. “No I didn’t!”

“Lying could get you a felony charge. You called her Strawberry,” I repeat.

He looks at my phone, then into my eyes. His expression tells me it’s true.

“Who told you?”

“Riley Freeman.”

“Look, I’m not sure what she thinks she heard, but I never said that.”

“You did, Rick. And I need to know why.”

His lip quivers. He tries to speak, but his voice breaks. He clears his throat. Then says, “I’m not saying anything without an attorney.”

I click my phone to stop the recording.

“You don’t need an attorney, Rick. Not yet, anyway. But you will if this case goes to the police.”

“I haven’t done anything wrong!” he says.

“If the police get involved they may accuse you of obstructing justice.”

“Why?”

“Because on Sunday or Monday, someone told you what happened to Riley Freeman at Kelli Underhill’s slumber party.”

“Not true.”

“The police will expect an honest answer.”

“If the police ask me about it, I’ll demand an attorney.”

“I can save you the time, trouble, and expense, and make sure the police know you cooperated from the start.”

“No way. I’m not saying anything.”

“Look, Rick. I know you had nothing to do with it. You weren’t even there. But you know something.”

“It’s not that big a deal.”

“You’re wrong. It’s huge. A serious crime has taken place. Think about it from Riley’s perspective.”

I pause a moment, hoping he will. Then I say, “You remember when you were a kid in school, and the teachers said if you did something wrong it would go on your permanent record, and follow you the rest of your life?”

“They still say that.”

“Seriously? At your age? Well, I can promise you, it’s bullshit.”

“I’m not sure I understand your point.”

“Police reports are different. They’re the ultimate permanent record. What do you think the detectives will put in the police report when they investigate Riley’s case? They’re going to say the investigation was launched because of a comment made by Rick Hooper.”

His face goes from pale to paste.

“I-I can’t talk about this,” he says.

I touch his arm, look into his eyes. “Rick, you’re a good guy. I’m almost certain you are. And maybe you think Riley’s a stuck-up bitch, and maybe there’s a part of you that’s happy this happened to her, because maybe it’s nice to see a popular girl getting knocked off her pedestal for once. Or maybe you want to protect the person or people who told you what happened Saturday night, because they’re the cool kids, and you were impressed they confided in you.”

“No one confided in me. They don’t give a shit about me.”

“You overheard it?”

He looks around.

I don’t know if he’s making sure no one’s listening, or hoping someone in the lobby might require his attention. In any event, the lobby’s dead, and no one’s going to rescue him.

He says, “I might have heard someone talking about it on a cell phone. But that’s all I’m going to say.”

I frown. “That’s not enough, Rick. I need to know what was said.”

“I’m sorry, but it’s not my job to tell you. I’m not
like
you, Ms. Ripper. I’m an outcast. A social misfit. I just want to get from one day to the next. You caught me by surprise a minute ago, but you can’t prove I know anything. If the police ask me, I’ll tell them I never called her Strawberry, and never overheard anything. It’ll be your word against mine, and I’ll have an attorney with me. No one can prove I overheard him talking about Riley Freeman. No one!”

“Him?”

His face flushes. “I’m not saying anything else.”

He turns to leave.

“Rick?”

“What?”

“I know you wish you hadn’t spoken to Riley yesterday, but you did. And you can’t take it back.”

“You can’t prove I called her Strawberry, and she can’t prove it either.”

“You already admitted it to me.”

He smiles. “Not on tape.”

I reach into my jeans pocket and remove my other cell phone, touch a couple of buttons, and play back what he just said.

His face flushes. Now I can’t nickname him Casper.

I put the phone back in my pocket and say, “It’s just a matter of time, Rick. The fact you overheard something proves it’s being talked about. When this blows up it’s going to be huge. It’ll be on the evening news and the front page of the paper.”

“So?”

“Right now, guess how many names Riley can give the police? One. Yours. Do you really want the police to have
your
name, instead of the guys who actually
did
something? Do you want them to start this investigation by coming to
your
house, talking to
your
parents?”

His lips twitch again. In a very small voice, he says, “Can you keep my name out of it?”

“Probably not. But I
can
make sure the police know you cooperated fully. And I can guarantee you won’t get in trouble over it.”

“This totally blows,” he says, practically in tears. “If only I’d kept my mouth shut.”

“You couldn’t. You wanted Riley to think you knew her secret. It gave you power over her.”

“You make me sound pathetic.”

“I was in high school once upon a time.”

He frowns. “Don’t even try to tell me you weren’t the most popular girl in school. Head cheerleader, homecoming queen, the girl every guy dreamed of having.”

“I might’ve been all those things,” I say. “Except that a rapist named Colin Tyler Hicks kidnapped me, beat the shit out of me, stole my innocence, locked me in his fucking basement, and—”

“I’m sorry,” he says. “Please don’t cry.”

What?

Am I crying?

Shit
.

He gives me a hug.

I cry some more.

“I’m sorry,” I say.

“It’s all right. It’s my fault.”

I pull away and say, “I feel like an idiot.”

He smiles. Then says, “Welcome to my world. To tell you the truth, I’m surprised Riley even knows my name.”

“Go figure,” I say.

“What did she say about me?”

“Honestly?”

He nods.

“She called you a nerd.”

He laughs.

I laugh.

“Please, Rick. I know she might not be the most thoughtful person in the world, and maybe she’s had it a bit too easy in life, and maybe she’s treated you badly in the past. But she’s a human being. And only seventeen. And the victim of a crime. Peer pressure got to her. She screwed up and drank too much. But what happened to her isn’t right. It’s not fair. And it’s not her fault.”

He sighs.

“Give me a name,” I say.

He sighs again, looks around, then whispers, “Ethan Clark.”

“Close your eyes, Rick.”

“Why?”

“Just do it.”

He does.

I give him a quick kiss and say, “You’re one of the good ones. I’ll make sure Riley knows you came through for her.”

He opens his eyes. “You think there’s any chance in the world that…”

“What?”

“You think I’d ever have a chance with Riley?”

I shrug. “Who knows, right? Stranger things have happened.”

“What’s your honest opinion?”

“Not in a million years.”

We laugh.

“Story of my life,” he says. Then adds, “Why is that, do you suppose?”

“Are you asking why girls like Riley aren’t interested in guys like you?”

“Yeah.”

“What’s your favorite food?”

“Cheeseburgers.”

“Riley likes broccoli.”

“Ugh.”

“There you go.”

I start to leave, then turn and say, “One last thing.”

He rolls his eyes. “What now?”

“Did Ethan have personal knowledge of what happened, or was he repeating the story?”

Rick closes his eyes, shakes his head as if he can’t believe this is happening. “I’d rather not say.”

“Then don’t. Just nod if he had personal knowledge of what happened to Riley Saturday night.”

I wait.

He nods.

“Thanks, Rick.”

“Please. Keep me out of it.”

“I’ll do my best. Will you tell me what you overheard?”

“No.”

I give him my card and say, “We’re friends now. If you change your mind, call me, okay?”

He nods.

As I walk away he says, “Thanks.”

I turn. “For what?”

He shows me a sheepish grin. “That was my first kiss.”

Could that be true? I study him a moment.

It can.

“I’m honored,” I say.