Chapters (95)
- Front Cover
- Title Page
- Copyright
- Contents
- Video #1
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Twelve
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Twenty
- Twenty-One
- Twenty-Two
- Twenty-Three
- Twenty-Four
- Twenty-Five
- Twenty-Six
- Video #2
- Twenty-Seven
- Twenty-Eight
- Twenty-Nine
- Thirty
- Thirty-One
- Thirty-Two
- Thirty-Three
- Thirty-Four
- Thirty-Five
- Thirty-Six
- Thirty-Seven
- Thirty-Eight
- Thirty-Nine
- Forty
- Forty-One
- Forty-Two
- Forty-Three
- Forty-Four
- Forty-Five
- Forty-Six
- Forty-Seven
- Forty-Eight
- Forty-Nine
- Fifty
- Fifty-One
- Fifty-Two
- Fifty-Three
- Fifty-Four
- Fifty-Five
- Fifty-Six
- Fifty-Seven
- Fifty-Eight
- Fifty-Nine
- Sixty
- Sixty-One
- Sixty-Two
- Sixty-Three
- Sixty-Four
- Sixty-Five
- Video #3
- Sixty-Six
- Sixty-Seven
- Sixty-Eight
- Sixty-Nine
- Seventy
- Seventy-One
- Seventy-Two
- Seventy-Three
- Seventy-Four
- Seventy-Five
- Seventy-Six
- Seventy-Seven
- Seventy-Eight
- Seventy-Nine
- Eighty
- Eighty-One
- Eighty-Two
- Eighty-Three
- The Final Video
- Acknowledgments
- About the Author
- Back Cover
“I’ve got to go somewhere. And Olivia wants a ride to Gabby’s. Can you take her? I’m in a hurry.”
He steeples his fingers against his lips, nodding his head.
Olivia comes rushing down the steps and stands in the doorway. Watching.
“What are you in such a hurry to do?” Dad asks.
“I have to talk to someone. About one of those contradictions.”
“Why don’t I go with you? Or why don’t you call Detective Haley? I’m worried that there’s someone out there—”
“Thanks, but no.”
“Hunter, this is dangerous.”
“I’ve got this, Dad. I’m not doing anything dangerous.”
“Okay,” he says, clearly not satisfied. “Is there anything I can do to help? Besides driving your sister to Gabriela’s house?”
“I don’t know,” I say. “Do you have any advice?”
“What’s going on, Hunter?” Olivia asks. “Will someone tell me what’s going on?”
But I ignore her. And so does Dad.
Dad’s brow furrows. His lips purse. This is what he looks like when one of his students asks him a particularly vexing question during office hours. Finally, he says, “Be careful. And don’t take any shit.”
Seventy-Eight
Once again, the Bashers’ house is lit up like a light bulb factory.
Little tremors of anxiety flood through my body.
The chime of the doorbell echoes inside the house, followed by the high-pitched barking of a small dog. I hope Basher answers, but luck isn’t with me tonight.
Basher’s dad looks at me through the sidelight. He yanks open the door and steps outside. He’s a shorter, squattier version of his son, but there’s a resemblance in the heavy brow, the broad nose.
“What the fuck are you doing here? Are you looking for another ass beating? I promise this time no one’s going to pull him off you.”
One step back. And one only. I refuse to yield too much ground, even though it’s his porch.
“I just want to talk to Mike. I want to ask him a question.”
“Well, you can’t. Now get out of here before I call the police.”
“Can you just—”
And then Basher is there, appearing behind his dad and placing one hand on his shoulder. “Dad? Dad?”
Mr. Basher spins around like he’s about to be jumped, but when he sees Mike’s face, his posture relaxes. “What?”
“I want to talk to him, Dad,” Mike says. “Just go back inside. Mom’s starting that movie she wants you to watch with her.”
“You come with me,” Mr. Basher says. “There’s only trouble out here. This loser couldn’t even keep that perverted teacher away from his girl.”
“Dad. Go in. I’ve got this.”