Leslie's Journal - Allan Stratton [56]
I call the first Bentham and put on the speaker phone so Katie won’t bug me about what’s going on. A boy answers. There’s the sound of a TV in the background. “Yeah?”
He sounds little, but just in case, I put on my polite voice. “Hello, this is Leslie Phillips. Could I please speak to Amber?”
The boy yells, “It’s for you,” and I hear this voice yell back, “I’ll take it in my room.” I’ve hit the jackpot, first try. The boy doesn’t say anything else, but I can still hear the TV. Finally the other voice comes on the line.
“Hello?”
So this is Amber Bentham, the girl in 9C. She must be in grade ten now. My grade. To think I know her phone number, where she lives, goes to school—what she looks like naked—and she doesn’t even know I exist.
“Hello,” I reply. It’s all I get out.
“You can hang up,” Amber says into the phone to her brother. Pause. I can still hear the TV. “I said, you can hang up now, Jeffrey!” Click. “So, hi. Who is it?”
“Leslie Phillips. You don’t know me, but I know you, sort of. At least, I know Jason McCready.”
Her voice gets small. “Who did you say you were?”
“Leslie Phillips. I’m nobody. Just this girl. I went out with him.”
I thought being humble, a kindred spirit or something, would make her friendly. Instead, she acts like me on a bad day. “Well, maybe you went out with him, but I didn’t, and if you’re the one who ratted my name to the cops, I don’t know how you know who I am, but they were just here, and you got me in trouble with my parents, so thank you very much, and don’t ever call me again.” She hangs up.
“Katie,” I say, “is it a sin to do something bad for a good cause?”
“I think so.”
“Then say a prayer for me.” I phone back. Amber answers. Before she can hang up again, I say, “Amber, I have the sex pix. If you don’t talk to me I’m going to e-mail them to your dad and the town newspaper.”
“Oh god.”
She’s so scared, I’m ashamed of myself. “What happened to you also happened to me,” I say. “I want to charge him, but officially he’s a first-time offender. If you charge him too, maybe we can put him away longer.”
There’s a pause. “Has anyone else seen the pictures?”
“No. They’re on a memory card. Nowhere else.”
“Thank you. Thank you.” She’s practically kissing my feet over the phone line. “Promise me you’ll destroy the card.”
“Not till you agree to help me.”
“I can’t!”
“Yes, you can,” I say firmly.
“It’s different for you.” Her voice cracks. “He doesn’t live here anymore. I’m finally getting some sleep.”
“No, you’re not. He’s in your head. He keeps waking you up.”
“How do you know?”
“I just do.” I hear her sob. I wish I could hug her.
“When that detective showed up at the door, I didn’t know what it was all about.” She blows her nose. “She got me alone in the living room and asked me all these questions: if I knew Jason, if he’d hurt me, if he’d raped me. I felt like a criminal. She said if I ever remembered anything to give her a call. After, she told my folks I hadn’t done anything wrong, but they acted like they didn’t believe her. Mom kept saying, ‘We’ve never had trouble with the police.’” Amber whispers: “Look, it was the end of last year. I remember him taking the photos, but not much else. I’d never had more than a glass of wine at Christmas dinner before that. I thought I was going to bleed to death. I tried to break up with him, but he wouldn’t go away. Finally he went on a date with Jenny Maraida to make me jealous.”
I get chills. “Who’s Jenny Maraida?”
“You don’t know? Her dad caught them drunk and naked in the family garage. He called the principal at the academy and Jason got booted out for what they called ‘drunkenness and other grave misdemeanors.’ If it was anybody but Dr. Maraida reporting him, nothing would have happened. I mean, the guys at the academy are rich kids in jackets and ties. They walk through town like they own the place.”
“Back to Jason.”
“No.” Amber stops me cold. “I haven’t seen him since. I never want to again. There must be somebody else who can help you.”