The Last Good Girl (15 page)

It would also get his lawyers riled up. Once he was named as a suspect, the best legal team money could buy would try to block the investigation in any way they could. It would also affect his father's political career. Could the lieutenant governor ever be elected to state office again, if his son were a suspect in a kidnapping case?

And yet, he was.

“Yes, sir,” Anna said. “Mr. Highsmith is a suspect.”

The judge looked sternly over his reading glasses. “Mr. Frink, you've moved to quash the government's subpoenas. What is your basis for this?”

Frink stood and straightened his tie. “Your Honor, these are confidential documents. Per university policy and under the Family Educational Rights and Privacy Act—”

The judge waved his hand. “Of course. But all kinds of confidential documents may be subpoenaed. Your confidentiality doesn't trump a grand jury subpoena.”

“Well, Your Honor, we wanted to be sure we were crossing all our
t
's and dotting our
i
's before we just willy-nilly turned over such sensitive documents. As you know, we agreed to this expedited hearing—”

“You agreed to cover yourself.” The judge pulled off his glasses and waved them at the GC. “And you know it. I have to tell you, Mr. Frink, I'm extremely disappointed at the university's handling of this case so far. My God, there's a missing girl! You're lucky that the prosecutors didn't ask me to hold you in contempt. In the future, I expect you to be fully cooperative with the government's investigation. If this matter comes before me again, I warn you, I will not be as lenient as I am today.”

Anna kept her face neutral, although inside she sent up a cheer.

“Yes, sir,” Frink said.

The judge said, “I'm ordering Tower University to turn over all the documents listed in the subpoena.”

“It might take us some time to collect all the documents and make sure they're properly—”

“Today,” the judge said. “Do whatever you have to do to make it happen. I'll give you three hours. If the government doesn't have its documents by eight
P.M.
, I'll start levying fines. A thousand dollars per minute. Now your rear is covered.”

Anna swallowed back a lump in her throat. So often in her job, she saw people at their worst. Hiding things. Lying. Cynically taking whatever path offered them the most advantages, then justifying that path as the right one. She'd recently had a case where the judge was not only biased but corrupt. This judge had no agenda. It made her choke up to see someone so squarely on the side of justice, just doing something for the right of it.

There was a hitch in her voice as she said, “Thank you, Your Honor.”

She couldn't wait to see what was in those papers.

J
ody carefully painted the lavender nail polish on her pinky finger. “Amazing.” She held her left hand up and studied her manicure. “It looks like a simple coat of nail polish. But it can detect date-rape drugs.”

Grady held Leigh and walked the infant around the living room. He was a natural with the baby—but Jody still wasn't sure she liked the sight of her tiny daughter in the man's tattooed arms. Just because Grady fathered the baby didn't mean he was trustworthy. She hardly knew him. But Cooper would be here too.

Jody had just fed, diapered, and burped Leigh and expected the infant would sleep for the next five or six hours. The men should be able to hold down the fort for that long. It gave her just enough time to do what she planned.

“How does the nail polish work?” Grady asked.

“No idea,” Jody answered. “But the package says it turns dark purple if you stick it in a drink that has a date-rape drug in it.”

“What if the kid doesn't talk to you?”

“Come on. Who's not gonna talk to this?” Jody twirled in a circle. Normally a ponytail kind of woman, she'd blown out her long blond hair. She'd squeezed herself triumphantly into her prebaby jeans. She wore high-heeled boots and a low-cut black shirt, which revealed the porn-star cleavage that was one of her favorite parts about breast-feeding.

“You look gorgeous. I'd rather you stay home and talk to me.” Grady walked over and kissed Jody. The baby cooed, and Jody looked down.

“She smiled!” Jody said. “That was her first smile! Did you see it?”

“It was incredible. Let's see if we can get her to do it again.” Grady kissed Jody once more, letting his lips linger this time.

Jody had to force herself to pull away. “If you don't stop, I'm not gonna get out of here.”

“How about you don't?” Grady said softly. “Stay in with me.”

“I have to do this.”

“It's dangerous. I don't like it.”

She stepped away from him. “It doesn't matter what you like. You don't get to tell me what to do. Do you want to babysit Leigh or not?”

He sighed. “Yes. I want to spend as much time with her—and you—as I can.”

She glared at him. He'd been trying to get closer to her since he found out he was the baby's father. But his paternity made her uncomfortable. As the father, he had rights. What if he tried to get custody? What if he hurt Leigh, the way Jody's father had hurt her?

Cooper walked in from the kitchen. “Go easy on the poor guy, Jody. I do believe he means well.”

“Sorry.” Jody took a deep breath. She knew she wasn't fair to Grady. But she desperately needed to protect her daughter from having the childhood she and Anna had.

Cooper handed her a granola bar and a bottle of water. “Are you sure you don't want to tell Anna what you're doing?”

“Nope. If she knows, I'd be considered a government agent. But if I go on my own, I'm just a civilian—and I can do pretty much anything. Then she can use it afterward, untainted.”

“Are you sure she
wants
you to do this?”

“I'm sure she
doesn't
. Which is exactly how it has to be.”

Jody had a deep need to help her sister. Last year, Anna had come home and saved her after Jody was charged in a homicide case. Without her, Jody might have had her baby in jail, and almost certainly would be behind bars tonight and for years to come. She'd given Anna a hard time, but Anna had stuck by her.

Jody admired what Anna was fighting for tonight. Jody herself had been sexually assaulted as a teenager—and the people in charge hadn't helped her. She believed in taking matters into her own hands when the system failed. That's what she was going to do tonight.

“At least keep your cell phone on,” Grady said, “so we can track where you are.”

“Yeah,” Cooper said. “Grady and I want a text from you every fifteen minutes. If we don't hear from you, we're coming.”

“Okay.” Jody appreciated that Cooper didn't try to stop her. “I hope Leigh behaves for you guys.”

“Oh, she's great,” Grady said. He kissed the baby's head. “Even when she's crying. She's the best.”

Jody cocked her head. “You know, you do look pretty good holding Leigh.”

Grady's smile was the biggest she'd ever seen on his face. Cooper reached over and stroked Leigh's cheek.

Jody said, “We'll have to get you one of your own, Coop.”

A shadow crossed Cooper's face before he smiled. “I'll work on that.”

Jody left knowing her daughter was in good hands.

• • •

Half an hour later, Jody parked by the Beta Psi fraternity house. The sky was dark, but the building glowed with strategically placed exterior lights. She swallowed back a wave of nervousness, walked up the steps, and knocked on the door.

A kid in a Beta Psi T-shirt opened it. “Yes?”

He looked so young to her. She was twenty-six, and he couldn't be more than eight years younger, but he seemed like a baby. Jody thought of college kids as being the same age as her. But, she realized, she'd passed them by. Seeing this baby boy made her pause, for just a moment, and think about where she'd be right now if she'd gone to college instead of straight to work on the GM assembly line. Some office job? Law school, like Anna? Would she even be in Michigan? But now wasn't the time for self-reflection. Now, she just had to hope this boy didn't think she looked as old as she felt.

“Hi,” she said, smiling and cocking her hip to the side, in a way that said the world belonged to her. “I'm here to see Peter.”

That was the thing about kids these days. They put everything up online. It was ridiculous. In less than ten minutes on a computer, Jody had discovered all she needed to know about Dylan Highsmith and his closest circle of friends. She knew Peter York was one of his best buddies. And Peter was out of town the next few days.

The boy opened the door and gestured toward the back of the house. “Check the living room.”

Jody thanked him and walked toward what she hoped was the living room. She recognized Dylan immediately. She'd gotten to know his handsome face online. He was sprawled on a couch, watching TV while scrolling through his cell phone. A bunch of boys, and a few girls, sat around him. Everyone held either a beer or a cell phone. She was kind of disappointed. She thought of college as this amazing world, a universe apart, where you went to become a better person. But this could be any living room of any autoworker in Flint, except autoworkers kept their living rooms a lot cleaner than this.

Dylan looked up from his phone and let his gaze travel up and down her body. Jody met his eyes, liking the interest she saw there. He wanted her, and she could use that.

“Help you?” Dylan straightened a fraction on the couch, the frat equivalent of standing when a woman walked in the room.

“Yeah, hi. I'm looking for Peter,” Jody said in her best helpless-little-girl voice.

“I'm sorry,” Dylan said. He actually got up from the couch, stepping over a couple guys. “He's not here tonight. He went to visit his parents in Chicago.”

“Oh no! I'm Jody. We're supposed to study together tonight. Guess he stood me up.”

“I'm sure he'll be sorry to hear that he missed you.” Dylan put an arm casually around her shoulders. “It must've slipped his mind. He had to leave town unexpectedly; his mom needed surgery. I'm sure he'd want me to offer you some hospitality. Come on over, have a seat.”

He shooed some kids to make room for Jody on the couch. She sat next to him.

“Pledge!” Dylan addressed the kid who'd let her in. “Get this lovely lady a beer.”

Jody watched the young man go to the mahogany bar in the corner. He opened a bottle of Bud Light; the top came off with a hiss. He brought the bottle to her. Since she'd seen it being opened, she wasn't worried about it being drugged. She took a sip. It tasted fine.

“So you're Peter's friend?” she asked innocently.

Dylan shifted so his thigh was brushing hers. “Guilty as charged.”

She sat watching TV with him, occasionally talking, making light jokey comments. Dylan kept sending the pledge to get more beer. The pledge kept bringing her fresh bottles, which she carefully watched him open. Soon Jody felt herself getting drunk—but just the familiar intoxication of alcohol. After two episodes and five beers, she knew she would have to pump and dump her milk when she got home; no way could she feed Leigh with the blood alcohol content she was acquiring.

Just thinking about her baby made her breasts tingle. She looked down and saw that she had leaked milk right through her bra and onto her blouse.

He probably wouldn't notice the wetness on her shirt, she told herself. The only light in the room was from the TV. Plus, Dylan was a college kid. Even if he saw the wet spot he wouldn't assume it was from a leaky mama's boob. Just in case, she deliberately let her beer bottle tip, and some of it spattered down.

“Oops.” She giggled.

Dylan smiled and put his hand on her thigh. Finally. She met his eyes and took his hand off her leg. “I just met you,” she said.

He smiled and removed his hand, the picture of gentlemanly restraint. But one commercial break later, his hand was back on her leg. Her breasts ached and throbbed. She felt more milk leaking out onto her shirt. If Dylan didn't make a move soon, she was going to explode, or at least get mastitis.

“Oh my God, I'm so drunk” she said. “I should go.”

“No, this is the best part,” Dylan said, pointing to the TV. “You have to see this.”

Her heartbeat accelerated as he got up and walked to the bar. He stood behind the counter and mixed a drink. His hands and the drink were out of her sight, hidden by the counter. He came back to the couch, holding two plastic Solo cups. Was it just her imagination or did one of the other boys give him a sly grin?

Dylan handed her the cup. It was full of ice and red liquid. “We're out of Bud. Do you like fruity drinks?”

“Love 'em,” Jody said. In fact, she had some experience with date-rape drugs. They often tasted salty or bitter, but sweet or salty drinks could mask the taste. Smiling at Dylan, she dipped her index finger into the drink, in what she hoped was a subtle gesture. It was hard to tell. She was already pretty tipsy.

“Cheers,” Dylan said.

He held up his plastic cup. She did the same. They clinked softly against each other.

“Cheers.” She smiled at him. She brought the cup to her mouth and pretended to drink. She could feel the cold liquid on her lips and hoped that those drops weren't enough to do her in. She pretended to swallow and lowered the cup.

Dylan was looking deep into her eyes. If she didn't know better, if she were, say, an eighteen-year-old girl at a frat for the first time, she might think he was looking at her that way because he really liked her.

She took her index finger out of the drink and looked shyly down at her hand. The nail on the finger she'd dipped into the drink was now a dark purple—several shades darker than the lavender on the rest of her fingers.