Everyone else would have to guess.
“Last question,” DarLynn read. “Where was Libby when Peter’s dad suffered a heart attack?” DarLynn turned to her. “Holy moly girl, you’ve led a busy life.”
Libby aimed a crooked smile at her. DarLynn didn’t know the half of it.
“Let’s see, A) at school, B) at home, C) at a footbal game, D) at a dance, E) at work or F) with Peter. Hmm.” DarLynn focused on the computer and studied each answer as if it were a colege entrance exam. She glanced at Libby, hoping for a hint.
“With Peter. You were with Peter when his father had a heart attack.”
“Bzzz. Wrong again. The answer is D) at a dance.”
“Dangit. You won again.” She clicked the D box.” Music suddenly blared from the computer speakers and the screen changed to a banner that read, “Congratulations! You’ve answered al questions correctly. To redeem your two free passes for Jamieson’s Red Rocks, Colorado, concert, enter your email address.
“I don’t have an email address.” Libby panicked that she was so close and yet another hurdle blocked her from Peter.
“Don’t worry, we can open one for you. It only takes a couple minutes.” DarLynn clicked open another screen.
“Excuse me,” the elderly librarian interrupted. “Your time has expired and you need to vacate this computer for the next person.”
“We just need a few more minutes,” Libby pleaded.
“I’m sorry dear. It wil set back the whole schedule. If I give you extra time, then so wil the next person and the next. No, your time is up.”
The old bat had the guts to smile.
“DarLynn, what do we do?”
“Don’t get yer undies in a bundle.” She punched in a couple more keys and hit enter. “Got it!”
A message appeared on the screen instructing them to print the pass for the concert from their email account. DarLynn hit print.
“Thank you!” Libby hugged her tightly.
“Shush.” The librarian waved them away from the computer.
Libby and DarLynn eagerly watched the paper appear from the printer, paid their ten cent copy fee and rushed out of the library. “How did you set up an email account so fast? She didn’t give you even a minute.”
“I didn’t. I knew Gertrude the rude wouldn’t leave us be, so I entered in my info. I used your name, just my email. It’s al good.”
# # #
“Hey Pete, we got another one.” Garrett yeled across the presidential suite of the Intercontinental Hotel.
Peter braced himself and tried not to get his hopes up. Garrett took it upon himself to monitor the incoming “Libby” surveys. He stil felt guilty for hurting Peter. Keeping track of the survey’s was not an easy job, Peter knew, since the site received thousands of hits a day. Fortunately the survey system only forwarded entries with al the questions answered correctly.
“Yeah?” Peter crossed the plush carpet to the laptop. “I don’t know. This seemed like such a good idea a couple of months ago, but al it’s doing is turning our female fans into private eyes and code breakers.”
When he created this contest to find Libby, it was like the flood gates opened in cyber space. Everyone wanted to win the prize. A huge network of folowers worked the odds and figured out the right answers. The odds of randomly getting al ten questions, with six possible answers each, correct were slim.
However, as the search went on, more girls got them right. There were even a couple fan sites that published the correct answers.
“Why in the world should I think this one wil be Libby?” His frustration at not finding her was beginning to get the best of him.
Garrett grimaced. “I don’t know. Al I can say is that if you stop trying, you’l never find her. You have to believe. This could be her and when she shows up at Red Rocks and answers the final question, it’l al be worth it.”
He was right. Peter felt desperate to find Libby, and together the three brothers promoted the search contest everywhere. They did radio and television interviews, put it on Facebook, Twitter and their blog. Garrett even made sure it hit al the fan magazines, but time was running out. Only one concert remained.
“Okay, where’s she from?”
“Pebble Creek, Georgia.” Garrett scroled down the screen.
“Aw, shit, never mind. Her name isn’t even Libby. That was dumb.
Why would a girl pretend to be Libby and then use a different name?”
“What name did she use?” Peter raised his water bottle for a drink.
“Jil Munroe.”
Peter froze, the bottle inches from his mouth. “What