Strong, Sleek and Sinful - By Lorie O'Clare Page 0,86

the only one wound up from working a case. Although she couldn’t share with him anything she’d found out or learned, she could show him what to do with all that energy that needed an outlet.

Heading over to the Facebook profile she’d created, she began searching, going from profile to profile, reading every line and checking out pictures and comments posted to each profile. It sickened her how openly teenagers discussed their social lives on one another’s profiles, making it so easy to get to know them if anyone wished to take the time and sift through the millions of profiles on the site to find the ones of interest.

She stumbled onto Dani’s Facebook profile after finding a profile for the Mission High School drama department. Although Dani’s profile said she was ninety-seven years old and lived in Lebanon, there were quite a few references to other kids, and after Kylie checked out each profile she realized who some of them were.

The sound of someone signing on startled her. She was so engaged in what she was doing that she’d even drowned out the TV from the other room. Immediately a chat box popped up in front of the Web site she’d been scrutinizing.

Where were you earlier tonight? I’ve been bored all evening and no one was online.

Convenient opening line. And an obvious guilty conscience. Peter probably just finished dealing with Rita. There wasn’t any reason he should suspect her. Apparently, he felt a need to put in writing he never left the house due to some warped line of thinking that somehow that proved his innocence.

Sorry. I had homework, she typed, and flipped his box behind the Web site to search and see if she could find Rita’s profile. She didn’t, but there were links on all of the pages she went to for Dani’s and some of the other profiles connecting them to a Facebook profile.

Are you done with it now? Talk to me, Kayla. I really need a good friend.

I’m right here. Is something wrong?

Yeah, there is something wrong. It’s my birthday and my parents are leaving town.

She didn’t get the connection but knew he was plotting a good three or four messages ahead of her. Kylie minimized the Web site behind her so she could focus better on the conversation without distractions.

It’s your birthday? she asked, deciding she’d approach the comment about his parents being out of town next. There wasn’t any doubt in her mind where he was heading with that one. And from what she’d learned about teenage girls since she started this case, any of them would be sharp enough to guess why he would bring that up.

Not today—Thursday. But both of my parents are going to be out of town on business. I don’t get a birthday party.

If they’re going out of town, you can have a bash. She cringed after sending it, praying her choice of words didn’t sound too square for a teenage girl.

Call me a nerd if you want, but they would kill me if I had a party while they were gone. And well, it’s not right.

What the hell was his motivation? Maybe he wanted her feeling sorry for him and agreeing to meet him. Or possibly he believed if he portrayed himself as a compassionate soul, she would like him even more and be more likely to do whatever he suggested.

Then it hit her, and without commenting on what he said, she pulled up the Facebook Web site and quickly went to her own profile. She read what she’d written about herself.

It was right there in front of her, on display for all to read: I want someone not afraid to do the right thing even when peer pressure pushes for him to do something else. Show me you stand out in a crowd, honest to a fault and not afraid what your friends might say, and I will go anywhere with you.

“Two points, motherfucker,” she mumbled.

He chimed again. She’d waited too long to respond. Hey, nerds need love, too.

LOL. Are you going to have a birthday party when they come home? Will I get an invite?

I’ll have a party when they get back. But nothing at all is going to happen on the day of my birthday. I’m sure this has never happened to you. You don’t understand how sad that makes me.

She understood more than she would tell him. Her fifteenth birthday had gone by unnoticed. It was such a devastating experience she remembered it