Rumor Central (20 page)

I
paced up and down the sidewalk of the Miami-Dade Police Department. Daniel was supposed to meet me at the police station this morning to file a report. But Daniel was twenty minutes late and not answering his stupid phone. I was just about to call his office again when the phone rang and my dad's number popped up.

“Hey, sweet pea,” he said.

“Dad, oh my God!”

“What's wrong?”

“Daniel isn't here yet.”

“That's actually what I was calling about. He just called. He got summoned back into court unexpectedly so he's going to have to reschedule.”

“Reschedule! My life is in danger and he has to reschedule?”

“Honey, it couldn't be avoided. We'll do it in the morning.”

I couldn't believe this. “Why can't you come?”

“Sorry, I'm actually tied up and can't get away.”

“What do you mean, can't get away? I need to get this reported.”

“You don't need me for that. Just go in there and file a report.”

I couldn't believe this! My life was in danger and he couldn't get away?

He hung up before I could say another word. I couldn't believe I had to endure this. “Uggh!” I dropped my phone into my purse and headed to the police station.

Some yellow-haired old woman looked up at me like I was bothering her. “May I help you?”

Yeah, you can start by getting an attitude adjustment
, I wanted to say. Instead, I just said, “Yes, I need to file a police report.”

She eyeballed me before grabbing a clipboard and handing it to me.

“Why do I have to do all of this? I just need to talk with someone,” I said.

“Fill this out, please,” she said, pushing the clipboard toward me again.

“Ugggh!” I snatched the clipboard then stomped off. I glanced around the dirty police station. Where in the world was I supposed to sit? This place was disgusting. I stood at the counter, quickly scribbling in the blanks, before handing the papers back to the woman. “
Now
, can I talk to someone?”

She took the clipboard and set it down.

“My dad is Myles Morgan.”

The woman looked at me, unfazed. “My dad is Michael Jackson,” she said with a straight face.

Oh, she had jokes. At a time like this? I didn't think so.

“Is your manager in?” I asked. I was not about waste any more time with this old hag.

Just then, an overweight man walked up.

“Hey, Shirley, what's going on?”

“Are you a manager?”

He laughed. “I'm a supervisor. This isn't Burger King.”

So everybody had jokes.

“Yes, I'm trying to file a police report,” I said. “My life is in danger and this thing here is acting like I'm irritating her.”

The woman looked like she was about to say something, but the man put his hand on her arm. “Shirley, I'll take this.” He turned to me. “Come on back.”

I rolled my eyes as I stomped past her. I pulled my purse close as I walked down the long hall. Even though I was in a police station, I didn't feel safe.

Inside his grungy office, the officer motioned for me to sit down.

“Now, what is it I can do for you?” he asked.

“I'm being stalked.”

He glanced down at my paperwork. “So, someone is texting you and hanging outside your house.”

“And jumped me in the parking lot of the mall. It's crazy and I need something done.”

He looked up at me and sarcastically said, “Maybe it's because you're so fabulous. I mean, that's what you wrote here,” he said, tapping the notes section.

“That's exactly what it is,” I said, without missing a beat.

He chuckled, shook his head, then said, “Ma'am, we have your report. We'll put it in the system.”

“And then what? You need to investigate, call the SWAT team, make an arrest.”

He set his pen down and folded his hands in front of him. “And who would you like us to arrest?”

“Whoever it is that is doing this.”

“And who would that be?”

“I don't know,” I snapped. “It's probably Bali Fernandez.”

“Who is that?”

“A former friend. It's either him or Sheridan, or Shay or Evian.”

He had the nerve to roll his eyes. “So you don't know who it is?”

“It's one of them. I'm almost sure of it.”

“Where's your proof?”

“I don't have any!” He was working my nerves.

“Ma'am, we have some real crimes to solve.”

“This is a real crime,” I said, pounding his desk. See, if my dad had been here, they wouldn't be treating me like this.

“Well, if you don't know who we should arrest, how are we supposed to know?”

“Isn't that what I pay you for?” I snapped.

“You pay me?” He smiled. “Can I have a raise?”

“You know what I mean. My tax dollars pay you.”

“Oh, you pay taxes?”

“Well, my daddy's tax dollars pay you, so technically, you work for me. And I need you to find out who this is that's stalking me.”

He sighed like he was tired of dealing with me. “We'll get right on it. I'll call
CSI Miami
to see if they can investigate.”

I stared at him, trying to see if he was being funny. Then it dawned on me that
CSI
was some TV show. I wasn't going to waste my time with this man. It was obvious the police weren't going to help me. And if I wanted to get to the bottom of who was attacking me, it looked like I would have to do it myself.

I
never had any intention of playing private eye. But it was like nobody took this stalker serious but me (and well, Bryce, but he didn't count). My dad wasn't making it a priority; the police had all but blown it and me off. So, the last thing I wanted was everyone sitting around at my funeral talking about, “I should've listened.” I was going to take matters into my own hands.

My first move was to get some evidence against Jenn. Or Jenn and Sheridan. I had to sneak into the locker room.

The idea seemed pretty simple, at first. Since my gut was telling me Jennifer Graham was key to figuring out who my stalker was, and since Jenn was the student tutor for the girls' basketball team, I figured I would start there.

Over the past couple of days, I had monitored their practice schedule and decided this was the day to make my move. I was not, and had no desire to be, an athlete, so I knew it would come as a surprise to many to see me in the gym.

“You need something?” one of the coaches asked. I hadn't even seen her come up behind me. “You must be lost.”

“Oh, no. I'm scouting locations for my next story,” I lied.

She looked at me all cockeyed, like she wanted to say something, but decided against it in the end. Ever since I'd started working at
Rumor Central
, when people saw me around campus they were guarded. It was almost like everyone was scared I'd be exposing their secret or looking for something wrong. I didn't have time to worry about her feelings, though, so I kept walking.

Once I made it down the hall a bit, I turned and saw the coach was still looking at me. I could only imagine the thoughts that ran through her mind.

Practice would be over in less than thirty minutes and I needed her to leave so I could move forward with my plan.

At the end of the hall, I stopped and knelt down near a back door. I stretched my arms out like I was trying to measure the width of the door. The coach watched me for a few minutes; then she turned and walked out of the door.

The moment I realized she was gone, I waited a couple more minutes, and then I ran back down the hall and into the locker room.

“Uuugghh!” The thick smell of musk and feet assaulted my nostrils and nearly brought tears to my eyes.

“Man, if this is what the girls' locker room smells like, I can't even imagine what the boys' locker rooms are like,” I muttered. I swallowed and blinked a few times.

I only had about fifteen minutes before the place would be crowded with players and I didn't want to be caught. I glanced around and searched for anyone who might be hanging out in the locker room. Confident that I was alone for the most part, I dug into the bag that was slung across my body. I pulled out the small digital voice recorder and the packaging tape.

Once I had picked the perfect spot, I straddled the bench that was in the middle of the row of lockers. All of a sudden I heard a noise that made me go cold.

Had someone come in? By my calculation they still had a good ten minutes of practice left.

A creaking noise seemed to be getting closer and closer. I flicked the switch into the on position on the recorder and sat as still as possible and waited for someone to say something to me.

Instead, I heard what sounded like muffled music. That's when I slowly turned and realized it was the janitor. She had on a pair of headphones and she used a feather duster like a microphone. She had stopped her trash can on wheels to belt out a song in Spanish. Her eyes were closed as if she was really into whatever song she was singing. I turned and quickly reached under the bench. I tapped the recorder in place before I stood.

A few seconds later, her eyes opened and she jumped, like I had startled her. She snatched off the headphones and smiled nervously at me.

I smiled back, nodded, and scooted past her and the big trash can she had wheeled into the aisle. I kept walking and didn't look back.

Just as I made it halfway down the hall, the door from the gym burst open and a group of boisterous players came rushing through. I had made it out just in time.

Once I rushed back outside, I went to the parking lot and climbed into my car. The plan was simple, I'd wait until most of the players left the locker room; then I'd sneak back in to get the recorder.

Nearly an hour later, I still sat waiting. I was more than frustrated, but I needed to figure out what was going on.

Because of the idle time, I started to wonder whether this was really a good idea. What if someone found the recorder? What if I was caught removing it? As doubt started to settle in, I looked up and saw some action.

The players had trickled out of the locker room in pairs at first, but a few seconds later they were coming out in groups. Just like I suspected, Jenn was one of the last ones out. My heart quickened when I saw Sheridan right next to her. So it was Sheridan she was working with!I waited for them to get in their cars and leave; then I got out of my car and started walking toward the gym.

Getting back inside wasn't as easy as it had been before. I grabbed the handle on the door and it was locked! My heart sank to my feet.

“Dang! The stupid doors lock when you come out!” I mumbled.

I cupped my hands up against the glass and peered inside.

The hallway was empty. Not a soul was in sight!

Just then, I saw someone walk out of the locker room and stroll toward the door. I jumped back and waited.

“Dang, you scared me,” she said the moment I popped out to catch the door when she walked out.

“Sorry,” I said and quickly dashed inside.

This time, I moved with authority, like I belonged there. Once I was inside again, I couldn't remember which row! I hadn't counted. I started looking at names and after walking the third row, I found the bench.

I straddled the bench, eased my hand underneath, and plucked my recorder.

I switched the off button and ran up out of the gym. I kept running until I made it back outside and to my car.

I
couldn't wait to get home and listen to the tape. I just knew that it would hold the key to helping me figure out who was behind all my drama.

Since I was too anxious to wait, I pulled into the Starbucks parking lot next to our school, whipped out the recorder, and pressed play. At first, there was nothing but crackling sounds and people laughing as they filed in and out of the locker room. Then I heard it. Sheridan's voice.

“So, did you do it?”

“I did what you asked me to,” the other person said, sounding irritated.

I strained a little to make out the other voice.

“Look, if it's a problem—” Sheridan said.

“It's not a problem. I did it, okay?”

Okay, now I was sure. That was definitely Jenn. I knew I was on to something!

“Then why are you trippin'?” Sheridan asked.

“I just don't like this.”

“It's almost over.”

“I just don't feel right about it.”

“Okay, just do this one last thing for me and I won't ask you anymore.”

“That's what you said the last time,” Jenn said. “I'm sorry, Sheridan. I'm done.”

Sheridan huffed. “So, it's like that?”

“Yeah. You're on your own now.”

“What am I supposed to do?”

“I don't know, but I can't help you anymore.”

The tape grew silent, except for the sound of someone walking away. Then, Sheridan screamed, “Ugggh!” before hitting what sounded like a locker.

I fell back in my seat. I was happy that my suspicions had been confirmed, but frustrated because I knew that wouldn't be enough for police. I needed Sheridan to confess to actually doing something, to admit to being behind the stalking. Based on what I had right now, all of my sneaking around had been for nothing!

I tossed the recorder down, ready to give up. But just as quickly as that thought came, I pushed it away.

No, I would have to figure out another way.

My cell phone rang and I looked down to see Bryce's number pop up. I almost didn't answer, but I was frustrated and who better to unleash on than Bryce.

“What do you want?” I said, answering.

“You.”

“Please, Bryce. Your little girlfriend may buy your game, but I don't,” I snapped as I started my car back up.

“It's not a game. She's not my girlfriend. And I wish you would stop saying that.”

“I wish a lot of things, Bryce,” I said softly. I didn't mean for my attitude to up and leave, but it took off on its own.

“Look,” he said. “I just wanted to know what happened with the police.”

“None of your business.”

“You might as well let me help you because I'm not giving up.”

I was so frustrated I wanted to cry. And it took a lot to make me cry. “You probably just want me to stop doing the show, too. Hey, for all I know, you're the stalker,” I couldn't help but add.

He let out a small laugh. “Yeah, I'm stalking you, but I'm not sneakin' and doin' it. I want you back and I'm not trying to hide. I don't care who knows it.”

That made me smile and I was actually glad he couldn't see me. “Whatever, Bryce.”

“Where are you going?”

I paused as I thought about what he was saying. “How do you know I'm
going
anywhere?” I looked around the parking lot.

“Uh, I don't know,” he stammered. “It just sounds like you're in your car.”

I relaxed a little. My paranoia was getting to me. “Don't worry about where I'm going. Matter of fact, don't worry about me. I'll work all of this out and it's nothing you need to be concerned about.”

He sighed. “Okay, Maya. But I'm here if you need my help.”

I rolled my eyes. “Don't worry. I don't need your help. Not now, not ever.” I hung up the phone and pulled out into traffic.