Лорен Кейт - The Betrayal of Natalie Hargrove

I didn’t realize I’d been bearing down so hard on my pen until a big black blob of ink started to bleed through the center of Kate’s note.

Okay, so she was trying to stand by her man — fine. The real issue was how this news might grow as more people saw the note. At least I’d gotten it early enough in its infancy that I could still shape its direction. All I needed to do was tone it down again — with slightly less authorship credit this time.

Since when is Baxter Quinn sober enough to take anything standing up? Forecast of his alibi: passed the eff out. Suspected suspect: pills sold by B.Q. himself earlier that night.

I folded up the note and passed it on, knowing that Kate might push back on this one. But I hoped, in the long run, she’d understand that I was really looking out for her best interests. The sooner Baxter was out of all of our lives, the better.

Fingers crossed, the biting sarcasm of my response would nip this rumor in the bud. But before I had too much time to relax after my smooth operating, the third note of the morning hit my desk.

True or false: Seems like everyone’s in favor of a second interrogation by the hot new cop on the beat.

What did that even mean? I looked around to see where the note had come from, but all the other kids in my immediate vicinity had their eyes glued to the chalkboard where Madame Virge was conjugating irregular verbs. When she put down the chalk, she looked up at the clock and reached for a slip of paper on her desk.

“I have strict orders to read this prompt,” she said, getting everyone’s attention because of the rare break from her native tongue to say something we could actually understand. “Don’t get any ideas about me speaking English after this.”

As the class groaned, Madame Virge cleared her throat and read.

“‘Attention: to anyone who hasn’t yet met with our new police liaison, Officer Parker. You will be called to Principal Glass’s office during your regular study-hall period for a brief questioning. Every student must attend.’ ”

Hmm. I didn’t have study hall until third period, but Mike would have had it first thing in the morning. Why hadn’t he texted to give me a heads-up?

“A.J.,” I whispered to Amy Jane when the bell rang to dismiss us, “did you already have study hall? What’s the deal with this new cop?”

Amy Jane made a pouting face and said, “Not till last period. Sucks — the word is he’s hot as hell.”

I chewed on my nails and ducked out of class in a huff. I wasn’t going to wait to be called down to meet this new liaison officer, hot as hell or not. I rapped on Principal Glass’s door just as the next bell rang.

“Come in,” an unfamiliar voice called.

Through the fishbowl walls, I could see a man in uniform standing behind the principal’s desk, leaning up against the bookshelf. He looked kind of like a skinnier version of Paul Rudd. When I opened the door and stepped in, the first thing I noticed was his badge, shining like it got a fresh rub of polish every day. Then my eyes traveled down to his navy slacks, which were so snug around the groin that I wondered about a dress-code violation. He had dark hair that he’d slicked up in the front, and his thick eyebrows raised when he gestured to one of the chairs in the office and said, “Have a seat. I guess you’re Palmetto’s Princess, Natalie Hargrove.”

“Good news travels fast,” I said. “I guess you’re Officer Parker.”

I took a seat, eyeing him to see whether he was sleazy enough to lean forward and watch as I sat down in my short gray-blue pleated skirt and crossed my legs. So he was that kind of guy.

“I saw your picture in the paper,” Officer Parker explained. “I’ve been reading up on your school, trying to get a feel for things. You might have guessed that they hired me to get to the bottom of what happened last weekend.”

I shrugged. “I hadn’t given it much thought.”

O.P. scratched his prominent chin. “Was Justin Balmer a friend of yours?”

“Not really,” I said. “He played football with my boyfriend.”

“So I hear.” He looked down at his legal pad, then up at me. “And how long have you been with your boyfriend?”

“I’m not sure what that has to do with your interrogation,” I said, holding his gaze. There was something both hot and cold about his hazel eyes, like driving with the windows down and the heat on in the winter.

Officer Parker came around to the other side of the desk. I could smell the musky aftershave on his face. He gave me a thin smile.

“I’m just going to get down to it, Princess,” he said. “This one stinks of something fishier than a drunk kid missing a dose of pills. You may have heard that we’ve got a suspect linked to a movie filmed that night.”

I shook my head but stiffened my grip on the armrest. This was good: The police were already using Baxter’s tape as evidence.

“Of course,” he continued, “that evidence alone doesn’t make the case airtight. And there’s one small problem with it.” He licked his lips. “Any guess what that problem might be?”

“I’m not sure what you mean,” I said, uncrossing and re-crossing my legs.

Officer Parker looked down at them. “You seem like a nice girl. And Baxter Quinn wasn’t much of a cameraman, anyway.” He chuckled, a wheezy, sleazy sound. “A few zesty indiscretions caught on film shouldn’t be held against you.”

I bit my lip. Oh. Shit. In all the time I’d spent brooding over Baxter and the tape, I’d managed to overlook the scintillating scene he had shot of Mike and me earlier in the night. Of course, using that tape to bring down Baxter was too good to be true. I couldn’t believe that this sleazebag cop, with the all-too-knowing twinkle in his eye, had something on me now, too.

“I just wouldn’t want to see your reputation go to hell so soon after you got what you wanted,” O.P. said finally.

“What I wanted?” I asked. Well. How much did he know? I felt so powerless and so exposed, like the whole school could see my thoughts as clearly as they could see through this glass-walled room.

“The crown,” he said simply.

I exhaled.

“Look,” Officer Parker said. He was close enough that I could feel his breath on my cheek. “No one’s using the word blackmail. Personally, I don’t even see a need to use an amateur sex tape in a court of law. Unless. .”

His hand was on my leg. I looked around. Why wasn’t anyone walking by the fishbowl right now to see what a first-class sleaze this guy was?

“What do you want from me?” I hissed.

“You’re in touch with the kids at Palmetto,” he said, removing his hand to cross his arms over his chest. “Point me toward some other evidence to close the case, and we can pretend this footage never even existed.”

“What about Baxter? What about when he comes back?”

Officer Parker held out his hands in a grand shrug. “His word against mine? This flick’s official police evidence now, Princess,” he said. “Some punk kid with a drug problem won’t be able to do a thing about it.”

He extended his hand, and when I put mine out to shake it, he brought it to his lips. “We’ll be in touch, I’m sure.”

I left the office wanting a shower. What if there was more on that DVD that he wasn’t letting onto? What if he was just trying to see how far he’d have to go to make me crack? And what had happened when he talked to Mike?

A small snore to my left made me jump. It was Darla, the Double D, dozing on the couch outside the principal’s office. She must have sensed me standing over her because she shook awake and immediately wiped some drool from the corner of her mouth. She was sporting a Palmetto sweatshirt, almost identical to the one I’d been wearing yesterday, except in baby blue.