Then Julie clicked on an attachment. It was a still shot of Mr. Granger leaning toward Justine Williams. Ava gasped.
Then Julie opened an email that said Field Trip. Caitlin squinted at the message.
You’re a funny guy, Mr. G. Unfortunately I cannot provide all originals unless we double the amount we previously agreed on. My car got keyed again. Fixing that is expensive, you know?
“Like Nolan needed teacher-salary-level money,” Mackenzie muttered. “The guy was loaded!”
“Let’s try not to feel too sorry for Granger,” Julie snarled.
Caitlin’s heart pounded. She reached for her phone in her pocket. “I’m calling Detective Peters. This is some serious proof that Nolan was blackmailing him.”
“I told you,” Ava said.
“Yes, do it,” Julie ordered.
With shaking fingers, Caitlin dialed the station. It rang six times before someone picked up. “I need to speak with Detective Peters,” she said after the officer identified himself. “Please,” she added.
The officer snorted. “Peters is off duty. Do you want to leave a message?”
She blinked. Since when were detectives off duty? She thought they were like doctors, always on call. “Is his partner there? Detective Mc . . . McGillicutty?”
“Miss, if you haven’t noticed, it’s ten PM. Is this urgent?”
“Well, it’s really important. It’s about the Nolan Hotchkiss case. I’ve . . . found something. Maybe I could drop it with you?”
The cop paused, almost like he was considering it. Then he said, “You’ll have to speak to Peters. I’ll tell him you’re coming. What’s your name?”
Caitlin froze. Something about telling him her name seemed like a bad idea, but she did it anyway. The cop repeated it back to her, and then said Peters would see her at noon tomorrow. Then the line went dead.
Caitlin turned to the others, her mouth hanging open.
“Well?” Mac asked. “Are we going?”
She shook her head, explaining what had happened. Julie’s shoulders slumped.
“What should we do in the meantime?” Mackenzie asked.
They all went silent for a long moment, thinking. Then Caitlin started her car again. “I guess we do what we have to do,” she said. “We get through the night . . . and then we go rat this jerkwad out.”
She dropped off the girls at the parking lot where they’d left their cars. They made a plan to meet the next morning at the police station. Then Caitlin pulled away, her head humming. Even though she knew she should go home and get some rest, she knew she’d be too wired to sleep. She needed to talk to someone.
And suddenly, she realized who that someone was.
Ten minutes later, she pulled up to the Fridays’ curb. Most of the windows were dark, but a single one shone in the basement. Caitlin’s heart thudded as she slipped out of the car. Mercifully, Josh’s car wasn’t in the driveway. He had texted her earlier this evening, asking if she wanted to go out with his buddies to celebrate winning the big game on Wednesday—something she’d barely thought about since it happened. But he hadn’t seemed particularly bummed when she declined. Besides, it wasn’t Josh she wanted to see tonight. It was Jeremy.
Caitlin tiptoed around to the back of the house where the basement windows were and peered inside. Her heart lifted. There was Jeremy, sitting on the couch, watching Cartoon Network, looking adorable.
She tapped once on the window. His head immediately snapped up, and his face brightened when he saw it was her. He leaped to his feet and unlocked the basement door. “What are you doing here?” he asked in a bewildered voice, his cheeks flushed.
“I—I wanted to see you,” Caitlin said, suddenly feeling embarrassed.
“I thought you were out with Josh,” Jeremy said. Then he looked at her carefully. “You seem . . . frazzled. Is everything okay?”
Caitlin looked away. Of course she wasn’t okay, but there was no way she was going to drag him into the Granger nightmare. “I’ve just had a confusing and weird couple of days.”
Jeremy cocked his head. “I thought you’d be on cloud nine. You know, after the soccer victory.”
Caitlin shut her eyes. She should be on cloud nine. She’d scored three goals in that game. The UDub recruiter had spoken to her personally afterward, saying there was a spot for her on the university team. Her teammates and her moms had swarmed her, giving her huge hugs, and she’d wanted to feel elated and victorious, like she used to when the team had a win. But she felt as if there were a hole in the part of her that used to love soccer. Or maybe everything else she was worried about—thinking about—was taking up all the available space.
“There’s more to life than soccer,” she said simply, looking at Jeremy.