For a man who'd hardly been home the last two days, Mr. Beaumont sure broke his pattern that afternoon. He locked himself in his home office, the one place I needed to be to get Dollinger what he wanted.
Nothing revolted me more than spending time in his mind, but I had to maintain mental contact to complete this mission.
After a long evening and a sleepless night tossing and turning in the guest room, I finally got my chance to snoop the next morning when my target left for work.
While Tommy spent some time with his mother, I snuck into Mr. Beaumont's office and locked it behind me. Gar joined me, as I didn't want him standing guard outside—might as well put up flashing neon lights announcing my intentions, in that case.
Gar stood by the door and watched as I turned on Mr. Beaumont's desktop computer. I'd seen him use his phone and iPad to check appointments, and he probably had a backup calendar on his computer. I'd already captured his password from my long—and torturous—evening of mental spying.
Lucy could have just hacked into his system without the mind probes, but I had to rely on old-fashioned methods.
A few clicks of the keys and up popped his calendar.
My heart raced as I scanned his daily appointments, looking for anything that might incriminate him, while simultaneously scanning the house mentally to make sure I wouldn't get caught.
Work. Work. Business appointment. Work.
Nothing jumped out at me. I looked for anything that evening, as his thoughts had indicated some kind of rendezvous with a young girl.
He'd listed a phone number next to 7 p.m. I jotted it down in a notebook, then pulled open his browser history and looked through his desktop files. I'd need more than a random number to get him.
My hands shook and my stomach heaved at the images I found. The idiot had even photographed himself with young girls. I copied it all onto my USB drive and shut down the computer as quickly as possible. I needed to get out of this house and back to school.
My sweaty palm slipped on the doorknob just as my mind latched onto Mr. Beaumont's. He was home and heading my way. Panic scissored through me. I hid the USB and looked to Gar for guidance, but what could he do? I'd gotten us into this and I'd have to get us out.
Mr. Beaumont would see me leaving his office, but I had to risk it. With a fake smile so big it hurt my cheeks, I walked out and ran straight into his chest. My skin crawled at the contact with this psycho.
"Sam, what are you doing in my office?"
"Looking for you, of course. But you weren't there. I was wondering if you wanted to try another afternoon at the fair? I'm feeling better and thought it might be fun."
Please say no. Please say no.
"I'm sorry, Sam, but I've got some work to do, and I'll be gone this evening for meetings." He pulled out another $300 from his wallet. "If you want to take Tommy, you two have fun. It's on me."
I pocketed the money and slunk away, fighting the vomit that rose in my throat.
I walked into the family room and found Tommy, wearing pressed jeans and a salmon-colored polo shirt, playing on the floor with his yellow truck.
"Vroom, vroom. Watch this, Sam." He crashed the truck into the leg of a handmade rosewood table. Probably not something Tommy should bang against. The whole room could have been modeled after a magazine spread. Not exactly kid friendly with the $3,000 knickknacks. Who spent that much on a decorative egg?
The clicking of high heels—Manolo Blahnik, naturally, because Prada was so last season—approached from behind. Mrs. Beaumont pranced in, tall, blonde and elegant, with big brown eyes like Tommy, draped in a cream cashmere dress that hugged her curves. My jeans and t-shirt just couldn't compete.
"Tommy dear, no slamming toys into the furniture. Why don't you go in your room and play?"
"But Sam is here. I want to play with Sam."
"Actually," I said, "I'm looking for Mr. Dollinger. Have either of you seen him?"
According to her husband's thoughts, she was a dead fish in bed and therefore the cause of his perversions. Yeah, right.
She looked relieved that my presence would no longer be an argument point for the boy. "Yes, he's on his cell phone by the pool. At least he was a moment ago."
I thanked her, gave Tommy a quick hug, and excused myself to the backyard. Gar trailed behind me.
***
This level of wealth didn't impress me the way it might some. We lived well at Rent-A-Kid, with the best of everything—I'd endured so many formal dinners, etiquette training, and socialization classes. At least we enjoyed everything money could buy. After all, we had to impress and fit in with some of the wealthiest people in the world.
Still, their custom pool looked more fitting for a resort than a backyard, with slides in different sizes and shapes, and rock formations and plant life strategically placed to give the whole space a tropical feel. A few fruity drinks with umbrellas, and you'd never know you were in Utah.
Under a transplanted palm tree, my client engaged in an urgent conversation with someone in hushed tones. His pressed pinstripe suit hardly fit the pool setting.
Hmmm... wonder what has money bags so riled?
When he saw me, he ended the conversation and slipped his iPhone into his pocket.
"What is it, Sam?" 'I really hope she's not reading my mind right now... how can I get her to stop?... lalalala... I hope this plan works and I get rid of this ass... does my wife know about Lisa?... it only happened once... no need to tell her... am I getting fat?... maybe I should hit the gym harder when this is all over... Sam is hot... I wonder... such long silky brown hair... clear skin... bright blue eyes... no... she's just a kid... shit... is she listening to me?'
"He has kiddie porn on his computer." I handed him a slip of paper. "Here's a number for his mystery meeting tonight at 7 p.m. You should have everything you need to put him away for good and take over his business."
He smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. His smiles never did. "This is great news. Thanks, I'll call and let them know you did well."
I turned to walk away.
His thoughts stopped me. 'How best to play this... what should I do...? could use this information to my advantage.'
Did I really want to get involved? I'd completed my job. Time to return to Rent-A-Kid. Just walk away. The aftereffects of my work were irrelevant. Not my problem.
I couldn't move. My traitorous body refused to follow my mental commands to keep walking. My heart beat so rapidly I thought it would leap right out of my chest.
I turned to face him, questioning my own sanity even as I did. "You are going to stop him from hurting that girl, aren't you?"
"Yes, of course, I'm as outraged as you. Honestly, I had no idea he had this kind of secret. I assumed we'd catch him at something more benign, like money laundering or tax evasion." 'Disgusting bastard... no idea he was so foul... still... if I get video and pictures... catch him red-handed... I can blackmail him forever... better than just getting him arrested... right?... more money and control for me... could hire someone....'
"No!" My outburst surprised even me. "You can't let him hurt that girl and get away to do it again to someone else. You have to stop him."
"Look, kid, you stay out of my head. I didn't pay you to spy on my thoughts, you hear me?"
The threat of danger bit at me, warning me. Years of unquestioning obedience transformed into a new, entirely unexpected rebellion.
I recalled Beaumont's thoughts. His plans. His past deeds. "I really don't care about your money. I do care about that little girl and all the other little girls he might hurt. So you are going to make sure he is arrested and found guilty, or your wife will get a mysterious note exposing your secret with Lisa."
I reflected on my perfect track record, my future at Sarah Lawrence College, the art contest, the consequences to those who had broken the rules. Would I be fined? Forced to clean the bathrooms with a toothbrush? I weighed all this in my mind, knowing the answer instantly. I knew too much, had seen and heard too much.
No matter. I no longer cared what happened to me.
His face turned bright red, hands balled into fists, jaw grinding.
Might as well add some fuel to the growing fire. "And you should definitely consider hitting the gym. You're getting love handles, and your wife isn't finding them too sexy."
His hand flew at me, and the pain exploded in my cheek as I crashed into the pool. Darkness drew me close, surrounding me in a watery cocoon. Awareness flittered into oblivion. The pain receded into a dull background noise easily tuned out. I barely felt the strong arms pull me out and lay me unceremoniously on the warm tile.
Gar helped me to stand. Dizziness sent me into the arms of my silent sentry.
He held onto me as I regained my balance, then turned to Dollinger with a fierce expression on his face. "That was a mistake." Gar lifted our client by the collar. "Apologize."
I tried to focus my sights on our client, but something blocked my vision. I swiped at my face, and flinched. It felt like a giant golf ball had taken up residence in my eye socket. "Gar, it's okay. Put him down."
Gar paused for a moment, and just when I thought he would beat the man bloody, he dropped him onto the cement.
I did my best to lock eyes with Dollinger. I'd never been physically abused before, and my whole body shook from the pain, adrenaline, and fear. "You will never touch me again. And you will make sure this pervert is put away for good. If you don't, I'll make your life hell. I can reach you anywhere, find out anything about you, and destroy you. Are we clear?"
He glared at me, then at my muscleman, and nodded.
I walked back to the house with the help of my guard.
***
"Oh my dear, what happened? Are you okay?" Mrs. Beaumont rushed to me, her concern masked by too many Botox injections.
"I'm fine, I think. I slipped and fell in the pool. Must've hit my head on the side."
"Come on, dear, let's dry you off and get ice on that. Perhaps we should take you to the doctor."
"No, no doctors. I just need to lie down."
After a warm shower and dry clothes, I rested on my guest bed with ice packs that Tommy replaced each time they melted.
"You're a good nurse, kid."
His eyes glowed bright at the compliment as he eased a fresh icepack onto my face. "You didn't fall, Sam," he whispered. "I saw Uncle Henry hit you. Why would he hurt you like that? That's not right."
I sat up to face him. "I'm sorry you had to see that, buddy. You're right, he shouldn't have done that. But I need you to do me a favor."
"What, Sam?"
"I need you to keep this just between us. No one else can know, okay?"
My heart constricted at his confusion and sadness. How could I do this to him? How could I ask him to lie, to cover up abuse, when I'd just jeopardized my assignment to expose his father? But what choice did I have? I couldn't risk any more problems. I shuddered at the thought of my potential punishments for what I'd already done.
"You want me to lie?"
"Oh, Tommy, I don't know. Of course I don't want you to lie. But there's more going on here than I can tell you right now. Do you trust me?"
"Yes, I sure do!"
"Then please don't tell anyone, okay? And remember, no matter what happens after I leave, I love you and have done everything I can to protect you."
He nodded and snuggled into the bed with me.
I relished those few moments of innocence before I got up to prepare to leave.
By that evening, both my eyes were nearly swollen shut. Gar made the arrangements and scheduled a pickup for me, but I had one more thing to do before we left.
I found Mrs. Beaumont in the kitchen. "Do you have a computer I can borrow? I just want to email my friends that I'm coming home."
"Of course, dear. We're sad to see you go, but so happy that you're no longer in danger."
They had bought the cover story, and now that my assignment was complete, my "father" no longer needed me ensconced in safety.
She led me to her study and logged me into her computer. "There you go. Take your time, I'll be in the living room if you need any help."
"Thank you." Guilt prodded me to talk more than I should have. "Mrs. Beaumont, if something were to happen to your husband, would you and Tommy be okay?"
Her face probably couldn't register surprise, what with the Botox, but a small tear formed in the corner of her eye. "Don't you worry about us, Sam. I know more than you think, and I'll always make sure Tommy is taken care of."
She left the room and left me with more questions than answers. Did she know about her husband's extracurricular activities?
I slipped the memory stick into the computer and opened up an email as Mrs. Beaumont. It only took a second to find the FBI email address for tips. I attached the pictures, wrote a brief message exposing Mr. Beaumont, and hit Send. Right or wrong, I had to be sure this bastard paid.
Gar had stood behind me the whole time, probably to make sure I didn't expose Rent-A-Kid in any way. When I looked at him, he gave a curt nod. I think he approved of my choice.
He checked his watch. "We have to go now."
Before we left the room, I pulled Gar around to face me. "Thank you for defending me, and for letting me do this."
His lips twitched just the slightest. "I have a daughter. You did the right thing."
He turned and walked away before I could say anything else. I tried to imagine Gar with a family, but the picture didn't fit—like that "which of these doesn't belong" game. But everyone had to come from somewhere. No one was created in a lab.
Gar had left the door open for me, and I went back to the guest room to get my bags and make sure I hadn't forgotten anything.
Time to say goodbye to Tommy.
He clung to me and cried, begging me not to leave.
In a move that broke more rules than I could count, I slipped a picture into his pocket of the two of us, from the fair we'd gone to. I'd managed to get pictures of us together in one of those booths while Gar used the bathroom. Don't leave any evidence of your presence. Avoid cameras and photos. Remove surveillance before you leave. Erase anything with your image on it. They'd drilled those rules into me since I was a kid. But I gave Tommy something no one in the outside world had: a tangible reminder that I'd been there.
"I don't want you to go. Can't you stay? Please? I promise I'll be good!" He looked at me with those big sad eyes.
I fought back the tears. "No matter what, remember that I love you. If you ever get scared, just close your eyes and meet me in that special room we made together in our minds. Remember?"
"Yes, Sam, I remember." His voice cracked on my name. Tears slid down his soft, baby cheeks.
"I'll always be able to hear you, and you'll know I'm there, okay?" I hoped. Having memorized his mental frequency, I planned to check up on him, if I could reach that far. Maybe once out on my own, I could find a way to help him. Distance reading was no simple task, but I would get better. I had to.
I kissed him on the cheek and plopped into the limo, slinging my book bag onto the seat next to me. My guard sat in the front with the driver.
A phone rang. I answered it, knowing who it was ahead of time.
"You broke protocol." Higgins didn't sound happy.
"Yes, I had to," I replied without remorse.
"You'd better hope this doesn't get out of our control, Sam. Otherwise, your retirement plans might be affected."
The threat lingered like the monster of long ago, hiding in my closet at night, waiting for me to fall asleep. Whatever. I didn't regret my choices.
"Everything will be fine," I said. And I believed it.
