Did Harper feel bad about her parents’ deaths?
Not exactly.
After hearing about the deaths of her parents, a neighbor had brought Harper a pie—“comfort food,” the woman had explained. Harper had said nothing, merely kept her gaze fixated on the hardwood floor beneath her feet. Taking her silence as grief, the neighbor had left. But sorrow wasn’t the emotion Harper had been experiencing at the time. She’d been struggling not to smile. Harper’s dad was dead, and he would never be a threat to her younger sisters, Aria and Sawyer, or to her daughter, Ella.
Amen.
The screen lit up. From the looks of things, Malice had missed one lengthy conversation. She said hello and then quickly skimmed through the earlier text, which was mostly about Brad Vicente. The rapist was in jail, trying to get enough people to sign a petition so he could appeal his sentence. His story was trending on social media. Thousands of people were taking sides. Team Vicente had 60 percent of the commenters, and Team Black Wigs had 40 percent, down 25 percent from the week of his arrest.
Lily was not happy about Brad having a voice after causing so many young women to suffer. They had videos as proof, but Brad Vicente had managed to convince his followers that someone had used high-tech equipment to put his image in the disgusting films on all those social media outlets. “Anyone can download deepfake software and create phony videos,” he was fond of saying.
Malice caught up in time to join the other members in their conversation about D-Day.
It was Bug’s turn for revenge.
Twenty-seven, five foot two with dreadlocks and dark eyes, Bug was feisty and highly intelligent. Ten years ago she’d been a cheerleader for the varsity football team when she was tricked into following the quarterback across the playing field and into a wooded area so thick with trees even the moonlight failed to shed any light on what was awaiting her.
Held down by a defensive linebacker, Bug was raped by the quarterback and a wide receiver. She was strong. They were stronger. She couldn’t kick. Her screams were muffled.
Afterward, bruised and bleeding, she told her parents, and together they filed a report with the police. School authorities were alerted. The case went to court, but the rapists were from affluent households. Big money bought big lawyers, and in the end they were allowed to walk free. No slap on the hand. No lectures. Boys will be boys.
LILY: What’s the plan for this weekend? Are we still on?
BUG: Yes. All three of my boys will be attending. Unfortunately the defensive linebacker is bringing his wife along. Not worried. I’ll figure it out.
CLEO: How do you know your boys will be there?
BUG: I’ve been “friends” on Facebook with 90 percent of the football team for years. I use an alias. I know when my boys are on vacation or if they are enjoying adult beverages downtown. I know if they’re married with children or if they’re dating. I know as much about them, if not more, than Mark Zuckerberg.
It was probably true, Malice thought. Bug had talked about her job as a white hat hacker, a computer specialist who broke into protected systems and networks to test their security.
PSYCHO: How do you intend to get these guys away from everyone else?
BUG: I plan to trick them, just like they tricked me ten years ago. I already know their names, addresses, and cell phone numbers. On the night of the reunion, I’m going to send the defensive linebacker and his two rapist friends a text using a cell number belonging to one of their good buddies who can’t attend because he’ll be out of town. The text will ask my boys to meet at a specific area where The Crew will be waiting.
PSYCHO: More details, please. Transportation?
BUG: I have a van I got off Craigslist in Los Angeles over a year ago, weeks after we formed our group. License plates are registered to a sex offender in the area. Once my boys are tied up and ready to go, we drive to the cabin in Auburn.
CLEO: I received an email this morning. Looks like the cabin in Auburn is a no-go.
BUG: You told me the cabin was a sure thing.
CLEO: I’m sorry.
Malice instantly thought of the construction site where her husband had been working when the builder ran out of money and couldn’t complete the project. She’d heard the project would be stalled for another two years at least.
MALICE: There’s an abandoned subdivision in North Sacramento. Before phase one barely got started, the builder went bankrupt. Five houses were framed. Three others have everything except flooring and appliances. I was with my husband when he picked up his equipment, which was stored in the basement of one of the model homes. There was a steel security door, but you would need a padlock.
BUG: Is the subdivision fenced?
MALICE: Not all of it. To the left side of the construction site is chain-link fencing. If you walk or drive along the fence line, you’ll come across an opening that will take you to what would have been the backyard of one of the homes.
BUG: If you have an address, I’ll take a look tomorrow morning before work.
Malice gave her directions.
PSYCHO: Okay. Let’s assume you’ll take your boys to the abandoned house. The reunion is Saturday. How long do you plan to keep them tied up for?
BUG: I don’t know. Two or three days at least.
CLEO: What’s the plan?
BUG: I want to humiliate them. Scare them. Make them feel trapped. I want every one of them to know what it’s like to have no control over what happens. I thought about making them sign a letter of apology, but I’m not sure what good it would do.
CLEO: Too risky. A letter like that would reveal your identity.
LILY: How so?
CLEO: I think he would easily guess who was behind this scheme.
BUG: Not true. When I took QB, WR, and DL to court, other women came forward. Two of the women agreed to get on the stand. Others came to me privately and told me QB had raped them too, but they wanted to remain anonymous.
PSYCHO: I vote no to the letter idea, but yes to everything else. Make them sweat.
CLEO: I think we should only take QB. We have trouble handling one man, let alone three. These guys all have jobs, which means they have bosses and coworkers who will want to know where they are. Not to mention family. All three men attend a reunion and fail to return home by morning. That’s going to bring the FBI right to your door, possibly my door.
LILY: I agree with Cleo. Even without family and friends, cars driving in and out of an abandoned subdivision will call attention to us. Somebody will take notice and call the police.
MALICE: There are no homes surrounding the abandoned subdivision. Nothing but dry grass and oak trees, so that won’t be a problem.
BUG: Just help me get these men to the destination, and I’ll do the rest.
CLEO: I still don’t understand why you can’t just focus on QB.
BUG: It’s not only QB’s face I see in my nightmares. QB and WR may have raped me, but it was DL who held me down. I can still hear his laughter.
Malice’s mind was made up. If Bug had her mind set on holding three men captive for several days, even a week or two, then so be it. Malice had helped form The Crew for a reason. Too many offenders, like her father, got away with this abuse. It was up to them to send a message.
MALICE: I’m in. After the targets have been secured, I can help during the day while my kids are at school.
PSYCHO: I can do whatever you need me to do.
LILY: I’m in.