Trust Me (9 page)

“Uh, I think so,” Rae answered, startled. She started digging through her purse, pulling out every coin she could
find and making a little pile on the table.

“It takes singles, too,” Mr. Fascinelli told her. He stood there, his eyes unblinking as he stared at her.

“Oh. Okay.” Rae pulled out her wallet and plopped the four singles she found next to the change.

Mr. Fascinelli scooped up the money. “Okay, when I get back, I’ll give you twenty minutes to read me the Bible or
witness to me. Whatever gets your little teen Christian rocks off.”

He was striding toward the vending machine before Rae could answer. She slowly sat down and rested her hands
flat on the table. /^^usjij'/shouldn’t have
come/ oh God/ want to be/

The thoughts came through fuzzy. The emotions-the anger, the sadness, the hopelessness, the happiness-came
through fuzzy, too. So many fingerprints on the table. So many people going through so much. How many of them-Mr. Fascinelli, loaded down with vending machine snacks, sat back down in front of Rae, pulling her away from her
thoughts. “Go for it. You’re on the clock.”

“Okay.” Rae clasped her hands, not wanting to be distracted by any thoughts but her own. “Okay, first, I’m not
from a religious group or anything.”

“Then who are you?” Mr. Fascinelli asked, his fingers frozen on the soda can he’d been about to open.

“I’m a friend of your son’s,” Rae answered. “Anthony,” she added quickly, remembering Mr. Fascinelli had at least
one other son.

Mr. Fascinelli jerked to his feet. “I’m ready to go back in,” he called to the closest guard.

Rae stood up, too. “I just want to talk to you for a minute,” she pleaded. “Anthony’s been wanting to find you for a
long-”

“Don’t bring him here. If you do, I won’t see him,” Mr. Fascinelli interrupted. He scooped up the bags of chips and
nuts and the cans of soda as the guard stepped up to the table.

“You sure you’re ready-” the guard began.

“Get me away from her,” Mr. Fascinelli answered.

So I called your house last night. You weren t there. And I didn’t hear any kind of cocktail party going on.

Yeah, that’s exactly what Anthony was going to say to Rae. If he didn’t just grab her and scream, “Why the hell are
you lying to me?” Not that he was going to be able to do either if she didn’t get her butt to group. The session was
supposed to start in less than five minutes, and Rae was still a no-show.

Anthony leaned against the front wall of the institute, the brick hard and itchy against his back.
Has something

already happened to her?
he wondered.
Has
whatever
it is she’s been hiding gotten out of control?

Crap. Hadn’t the girl figured out how dangerous it was to try to handle a bad situation with no backup?

“Anthony,” a voice called. He whipped his head toward the sound and saw Ms. Abramson, the group leader,
heading toward him. “Come on. Time to get inside,” she told him. He pushed himself away from the wall and
followed her into the building. What else could he do? When they reached the therapy room, he took a seat in the
metal chairs in the circle like a good boy, nodded to Jesse, then locked his eyes on the door.
Come on, Rae,
he
thought.
Come on.

As if he had willed it, the door swung open and Rae hurried inside. She slid into the closest chair, looking terrible-sweaty and gray faced. All Anthony wanted to do was rush over to her and just… he wasn’t even sure what he
wanted to do. Accuse her of lying. Put his arm around her. Ask her if she was all right. Call her a freakin’ idiot.

“Okay, gang, time to start,” Abramson announced. Which meant for now, Anthony wasn’t going to do anything at
all.

“Let’s begin by going around the circle and hearing updates,” Abramson continued. “Matt, why don’t you go first
this time?”

Anthony reluctantly turned his gaze toward Matt. Abramson would be all over him if he didn’t at least look like he
was paying attention. It was part of “respecting the group.” But he only half listened as Abramson pried out a
response from Matt one word at a time. The other half of his head was totally occupied by Rae. He cut a quick
glance at her. She was blotting the sweat off her forehead with a Kleenex, but it wasn’t helping. New droplets kept
popping up. She looked like any second she could puke.

“Ms. Abramson,” Rae called out, interrupting one of Matt’s long silences. “I’m not feeling well. My dad’s in the
parking lot. Can I-?”

“Of course. Go on,” Abramson answered, making little shoo-shoo motions with her hands. “Give me a call if there
is anything you want to talk about before our next group.”

“Thanks,” Rae mumbled. Then she stood up and rushed out of the room.

She’s lying again,
Anthony thought. Yeah, she looked sick, but there was something… off. Something false.

“I just, uh, want to make sure she gets to the car okay. She looked kind of shaky.” Anthony didn’t wait for
Abramson to reply. He just strode out of the room, slowing down when he hit the hallway. All he wanted to do was
make sure she actually ended up in her father’s car. There was no reason Rae had to see him checking up on her.

When he reached the main doors, he gave a five count, then pushed them open. With three long steps he was in a
position that allowed him to see the entire parking lot-including Rae climbing into Yana’s car.

He’d known something was going on. If he’d thought it was some girlie thing-like a covert trip to the mall-then hey,
no problem. But Rae’d lied to him. She’d forgotten about one of their tutoring sessions. Make that two. She’d cut out
on a swimming lesson.

Anthony knew Rae. And none of that was Rae. “Yeah, whatever’s going on with her is big,” he muttered. And he
was going to find out what it was before the day was out.

“Did you actually buy this stuff so you could play sick?” Rae asked as she wiped the makeup off her face.

Yana laughed. “No. The first time I put it on, I realized it made my face look gray. I was going to return it, but I was
too lazy. Then I realized it could actually be useful.”

“The dabbing your face with a damp tissue-sheer brilliance,” Rae said.

Yana pulled onto the freeway entrance ramp and pressed down on the accelerator. “Yeah, I should write a book,
huh?
How to Fake Your Way Out of Anything.
”

“Into or out of,” Rae added. “That is, if you really do get me as close to Tony Fascinelli as you say you can.”

“You never should have tried to see him without me,” Yana told her. “When are you going to realize that you need
me for these little missions?”

Yana smiled, but her smile looked a little tight.
God, I think I actually hurt her feelings.
Yana always acted like she
didn’t care about anything. But clearly at least a little part of her attitude was forced.

“You’re right,” Rae answered. “I wasted a trip because I didn’t bring you in right away. I just thought Anthony
wouldn’t want-”

“And I’m going to say something to him?” Yana demanded.

“No. Of course not. No,” Rae said quickly.

Yana nodded, then punched on the radio. Rae was glad to have the pulsing music filling the car. It made it almost
impossible to talk, and she thought it was better to shut up for a while, even though she was dying to ask Yana
exactly how she planned to get them into Scott State. With the mood Yana was in, it was better just to wait and see-a
show of trust.

Rae kept her mouth closed when they pulled in the Scott State parking lot. She didn’t ask one question as they
headed over to the security booth.

“We have an appointment to see the warden. Yana Savari and Rae Voight,” Yana told the guard.

An appointment?
Rae wondered. This would be interesting.

The guard spoke into his walkie-talkie, and a few minutes later another guard appeared. Luckily she hadn’t run into
either of these guys the last time she’d been here. She hadn’t even thought about what she’d say if someone
recognized her.

“I’m Jon Powning,” the new guard said. “You can call me Jon. I’ll take you inside.” He had a nice face-long
dimples like Marcus’s and hazel eyes that seemed to say, I’m a friendly guy. Rae told herself she shouldn’t be
surprised. She had to get over her prejudice that everyone who worked in a prison was some kind of monster. Her
last visit, she’d been treated decently. There was no reason to think she wouldn’t be again.

All Rae’s rational thinking didn’t stop her knees from shaking as the guard led her and Yana inside the prison,
through the metal detector, past the drug-sniffing dogs, then into an elevator and up to the warden’s office. It didn’t
matter how cheerful and chatty the guard was. It was like the prison itself was sending waves of fear directly into
her bones.

Rae rubbed her hands together. Her fingertips felt vulnerable without their coat of Mush. The last thing she wanted
to do was touch anything in here, but she knew she was going to have to if Yana managed to get her close enough
to Tony Fascinelli for Rae to take another shot at him.

Jon pressed down the intercom button. “Powning here. I have the girls,” he said. He released the button, and a
second later there was a long buzz and the click of the lock releasing. Jon shoved open the door and gestured the
girls in ahead of him.

“Just one second,” the man behind the desk-the warden-said. He held up one finger and did hunt-and-peck on his
computer keyboard with a finger on his other hand. He stabbed at a couple more keys, muttered a curse under his
breath, hit another key, then looked up and smiled at Yana. “Welcome back. I’ve got everything set up for you.” He
turned toward Rae and stuck out his hand. She shook it, managing to avoid fingertip-to-fingertip contact.

“I’m Jason Driver, the warden,” he told Rae. “You’re pretty much guaranteed an A on your paper, thanks to your
persuasive friend here.” He winked at Yana. Yana winked right back. “After we’re through with you, you’re going to
know exactly what it feels like to be a prisoner at Scott State,” the warden continued.

Rae wrapped her arms around herself, hoping the little shiver that had skittered through her at his words hadn’t
been visible to anyone. “Great,” she answered. “That sounds great.”

“Yeah,” Yana added. “I told the warden that you and I had already toured a women’s prison but that we wanted to
do a compare and contrast with a men’s prison.”

“Great,” Rae repeated.

“Our tour is going to be a little different,” the warden told them. “We want you to see the place through the eyes of
a prisoner. So the first step is to get you into your prison clothes.”

Anthony stared at the prison through the windshield of the Hyundai. What could Rae and Yana possibly be doing
in there? It wasn’t even visiting hours-at least, Anthony hadn’t seen anyone else going in.

He twisted in his seat, trying to get more comfortable, but his muscles were too tight.
There could be a completely

normal reason for them to be here,
he told himself. Except if the reason was so freakin’ normal, why had Rae been
sneaking around, lying to him?

Anthony glanced over at Yana’s yellow Bug. It was parked in the row ahead of him, in plain sight. Rae wasn’t going
to get out of the lot without an explanation.

How long have I been in here?
Rae wondered, her heart beating so fast, it felt like a flutter in her chest instead of a
steady glub-dub, glub-dub.

It can’t have been even half an hour,
she told herself.
Smiling Jon the guard is just giving you a taste of the hole.

He’s having a cigarette or chewing some gum or whatever. In a minute he’s going to come and let you out.

Rae pulled her knees tighter to her chest and tried to scoot even farther away from the open toilet. It was pointless.

Her solitary cell was so tiny that no matter where she moved, she was way too close. Jon had told her and Yana that
the toilets in the hole were flushed automatically by the guards every few hours. It smelled more like it was every few
weeks. But maybe some of that smell came from the other prisoners. Part of the punishment for the men kept in the
isolation area was no personal hygiene. No showers-not even splashing birdbaths in a sink-no toothbrush, no
deodorant, no hairbrush. Just you. Your little patch of cement. And the toilet.

I wish I had my watch, at least,
Rae thought. But Jon had made her hand it over before they started the tour. If she
had it, she knew she’d stop freaking. She could just sit here with the watch one inch away from her face and see the
minutes click by. And by fifteen or twenty clicks-thirty, absolute max-Jon would be here, letting her out.

“It has to have been at least five minutes,” Rae whispered. It felt like hours, but time didn’t work the same way
when you were sitting alone in the dark. That was why she needed her watch. So she’d be sure that time was
actually passing. So she’d be sure she wasn’t going to die down here.