Adam said nothing.
“She was supposed to oversee study hall during lunch break, but she asked me to cover for her. I did. I saw her run out to her car.”
“Where was she going?”
“I don’t know. She didn’t say.”
Silence.
“Did she come back to school?”
Kristin shook her head. “No, Adam, she never came back.”
Chapter 14
The stranger had given Heidi the link to FindYourSugarBaby.com as well as her daughter’s user ID and password. With a heavy heart, Heidi signed in as Kimberly and found out all she needed to confirm that everything the stranger had told her was true.
The stranger had not just told her out of the kindness (or emptiness) of his heart. He made money demands, of course. Ten grand was the amount. If she didn’t pay it in three days, the news of Kimberly’s “hobby” would go viral.
Heidi signed out and sat on the couch. She debated pouring herself a glass of wine and decided against it. Then Heidi had a good, long cry. When she finished, she headed to the bathroom, washed her face, and sat back on the couch.
Okay, she thought, what do I do about this?
Heidi’s first decision was almost the simplest: Don’t tell Marty. She didn’t like to keep secrets from her husband, but then again, she didn’t hate it either. It was part of life, wasn’t it? Marty would absolutely lose it if he found out what his little girl was up to while she was supposedly studying at NYU. Marty was prone to overreaction, and Heidi could see him hopping in his car, driving to Manhattan, and dragging his daughter back by the hair.
Marty didn’t need to know the truth. Come to think of it, neither did Heidi.
Damn those two strangers.
When Kimberly was in high school, she had gotten drunk at a party at a classmate’s house. Intoxication led, as it often does, to going a little too far with a boy. Not all the way. But too far. Another mother in town, a busybody who meant well, had overheard her daughter talking about the incident. She had called Heidi and said, “I hate to tell you this, but if our roles were reversed, I would want to know.”
So she told Heidi about the incident. Heidi had told Marty, who had completely overreacted. The relationship between father and daughter had never really been the same. What, Heidi wondered, would have been the outcome if that busybody had never called? In the end, what good had it done? It embarrassed her daughter. It strained the relationship between father and daughter. It had, Heidi believed, been a huge part of Kimberly’s decision to go to college so far away. And maybe that stupid phone call from that stupid busybody had even led Kimberly and ultimately Heidi to this terrible website and the horrific nature of her daughter’s relationship with three different men.
Heidi didn’t want to believe it, but the evidence was right there in the “secret” communications between her young daughter and these older men. Dress it up all she wanted, but there was no way around the fact that her daughter was involved in straight-up prostitution.
She wanted to cry again. She wanted to do nothing and forget those two calm strangers had ever said anything to her. But she had no choice now, did she? The secret had been thrust in her face. She couldn’t put that horse back in the barn, to mix her metaphors. It was a parental paradox probably as old as time: She didn’t want to know, but she did want to know.
When she called her daughter’s cell phone, Kimberly had answered with breathless enthusiasm. “Hi, Mom.”
“Hey, sweetheart.”
“Everything okay? Your voice sounds funny.”
At first Kimberly had denied it. That was to be expected. Then she tried to make it sound innocent. That, too, was to be expected. Then Kimberly tried defiance, accusing her mother of hacking into her account and invading her privacy. Again expected.
Heidi kept her voice steady, even as her heart cracked in her chest and filled it with pain. She explained to Kimberly about the stranger. She recounted what they had told her and what she had seen on her own. Patiently. Calmly. At least, on the outside.
It took some time, but they both knew where this conversation was headed. Cornered, the shock slowly wearing off, Kimberly started to open up. Money was tight, she explained.
“You can’t believe how expensive everything is here.”
A classmate had told Kimberly about the site. You didn’t really have to do anything with the guys, she’d been told. They just wanted young girls for the company. Heidi almost laughed out loud at that one. Men, as Heidi knew all too well and Kimberly quickly learned, never really just wanted company. That was merely the loss leader to get you in the store.
Heidi and Kimberly talked for two hours. At the end of the conversation, Kimberly asked her mother what she should do.
“Break it off with them. Today. Now.”
Kimberly promised she would do just that. The next question was how to proceed. Heidi said she would take some time off and come up and spend some time in New York. Kimberly balked.
“The semester will be over in two weeks. Let’s just wait till then.”
Heidi didn’t like that idea. In the end, they agreed to discuss it further in the morning. Before they hung up, Kimberly said, “Mom?”
“Yes?”
“Please don’t tell Dad.”
Already decided, but she didn’t tell Kimberly that. When Marty came home, she said nothing. Marty cooked up burgers on the grill in the yard. Heidi poured them both drinks. He talked about his day. She talked about hers. The secret was there, of course. It sat at the kitchen table in Kimberly’s old chair, never speaking but never budging, either.
In the morning, after Marty left for work, there was a knock on the door.
“Who is it?”
“Mrs. Dann? I’m Detective John Kuntz with the New York Police Department. May I speak with you for—”
Heidi threw open the door, nearly collapsing in the process. “Oh my God, my daughter . . . ?”
“Oh, she’s fine, ma’am,” Kuntz said quickly, stepping forward to help support her. “Wow, jeez, I’m sorry. I guess I should have told you that right away. I’m just imagining—your daughter is in school in New York and an NYPD officer shows up at your door.” Kuntz shook his head. “I have kids too. I get it. But don’t worry, Kimberly is fine. I mean, healthwise. There are other factors . . .”
“Factors?”
Kuntz smiled. There was a little too much space between each tooth. He sported a terrible comb-over, the kind of thing that made you want to grab a pair of scissors, pull the few hairs taut, and snip them off. She placed him in his midforties, paunchy with stooped shoulders and the sunken eyes of someone who didn’t eat well or get enough sleep.