"Don't give me those eyes. You will be back here for our senior year. Promise me."
"I can't promise that."
"No. Don't say you can't or you won't. Say I will be back for my senior year, Riley. I want to come back for my senior year."
"I want to come back for my senior year, Riley," I say.
And I mean it.
"Now, I think you should call that judge."
"I don't know his number."
"Lucky for you, I already looked it up." He takes my phone and enters a number.
"What am I going to say?"
Riley chuckles. "Tell him you took the oath of silence swore."
"This is crazy."
"Crazy is usually what works."
"You're right. Here goes nothing," I say as I hit send.
A receptionist answers and asks if she can help me.
"I'd like to speak to Judge Waters."
"I'm sorry, he's not available. May I take a message?"
"Um, can you just tell him my name is Keatyn and that I took the oath of silence swore. Would you write that part down, please? It's important."
"Uh, sure, Keatyn," she says, humoring me. "I'll tell him that you took the oath of silence swore."
I hear a deep voice say, "Silence swore?"
And the assistant goes, "Yes, sir."
Then the deep voice goes, "Transfer the call to my office. I'll take it in there."
The assistant comes back on the line and says, "Judge Waters just arrived and will speak to you now."
I'm put on hold, classical music playing in the background for a few moments until the deep voice says, "This is Judge Waters. Tell me the rest of it."
"The rest of the oath?"
"Yes."
"All who pass through Stockton's door, take an oath of silence swore. In this place of legend and lore, party on, friends, evermore."
"How can I help you, Keatyn?"
"I need a search warrant."
"Are you an attorney?"
"No, sir. I'll try to keep this brief. I'm a current Eastbrooke student. My mom is Abby Johnston, and I was sent to Eastbrooke this fall because a man tried to kidnap me. That man was questioned by the police on August twentieth and released for lack of evidence. Later, I remembered that during the kidnaping, he said he was taking me to a van out back. They found the van-a rental with millions of fingerprints-with duct tape and drugs in it, but nothing leading back to the man. The man is rich and good-looking."
"Who is it?"
"His name is Vincent Sharpe. He's been obsessed with my mom for years and owns a production company."
"Is he the guy doing the nationwide search for the next Abby Johnston?"
"Yes. He was trying to find me."
"I see. What's the search warrant for?"
"He kidnapped my boyfriend, Brooklyn Wright-well, ex-boyfriend, but Vincent doesn't know that. I pissed him off."
"How?"
"On Monday, at his board meeting, I announced that I was the new majority owner of his company and fired him. He threatened me. Told me that no one I loved was safe. Our family dog was taken yesterday morning and Brooklyn has been missing since around eight last night. Vincent video chatted with me on Brooklyn's computer. I made him prove that he'd taken Brooklyn; he turned the laptop around and showed me Brooklyn, tied up and lying motionless on a mattress. I have a screenshot of that, but nothing else. No proof that I spoke to him. We need to search his properties, but the judge turned us down for the warrant because we don't have any proof and, according to him, I'm not credible."
"Was the board meeting recorded?"
"Yes."
"I'd say you go at the warrant from that angle. Submit a copy of the recording of the board minutes along with written statements from at least two of the board members stating they heard him threaten you. State that Brooklyn has been missing and is presumed to have been kidnapped. Include the screenshot. Then, have the warrant request sent to me. Do you have a pen? I'll give you the fax number. We'll be waiting for it."
"Yes, sir," I say, taking down the number. "Thank you, sir."
"You're welcome. Anything else I can do for you?"
"Um, actually, there is. If they don't find Brooklyn soon, I'm going against the wishes of my security counselor."
"Who's that?"
"Smith Security."
"Garrett Smith is the best in the business."
"I know. But he wants me to hide, and I'm afraid one of my little sisters will be next. Vincent told me to come home. If they haven't found him by Saturday, I'm going home. If things don't go well-like, if I don't survive and he does . . . Please contact my family and help them put Vincent away for a very long time."
"You have my word." He gives me his private cell phone number. "If you come back to California, call me before you do anything."
"Okay."
I give Riley a high five. "You are brilliant!"
He grins. "That was too easy. I'm totally looking up everyone on the walls now. You never know when something like that could come in handy."
"Obviously."
I call Cooper.
"Where are you?" he asks. "Aiden was looking for you."
"I'm at the, uh, chapel with Riley."
"I'm on my way," he says.
"Wait a couple minutes. I need to call Garrett. I know how he can get the search warrant."
I call Garrett and give him all the info from the judge.
Then Riley and I rush back through the tunnel, into Stockton's, and upstairs.
Aiden and Cooper are waiting for us in the back of the chapel.
Cooper hands me a printout of a story about Vincent. Apparently, he's spoken to the press about the takeover. The article goes on to mention that he's seriously concerned about the company he founded in the hands of a seventeen-year-old. About how it's a disgrace to the industry.
I shake my head. "We need something that will bury this story. I don't want it to get legs."
"What kind of story would do that?"
Aiden smiles at me and points to my finger. I look at the four-leaf clover on it. "Ohmigawd, Aiden. You are brilliant!"
I call Mom, get her permission, and have her email me what I need.
A short time later, the news is out.
HOLY SHIT!! STOP THE PRESSES!!!!!.
THIS JUST IN!.
HELL HAS OFFICIALLY FROZEN OVER.
Keatyn Douglas, our new obsession, just emailed us.
One.
Single.
Beautiful.
Precious.
Photo.
(Okay, so her publicist probably sent it to every media outlet at the same time, but whatever.) And what a photo it is.
Keatyn, dressed in an adorable strapless pink Sherri Hill high-low dress and cowboy boots, standing up for her mother, Abby Johnston, wearing Versace at her wedding to one of the sexiest men alive, Tommy Stevens.
We'll give the ladies of the world a moment to mourn their loss.
Okay, we're back.
Here is the official press release: Abby Johnston and Tommy Stevens were married over the holiday in a small, surprise ceremony attended by the couple's family and closest friends.
And the real story: Long-time friend and multi-mega-hit director, Matthew Moran, loaded up a plane full of guests and took them to his mansion in the Italian countryside. Tommy proposed on Christmas Eve with a stunning sparkler hidden amongst his gifts to Abby, and the couple was married the following day in a lavish outdoor wedding. Guests later noshed on a Christmas Day feast where they toasted the happy couple.
P.S. Guess that sort of kills off the rumors of their imminent split.
P.P.S. Rumor has it Keatyn danced the night away with none other than Damian Moran, who has been writing love songs about her for years.
I'm lying in bed, trying to go to sleep. But I can't.
So, I do what I've been considering doing all day. I grab my computer and take it into the stairwell.
I hit the video conference icon and call Brooklyn, hoping that Vincent will answer.
I need to know that Brooklyn's still okay.
And to let Vincent know that I'm coming home.
He doesn't answer.
Vincent ignores Keatyn's call. He needs to make her come to him. And she will only do it if she feels there is no other way. He knows based off her begging him to come and get her, that she's probably being kept from him against her will. He also knows that eventually, she will come herself to find Brooklyn.
And since he has no idea where she is, that's exactly what he needs.
Friday is the longest day of my life.
I go through the motions, slogging from one class to the next.
I skip lunch, going to Cooper's office, instead.
"You look as tired as I feel," I tell him, noting his bleary eyes and the scruff he always shaves.
"So do you. I just got off the phone with Garrett. Still nothing."
"He's been planning this for a while. Are they checking basements and closets? For secret rooms, trap doors? On my birthday, he had to have somewhere he was taking me. He planned everything else out. Think about it. He wants to make a movie. There has to be a set somewhere."
"Garrett has brought in some of his top men to help with the search, Keatyn. These guys are all ex-special forces. They know how to find people who don't want to be found, if you know what I mean. And they're utilizing technology to scan the buildings for heat sources and using search and rescue dogs."
"Heat sources? Is that like in the movies? Where they can find people who are hiding by tracking their body temperature?"