Aster held her breath.
“Is he gay?”
Aster closed her eyes. This was insane. When she opened them again, she looked directly into the camera and said, “This is bullshit. I demand you open this door right now and let me out of here. Or so help me God I will—”
“You will what exactly?” The voice laughed. “Save your empty threats. I’m in charge. You’re captive. I’ve shown you the way out. Now it’s up to you whether or not you decide to take it by answering the question. Is your little brother, Javen, gay?”
Aster closed her eyes and lowered her chin to her chest.
“We’re waiting. . . .”
Aster lifted her gaze, stared into the camera, and said, “No. No, he’s not.”
“Hmmmm . . . not sure that’s a correct answer,” the voice said. “Just to give your memory a nudge, I’m going to project two pictures onto the wall that only you can see. It’s up to you to decide which secret goes out into the world.”
Aster stared in dismay. One side of the wall featured a picture of Javen kissing a boy she recognized as his friend Dylan.
The other side showed a still from the video clip of Aster taking off her clothes and dancing seductively the night she went missing.
“You get to decide which one, but if you don’t answer in the next five seconds, then they’ll both be released.”
Superimposed over the pictures was the image of a countdown clock. Aster watched in grief as the numbers counted down from five . . . four . . . three . . . She closed her eyes.
Please forgive me. . . .
She opened them again, and said, “Me. Share the one of me.”
“You sure about that? Once it’s out, there’s no taking it back, and I can guarantee it’ll go viral.”
Aster nodded. Her throat clogged with tears, she was unable to speak.
“As you wish . . .”
The next thing she knew, the lights turned back on and the wall went blank.
FORTY-ONE
HEARTLESS
Someone was on the other side of the wall, in the next room. She could hear the faint echo of a voice raised in anger. Despite their obvious panic, it gave Layla hope. She wasn’t as alone as she felt.
“Hey, I’m here!” She s
houted the words as loud as she could. “Can you hear me?”
Out of nowhere a voice said, “Not only can I hear you, but I can see you as well.”
Layla spun around and searched for the source.
“Hello, Layla. I must say you look lovely tonight. Thanks for making the effort. You’ve come a long way from the girl who once wore knockoff shoes and rode a secondhand bike.”
“What do you want? Who are you?”
“You were always the most impatient. The most straightforward, and, I grudgingly admit, the smartest. But if you still don’t know who I am, then I guess you’re not as smart as I thought.”
Layla frowned. The voice was disguised in a way that made it impossible to tell if it was male or female. But the word choice leaned toward female, especially the part about knockoff shoes. Only a girl would use that as an insult. Then again, Ira might do so as well.
“I want you to play a little game with me. Please direct your attention to the wall directly in front of you.”