Chapter 9: Sleepwalking

"Then tell them," I said.

Abel's grin faltered.

"Tell Byron. Tell Denton. Show Tucker whatever you want, Abel."

My voice was shaking, and I made it stop.

"But you'll be telling three men that the girl you filmed in her sleep was awake. Think about who they hit first."

I walked out of the boathouse into the sun.

I did not run.

By one o'clock Byron had called Abel into the study and shut the door.

By two, Abel's truck was gone down the drive in a spray of gravel.

Byron came out looking grey.

"He's gone back to the city," he said. "He won't be at the lake again."

"Okay."

He studied my face. "Did he say anything to you?"

"No."

It was the first lie I had ever told him that I could feel in my teeth.

He nodded, slowly, and went to wash his hands.

I spent the rest of the day in a kind of fever.

Abel had my secret.

Sooner or later he would use it.

Then the men would learn I had lain there for three weeks letting them touch me.

I could not stand it.

If it was going to be known, it would be known on my terms.

So that night, when the house went still, I got out of bed.

It was 2:10 by the green numbers on my clock.

I did not put on a robe.

I walked down the hall with my eyes half open and my hands loose at my sides, slow and heavy.

I had seen Denton go into the second guest room at midnight.

Byron's door across from mine was shut.

I pushed Denton's door open with two fingers and stood in the doorway.

He was lying on top of the covers in the moonlight, reading, with his glasses on.

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