With their pretty highlights and trendy mall clothes, they look more like California natives than me. Like every other day, the aggression and hatred in their eyes makes me shudder inside. The metallic din fades into the background. Their hostility becomes palpable, an invisible force that presses against my body and squeezes the air from my lungs.

They hated me from the very first time they saw me skate. Why? Is it my Goth clothes? Compared to my friends back home, I’m pretty tame. I don’t even have any tats. Black hair, combat boots, and a lip ring aren’t exactly unusual. Plenty of kids dress like me at school. But at the rink, pretty is as pretty does. I stand out like Frankenstein on the ice. I only made the novice skate team, so why do they want to get rid of me so badly?

I lift my chin and turn my eyes toward the third section, where three younger girls are closing their lockers and gathering equipment bags to leave. As I pass Regan and Autumn, my foot catches and I hurtle forward. My chin hits the concrete. My teeth snap together, sending an ear-ringing shaft of pain through my face and head. My duffel slides across the floor and hits the feet of one of the girls walking toward me.

“Hey, watch where you’re going, freak.” She kicks it away.

I look down. The corner of Regan’s bag sticks out into the aisle. She approaches me. “Oh my God. Are you all right?” Her voice is sickly sweet, and the evil slant to her lips sends her true message.

“I’m fine,” I mumble as I get to my feet. My chin burns where it scraped on the floor.

“Too bad you’re so clumsy.” She returns to Autumn and whispers something in her ear. Autumn’s shoulders shake as she laughs.

I give her a glare, then roll my eyes at her, but my attempt at pretending she doesn’t bother me isn’t fooling anyone. Humiliation heats my skin and stirs the orange juice in my stomach into a nasty, acidic combination. My face is hot. My skin is pale, so I know my cheeks are flaming red by the time I get to the empty alcove and claim a locker. The commotion draws girls out from their locker nooks. Half the kids are smirking. The other half look away and pretend not to notice. No one else wants to be Regan and Autumn’s next target. I don’t blame them. It sucks. Why should they stick up for me? They don’t even know me.

My eyes burn, but I will not cry.

Instead, I try to shrink, to blend into the gray metal lockers around me as I change into the black tights I wear for practice.

Regan and Autumn leave, heads bent together. They are talking about me, maybe laughing, maybe planning something awful for my future. I can tell. I can feel their animosity wafting through the air even after they’ve left the locker room. The other kids won’t even look at me. A girl walks by, listening to her iPod. The tinny sound of music leaks from her earbuds. I sit on the bench to lace my skates. Once I get out to the rink, I’ll be fine. The locker room is their main torture chamber. On the ice, Coach Victor is strict.

I don’t even want to skate anymore. I know that’s their ultimate goal, so I guess they’ve already won. With a deep breath I launch to my feet and walk out to the rink. Regan and Autumn are standing with their dads and Victor. They watch me with way too much interest as I leave my skate guards on the wall and start to warm up. My muscles loosen. A sense of freedom flows through me, as it does every time I lace up my skates.

“Get warmed up. I want to see you working on that double axel,” Victor shouts as I skate by.

I see Regan lean over and say something to Autumn. They laugh.

“If you want to make nationals next year, you don’t have time to worry about anyone else. Focus on your own routine.” Victor’s admonishment echoes across the ice.

I appreciate his support, but the reprimand will give them one more reason to hate me.

Chapter Nine

The sunlight gleamed on a fresh layer of snow. Ellie turned into the narrow alley that ran alongside the firm. Her tires grated on the inch of snow the plow left on top of the gravel. She emerged in the rear parking lot. Fresh powder clung to the budding branches of the mature oak at the rear of the plowed square. From a brilliant blue sky, sunlight glittered blindingly bright on whatever it touched.

If she hadn’t been worried about her family’s safety, the scene would have been lovely.

Ellie parked in the rear of the lot. Her heart drummed as she unlocked her doors and got out of the vehicle. She crossed the lot. On the rear stoop, she knocked snow from her boots and gave her surroundings a final scan before inserting her key into the door. She disengaged the alarm. With hesitant steps, she glanced into the break room-kitchen combo. Empty. Her ears strained for sound but she heard nothing except the rumble of the furnace and whoosh of hot air from the radiators.

All seemed normal, except that last night a man had threatened to kill her daughter.

Ellis changed her shoes and got to work, starting in Frank’s office.

With shaky fingers, Ellie slid the USB drive into the slot on his computer. The office was silent around her. At seven a.m., no one else had arrived yet. Roger would come in around eight, the rest of the employees shortly after. This might be her only chance to get a look at Frank’s computer files. Many of the attorneys worked late, but early hours were less common. But if anyone did come in early, she would say she was doing software updates. Without an in-house IT specialist, Roger preferred Ellie take care of the simple, routine tasks rather than pay for a computer tech. She was already on the payroll. Employees were accustomed to seeing her on their computers. Hopefully, Roger would support her, since he asked her to snoop. Not that she cared much about fraud at the moment.

Frank was the only person at the firm she could imagine had any reason to snag the Hamilton file. He was also the newest hire and had been in competition with Lee for partnership. Frank directly benefitted from Lee’s death. So she’d search his desk first.

On a tight timetable, she copied the hard drive of Frank’s desktop to the memory stick. The orange light blinked as the machine worked. She spun the chair to open the drawer in the credenza behind the desk and skim through the files. The crunch of tires on gravel outside startled her. Someone was here. She glanced at the clock. It was barely seven twenty. No one else ever came in the office this early. The flash drive’s blinking orange light taunted her.

Come on.

She closed the credenza. The orange light went dark. She shut down the computer and bolted for the kitchen. With shaking hands, she measured coffee into a filter. The noise outside must have been someone next door. It didn’t matter. She’d accomplished what she’d come in early to do. All she could do now was pray Frank’s computer skills weren’t adequate for him to know she’d copied his documents. She should have Roger’s support, but Frank would complain to the senior Peyton. In confrontations with his father, Roger got wishy-washy.

Was it possible that Frank had taken the file home? He’d moved into that office before she’d finished sorting Lee’s files. She could be searching the law offices in vain because Frank was holding the very file she needed. The file that would keep her family alive. Even worse, the file could be in Lee’s BMW. There’d been no report of the car turning up, but the thought that the information her extortionist wanted could be impossible to locate sent nausea roiling through her stomach.

What would she do if Hoodie Man came back and she didn’t have the file? And who was he?

She could rule out two people immediately. There was no way Grant would fit behind the seat of her van. She also eliminated Roger. He’d been in his office last night while Hoodie Man waited in Ellie’s vehicle. Hmm. On second thought, was it possible that her boss had gone out the front door and circled around to the parking lot? But why would her boss threaten her to get the file? He’d already asked her to find it for him.

Her head ached with too many unanswered questions. She filled the coffee pot and pressed On.

She glanced at the clock. She still had time to search the rest of the desks. Leaving the dripping coffee machine, she settled at one of the paralegals’ desks. While the computer copied files onto her flash drive, she silently opened and searched desks. A half hour later, Ellie had found nothing even remotely related to the Hamilton file.

“Ellie?” Roger’s voice snapped her out of her thoughts.

She snagged her memory stick and stuffed it into her jacket pocket. Smoothing her skirt, she emerged from the paralegal’s cubicle. Roger stood in front of her desk.

Smiling, she walked toward her boss. “Good morning.”

“You’re in early. What were you doing?”

“Software updates.”

“This early?” He raised a conspiratorial eyebrow. “Did you encounter anything interesting?”

“No, sorry.”

“Well, shit.” Frowning, he glanced at his watch. “I have a nine o’clock appointment. Have you made coffee?”

“Yes, I’ll fill a carafe.” Ellie hurried back to the kitchen and poured coffee into a thermal pot.

“Liar.” Frank startled her.

She dropped the coffee pot. Hot liquid splashed up her legs.

Frank jumped backward. The sloshing coffee barely missed his pants. “Are you all right?”

“Yes.” Miraculously, the pot hadn’t broken when it hit the vinyl floor, but coffee splattered her pantyhose and shoes. Burning patches on her shins jolted her into action. She stepped away, wet a paper towel with cold water, and pressed it against her shin. She cleaned off her shoes then tossed paper towels on the floor.