"Why?" she asks with a defensive tone that suggests she's feeling surprised by my change of subject.
"Because I want to know."
She doesn't answer right away. Her eyes dart toward the door again, and I can see her mind working, trying to figure out what game I'm playing. Finally, she speaks. "My sister's name is Lila. She's getting married on New Year's Eve. I'm supposed to be home helping with the wedding prep."
"And your parents?"
"My dad's a retired teacher. My mom runs a catering business." Her tongue slides across her perfect ruby lips and she grunts, "Why does any of this matter?"
"It matters because you need to understand what's at stake." I lean forward, resting my elbows on my knees as I hug both hands around the glass. "You're supposed to be home in Buffalo right now. Your family is expecting you. If you don't show up, they're going to start asking questions. They'll call the police. And when they do, things are going to get very complicated for all of us."
Riley's breath hitches. "So let me go. Let me leave, and I won't say anything. I'll tell them my car broke down and I had to get it towed. I'll make up a story. Just let me go."
"I can't do that."
"Why not?"
"Because you've seen too much. You know about the body. And once you walk out that door, there's no guarantee you'll keep your mouth shut."
"I will," she says quickly. "I swear. I won't tell anyone. I just wanna go home."
I shake my head slowly. "You don't understand, Riley. Men like me, we don't trust easily, and right now, I need to control things to make sure the outcome I desire is the outcome I receive." I finish the last drop and set the glass on the table between us, and she winces.
Her hands tighten on the bag again, and I can see the fear creeping back into her eyes. Good. Fear's useful. It keeps people from doing things they'll regret.
"Here's what's going to happen," I say, standing and walking over to the desk in the corner of the room. I pull open a drawer and take out a laptop, then carry it back to the couch and set itdown on the coffee table in front of her. "You're going to log into your email and send a message to your family telling them you'll be late getting home. Maybe a week or two…"
Riley scoots away like I'm holding a bomb, not a laptop. "No."
"Yes."
"I'm not lying to my family for you."
"You don't have a choice." I open the laptop and power it on, waiting as the screen loads. "If you don't send that message, your family's going to report you missing. The police will start looking for you. And when they do, things are going to get very messy. For you and for them."
Her jaw clenches. "You're threatening them again."
"I'm just stating facts." I turn the laptop toward her and watch the light of the browser shine on her face as I set it in front of her. The dark web makes it useful so her login can't be tracked back to my IP address. "Now log in."
I can see the conflict playing out on her face as she glares at the screen and her head keeps shaking. She wants to refuse and tell me to go to hell, but she's smart enough to know that won't end well for her.
"Riley," I say in a lower tone this time. "Don't make this harder than it needs to be."
I see it the moment the tension in her shoulders breaks. She sets the bag aside and reaches for the computer to log in. Her fingers glide over the screen easily and I watch her credentials appear in the dialogue boxes.
"Good," I say. "Now compose a new message. Send it to your sister."
"What do you want me to say?"
"Tell her you had car trouble and you'll be delayed a few days or a week, maybe more. Tell her not to worry."
Riley's hands hover over the keyboard. "She's not gonna believe me. I'd just call my mom for this. Not send an email."
"Make her believe you." My jaw is tight as I speak through gritted teeth because her hesitation is really starting to piss me off.
She swallows hard and starts typing. I move behind the couch so I can see the screen over her shoulder. Her message is short and to the point. She tells Lila that she had a flat tire and some engine trouble, that she had to take the car to a mechanic and it's going to take a few days to get it fixed. She says she'll be home as soon as she can and not to worry. Then she signs it with a heart emoji.
"Send it," I say.
