Scowling, I muttered, "Not exactly." No way was I going to tell him I'd been sent home for violating the school dress code. I'd been humiliated enough for one day.

"Just what were you doing there, anyway?" I demanded. "I mean, were you just going to stroll in and yank me out of class at gunpoint in front of everyone?"

"Certainly not," Marcus said, calmly.

What I was hoping was that somebody – anybody – had seen Marcus slug me and had taken down the license number of his expensive Euro-trash car. Any minute sirens might begin to wail behind us. The cops couldn't be afraid of a little rain – although to tell the truth, I don't remember CHiP's officers Ponch and Jon ever venturing out in a downpour....

Keep him talking, I told myself. If he's talking, he won't be able to concentrate on killing you.

"So what was the plan, then?"

"If you must know, I was going to go to the principal and inform him that Beaumont Industries was interested in sponsoring a student's tuition for the year, and that you were one of our finalists." Marcus picked some invisible lint off his trouser leg. "We would, of course, require a personal interview, after which we intended to take you – the candidate – to a celebratory lunch."

I rolled my eyes. The idea of me winning any kind of scholarship was laughable. This guy obviously hadn't seen my latest Geometry quiz scores.

"Father Dominic would never have let me go with you," I said. Especially, I thought, after I'd filled him in on what had gone on at chez Beaumont the night before.

"Oh, I think he might have. I was planning on making a sizable donation to his little mission."

I had to laugh at that one. This guy obviously didn't know Father D at all.

"I don't think so," I said. "And even if he did, don't you think he would mention how the last time he saw me, I was going off in a car with you? If the cops should happen to question him, you know, after I disappeared, that is."

Marcus said, "Oh, you're not going to disappear, Miss Simon."

This surprised me. "I'm not?" Then what was all this about?

"Oh, no," Marcus assured me, confidently. "There won't be the slightest question about what's happened to you. Your corpse is going to be found rather quickly, I imagine."

CHAPTER

18

This was so not what I wanted to hear, I can't even tell you.

"Look," I said, quickly. "I think you should know that I left a letter with a friend of mine. If anything happens to me, she's supposed to go to the cops and give it to them."

I smiled sunnily at him. Of course, it was all a big fat lie, but he didn't know that.

Or maybe he did.

"I don't think so," he said, politely.

I shrugged, pretending I didn't care. "Your funeral."

"You really," Marcus said, as I was busy straining my ears for sirens, "oughtn't to have tipped off the boy. That was your first mistake, you know."

Didn't I know it.

"Well," I said. "I thought he had a right to know what his own father was up to."

Marcus looked a little disappointed in me. "I didn't mean that," he said, and there was just a hint of contempt in his voice.

"What, then?" I opened my eyes as wide as they would go. Little Miss Innocent.

"I wasn't certain you knew about me, of course," Marcus went on, almost amiably. "Not until you tried to run back there, in front of the school. That, of course, was your second mistake. Your evident fear of me was a dead giveaway. Because then there was no question that you knew more than was good for you."

"Yeah, but look," I said, in my most reasonable voice. "What was it you said last night? Who's going to believe the word of a sixteen-year-old juvenile delinquent like myself over a big important businessman like you? I mean, please. You're friends with the governor, for crying out loud."

"And your mother," Marcus reminded me, "is a reporter with WCAL, as you pointed out."

Me and my big mouth.

The car, which had showed no signs of slowing down up until that point, started rounding a curve in the road. We were, I realized suddenly, on Seventeen Mile Drive.

I didn't even think about what I was doing. I just reached for the door handle, and the next thing I knew, a guardrail was looming at me, and rainwater and gravel were splashing up into my face.

But instead of rolling out of the car and up against that guardrail – below which I could see the roiling waves of the Restless Sea crashing against the boulders that rested at the bottom of the cliff we were on – I stayed where I was. That was because Marcus grabbed the back of my leather jacket and wouldn't let go.

"Not so fast," he said, trying to haul me back into the seat.

I wasn't giving up so easily, though. I twisted around – quite nimble in my Lycra skirt – and tried to slam my boot heel into his face. Unfortunately, Marcus's reflexes were as good as mine since he caught my foot and twisted it very painfully.

"Hey," I yelled. "That hurt!"

But Marcus just laughed and clocked me again.

Let me tell you, that didn't feel so swell. For a minute or so, I couldn't see too straight. It was during this moment that it took for my vision to adjust that Marcus closed the passenger door, which had continued to yawn open, stowed me back into my place, and buckled me safely in. When my eyeballs finally settled back into their sockets, I looked down, and saw that he was keeping a firm hold on me, primarily by clutching a handful of my sweater set.

"Hello," I said, feebly. "That's cashmere, you know."

Marcus said, "I will release you if you promise to be reasonable."

"I think it's perfectly reasonable," I said, "to try to escape from a guy like you."

Marcus didn't look very impressed by my sensible take on the matter.

"You can't possibly imagine that I'm going to let you go," he said. "I've got damage control to worry about. I mean, I can't have you going around telling people about my, er . . . unique problem-solving techniques."

"There's nothing very unique," I informed him, "about murder."

Marcus said, as if I hadn't spoken, "Historically, you understand, there have always been an ignorant few who have insisted upon standing in the way of progress. These are the people I was forced to …