This is a pretty quick update- only took me two nights to write. Basically I wanted to answer whatever questions were raised by the last chapter in the best way I could. So here, Mich goes looking for answers and finds more than she thought.

Thanks to Antikreativ, Tineyboppa, and AmaryllisBloom for your encouraging and thoughtful reviews.

No song for this chapter because my collection is on my computer which is getting fixed. I'm open to suggestions, though.

The news of Esme's second attempted abduction spread around the school like a wildfire in those few days before the weekend. Once again she was the center of attention, surrounded by sympathizers and gossipers alike every lunchtime as she told of her harrowing escape from the clutches of the evil men- seriously, I had heard it described like that. It was true, though, and that was the worst part. Esme had been through an ordeal, to say the least, and people were lapping it up like entertainment.

It was said that police had no idea who to suspect. Neither Esme nor the courageous boy who had been with her had seen any identifying features on the would-be kidnappers, for they had been well-covered. That, I was grateful for- at least Quasi was safe for now. The trail was cold. No one had seen anything, no one knew anything, security camera footage wasn't very helpful, and the police had no idea what to do.

If they only knew that the guilty one was one of their own...

As for me, the more I thought about it, the more confused I was. Why was Frollo so obsessed with Esme? Was there a particular reason? I mean, sure, he was yellow-eye and she was Asian, so obviously he wouldn't like her, but she wasn't the only Asian person in the world. So what was it about her that made him try to do unspeakable things? And, an even better question, how did he even know her? There was obviously a lot more going on than I realized, and I wanted to find out what.

So, for the first time since I had stood up to her the day everything had changed, I decided to talk to Esme.

I didn't want to go right up to her while she was surrounded by people, so I waited until the end of lunch, when I knew she would be in the toilets, primping. What I wasn't expecting to see was her, the brave, beautiful Esme Azarola, bent over the sink and sobbing her heart out.

Not in all the breakups I had seen her go through nor in the toppling of her so-called reign or terror had I ever seen 'the fox' this vulnerable and... broken. In the 11 years I had known her, I had never seen her shed a single tear. And yet here she was, shoulders shaking and tears making black tracks down her cheeks. It was an equally unnerving and heartbreaking sight.

And I realized that I had to do something about it.

I approached her, my footfalls too quiet to hear even in the echoing bathroom, and laid a hesitating hand on her back, holding my breath as I waited for her to spin around and shove me away. It didn't happen. She continued to cry as I rubbed her back awkwardly, wondering at the strangeness of the situation. A few months ago I would never have seen myself standing in a bathroom comforting a crying Esme. Heck, yesterday it wouldn't have even crossed my mind. I was supposed to hate this girl, this bully who had ruined so many lives and was feared by so many people, not sympathize with her. But so many things had happened since then that nothing was black and white anymore. And here I was.

"I'm sorry," I whispered, continuing to rub her back as her sobs began to get softer. "I'm so sorry for what happened."

I'm not sure how long I stood there, trying to offer some kind of comfort to the person I used to hate so intensely, but eventually she stopped crying altogether and gave one shuddering sigh, still bent over and gripping the sides of the sink as if she was going to collapse at any moment. I stopped rubbing and stepped away, unsure of what to do now, and shoved my hands in my pockets for lack of anything better to do with them.

"A-are you OK now?" I asked timidly as she stood there with her hair in her face and just breathed for a moment.

She nodded and straightened up, pulling her hair out of her face, and grabbed some paper towels from the dispenser. Running them under the water, she began to dab at her face, trying to wash off the sticky black marks that were the remains of her tears. "I'm fine, I just needed a moment. This whole kidnapping thing has been kinda intense, you know?"

I nodded. "I know."

At the sound of my voice she stiffened and slowly turned her head to look at me, as if she only just realized that I was there. Her eyes, though still watery and red, glared at me in shock and anger. "You."

Her voice was low with fury and mixed with horror. I blinked, wondering who she thought I was at first. "Hi..." I gave a sheepish wave, hoping she wasn't going to attack me.

To my surprise and eternal relief, she just sighed and turned away. "Figures."

"What?"

"That you of all people would be the one to see me like this. Go on then."

"What?" I repeated stupidly.

She sniffed and wiped away the last of the mascara tracks. "Go and tell everyone that you found me crying and that I'm a wimp and a failure as a person. I suppose its only fair."

"Why would I do that?"

"Cuz you hate me. Why else would you follow me here and watch me cry?"

"Well, I actually wanted to talk to you, but if you're not feeling well..."

She narrowed her damp, smudged eyes. "You're not here to get revenge?"

"No." I smiled. "Not today, anyway. For now, I just wanna talk."

"Oh. Ok." She reached into the handbag that was permanently attached to her side and pulled out a makeup case. "Go ahead."

"I'm just curious about these... ah... attempted abductions," I started, trying to word it in a way that wouldn't make her suspicious. "Why are they happening? Do have any idea who it is?"

"I don't know!" she snapped, carefully reapplying her makeup. "All I know is that both times two guys tried to grab me and shove me in a car. I don't know who, I don't know why. And now my parents have grounded me, so it won't be happening again."

"But do you know anyone who might've-"

"No." She paused, frowning. "Well, there is this ugly old guy who I see pretty much every night I work. He creeps me out, the perv. Stares at my boobs all night."

"Well, you should be used to that, I mean, you are a dancer-" I stopped, wincing as her angry eyes raked over me.

"How-?"

"Its kind-of common knowledge. Pretty much everyone knows what you do. Well, its a rumor, anyway."

She swore, accidentally jerking her hand and brushing mascara over her cheek. Suddenly furious, she threw the tube down at the bag, missing and scattering her various products across the bathroom floor.

"Are you OK?" I asked anxiously as she balled her hands into fists.

She turned to me, giving me the look of death. Suddenly, she wasn't Esme the sad and broken anymore. Esme the evil ice queen was rearing her ugly head again. "What right do people have to talk about my life? How dare they spread rumors about me? And you, little miss innocent, you trying to get me to talk about it so you can tell everyone and have a good old laugh at the pathetic attention seeker. You know what? My life was perfect before you came along. Now everyone's talking about how slutty and attention-seeking I am and how I just made up the kidnapping stories to get people to feel sorry for me." She shoved me unexpectedly and I crashed into the hard tile wall, finally afraid. She shoved me a few more times, yelling now. "Get away from me you ugly bitch. God, I hate your face so much. Go away. Just go. But watch your back."

I took the opportunity to escape before she could shove me again, and I ran all the way to class, wondering what the hell had just happened.

The next lunchtime, I decided to go to a higher source for answers. I hadn't really gotten anything out of Esme besides confusion and the well established fact that she hated me, so I was just as hopeless as before in that respect. The 'ugly old dude' who stared at her boobs and insulted her could possibly be Frollo. It would make sense, given the things he had called her. But that only meant that he both perved on her and hated her. Why would he try to kidnap her? What was I missing?

There was only one person who could know enough about him to tell me what I needed to know. That lunchtime I told Quasi I couldn't practice with him and instead borrowed Dez's phone and removed myself to the back oval, under the trees and away from prying eyes. Then I called Johanna du Moulin.

After the formalities, I got right to my subject. "Have you heard about the attempted abductions at the Park Ridge Tavern?"

"Yes, one happened recently. No one knew who it was. Why?"

"It was Frollo."

"Oh." She paused, letting this sudden news sink in. "How do you know?"

"I was there when he recruited Quasi to help him. He was the one who did it last time, too. I didn't want to tell anyone because I have no proof, but I just wanted to ask you why he would do something like that. You, of all people, should know him well enough to come to a conclusion about it."

"We-ell..." She sounded extremely hesitant to tell me anything. I rolled my eyes, resisting the urge to sigh impatiently. I was 16, not 6, and a part of everything whether she liked it or not. There could no secrets anymore. "What do you know so far?"

"Frollo scared Quasi into helping him. They tried to abduct a girl at my school who works there as a dancer. Twice. He hates Asians and her especially, cuz she was telling me about his behavior when she's working there and he called her a 'skanky slope' once, but he also pervs on her whenever he can. So I want to know- why would he go so far as to kidnap her?"

Johanna sighed in my ear, and I could just picture her rubbing her temples as she tried to decide what to tell me. "You're not going to let up on me until I tell you everything, are you?

"No."

"OK, fine, but you have to promise that anything I tell you will remain between us. Not one word is to be repeated to anybody. You got that?"

"Of course."

"Ay-yi-yi..." She sighed again. "Claude has mental problems, Michigan. Always has. He was officially diagnosed with bi-polar disorder and mild skizophrenia when he was younger, but the medication usually masked it. I don't know what happened. Honestly I don't know how he got into the police force with mental issues and an attempted rape charge, but I suppose one of his 'friends'," I could hear the quote marks in her voice, "helped forge some documents or something-"

My eyes widened. "Whoa, wait up. A what charge?"

"Attempted rape. Years ago, before he joined the force- we're going back about 20 years, give or take- he got caught trying to... you know... a younger woman. God, she couldn't have been more than your age. He always had a thing for younger women, and that time he took it way too far. This time was probably the same."

I covered my face with my hand, trying to process what I'd just been told. Quasi's dad was a crazy criminal pedophile playing the part of a policeman. God, what a mess! And he was abusing his son on top of it. I needed that evidence that I had sworn to get more than I realized. I had to get Quasi out of there as soon as possible.

"Michigan? Are you there?"

I blew the air out of my cheeks and closed my eyes, mind working like crazy to find a way to help. "Yeah, sorry, its just a lot to take in. How do you know so much about him anyway?"

"We're cousins."

I sat up quickly, choking on my own saliva. "What?!"

"Claude Frollo and I are cousins. I'm not proud of that fact. But that's why I'm so informed. I'm family."

"Well that's... unexpected."

"I know. We don't look very alike, thank god. But that's everything. Is that all you wanted to know?"

"Yeah, I think so." It made perfect sense now. Put together a mental pedophile and some frankly gorgeous jailbait, and what did you get? Exactly what had happened. "This is heavy stuff."

"I know." She sounded grim. "Have you thought much about my request?"

"You mean to testify? I don't know. I might be able to do something else, though. Just give me some time. I'm working on it."

"Alright. Thank you for calling, but I have to get back to work."

"Oh, right. See you later."

"Call me again when you've made a decision."

"I will." I ended the call and sat back against the tree, not knowing what to do next. My questions had pretty much been answered. Now I needed to figure out a way to get proof of Frollo's abuse so that I could get Quasi out of there. Bruises were easy to explain away. Witness accounts were good, but only if believed, and for some reason this was not inclined to be believed. Frollo probably had some connections high up in the system- after all, someone had helped him with his criminal and mental health records. What then? I groaned, frustrated. It wasn't as easy as videoing it- there was no way I could do that.

Was there?

I sat up suddenly, an idea forming. It would need precise timing and proper organization, but it just might be possible...

I began to plan.

What might Mich have in mind?

Hope this chapter made sense. I dont have everything planned out so sometimes things get a little wonky :)

Review and tell me what you thought.