It was the first time since I met her that I had the drop on her. So I told her she couldn't go, you had to be a writer, it was out of the question. S...e said it was probably nothing but a collection of pot-bellied old men working out their frustrations by writing stories for the Internet. I said she was just jealous. She said she couldn't be bothered with such a collection of perverts. I said good, I'd have more fun without her. She hung up. Then I realized I'd backed myself into a hole--I had. Instead, she peeked around the edge of the door.Empty.But there was another door on the other side of the office that went to the locker room. She tiptoed to that door and peered into the locker room. She stifled a gasp, for there, on a bench, was Connie Simmons, the head cheerleader, and she was naked as could be! She was lying back on the bench, with her legs spread wide, and feet on the floor.But what was making it hard for Cathy to breathe was that Coach Farmington, equally nude, was also. I decided to send another text. "I'm here.", I typed. It was a standard motel--not good, but not trashy. When my phone vibrated and the room number popped up, my stomach dropped. This was it. Do I follow through and risk it being a trap or do I call it a night and be proud I made it this far?I remembered the picture of the girl. She was petite with long, black hair, pale skin, and small breasts. Exactly my type. The photo had a clean room and she even smiled in the picture. I imagined walking. She contemplated simply leaving Derrick, forgoing the snooping and spying. But then the memory of that rock on the blonde girl’s left hand convinced her otherwise. This wasn’t only about Gabby anymore, that poor girl looked over the moon for Derrick. “I can’t let him do this to her as well. I can’t let him get away with this.” Gabby concluded.Jacob sent her a text shortly before lunch asking her to meet him at the same Italian place. He’d already made a break in the case and wanted to keep her.