“The worst,” Kerri said, “were the ones who couldn’t stop saying how sorry they were, like I was pathetic and needed their sympathy.”

  “Yes! I swear, I hope I never catch myself doing that.” Sue’s expression turned sad. “I am sorry, though, about your divorce.”

  They laughed together; then Sue sipped her coffee.

  “I’m not here about the reunion,” Kerri admitted.

  “I know. It’s too early. I just said that so Gwen wouldn’t think the police were investigating me.”

  “I didn’t think of that,” Kerri said. “I don’t want to cause any trouble for you.”

  Sue waved a hand. “I adore the woman, but she does love to gossip.”

  “I wanted to ask you about what happened with those two students who attempted suicide last fall.”

  Sue’s eyes rounded. “Are they reopening the case?” She leaned forward. “I always thought there was more to the story, but no one wanted the ugly details to end up on the news.”

  “I’m not aware of the case being reopened,” Kerri clarified. “It’s more about one of the students who was involved.”

  Sue glanced around the room and then toward the door. “The two who did the suicide pact seem to be fine now. No one talks about it. There was some chatter at first, but Mr. Billings didn’t budge on the matter. If a student was caught discussing it, there were consequences. I’ve never seen an incident locked down and closed into a dark room so fast. Really, I think the kids understood.” She shrugged. “The school has doubled the number of counselors on staff. Every effort is being made not to miss anything like that again. I believe Mr. Billings took it personally that it happened on his watch, you know? Like he’d failed the kids somehow.”

  “I can see how he might feel that way. I always feel as if I failed somehow if I can’t close a case the way I believe it should go,” Kerri said. “I’m glad to hear the students involved are doing better. But what about the other student, the one who transferred to a different school?”

  “Alice Cortez.” Sue nodded. “Now there’s a story.”

  Kerri’s instincts sharpened. “Do you think she was involved somehow? I’m sure you saw her in the library from time to time.”

  “Oh, I saw her all right. By the time the incident happened, she was the star pupil here at Walker. The two girls who tried to hurt themselves once held that place. Two of our brightest shining stars. It’s a terrible thing to say.” Sue sighed. “But it’s like Alice arrived and decided she wanted to be those girls, and it happened.”

  “Do you believe she took steps to make that happen?” The two students who had attempted to take their lives were both in the same grade as Tori. If they were as bright as Sue had suggested, how had they been taken down so low?

  “That’s the truly bizarre part. Alice was nice to everyone. Everyone loved her.” Sue leaned forward again. “The rumor was that she lured the girls into some secret club, but I can’t be sure. The one student who mentioned this idea to me begged me never to tell. She was afraid, and I don’t blame her.”

  Rather than demand the student’s name as she so wanted, Kerri said, “It’s a miracle she told anyone.”

  “You know, I’m like a bartender; I hear all sorts of things from the kids. But this was a little more bizarre than usual. This student,” she said with a pointed look at Kerri, “said she and Alice, along with the two girls from the incident, would meet in the woods after school and do these strange rituals.”

  “The two students involved in the suicide attempts,” Kerri ventured, restraining her need to reach across the table and shake more information out of the woman, “never mentioned any of this?”

  “Not a word.” Sue moistened her lips and shot another glance at the door. “When it was clear they weren’t going to tell, I told the girl who came to me that we couldn’t not share this with Mr. Billings. It had to be done.”

  “But you didn’t tell him the girl’s name.” Kerri held her breath.

  “No, I couldn’t break her confidence. We put our heads together and found another way. I used the book Alice had checked out of the library to back up my concerns.”

  Kerri stilled. Book? “Will you tell me about the book?”

  Sue inhaled a deep breath. “It was a book about Santeria. It’s a religion, cult—whichever you prefer to call it—that originated in West Africa and eventually spread through Latin America. Like any other religion, some take it to extremes with rituals and animal sacrifices. Alice seemed to be obsessed with the darker side of Santeria.”

  Something cold crept through Kerri. “Obsessed in what way?”

  “I can’t show you because I gave the book to Billings when I spoke to him, but Alice had made notes and drawn images in the book. I don’t think she intended to return it, but the girl who came to me took it from her locker after what happened as a sort of insurance policy to protect herself. When she finally came to me, she’d been holding on to it for a while.”

  “Can you describe some of the drawings or recall any of the notes?” Kerri’s heart was thundering now. Why had Billings not come forward with this information? There was nothing in the news reports Kerri had reviewed online about a third student or any bizarre rituals.

  “Most of it made no sense. There were statements about cleansing and ruling. Apparently, she considered herself some sort of princess. A lot of it was gibberish.”

  Tori’s words, one in particular, echoed in Kerri’s brain. Princess. “And the drawings?”

  “Stick people hanging from ropes. Piles of stick people on fire. The images were quite disturbing considering what happened.”

  “Did Mr. Billings give this book to the police?” As the head of the school, he had an obligation. Jesus Christ, as a human being, he had an obligation. Kerri swallowed back the choke of outrage.

  “I don’t think he did. He told me not to discuss the book or Alice with anyone, that he would handle it. He insisted Alice probably watched too many horror movies. He said he would speak to her guardians about it as well. But I’m convinced he never went to the police. Think about it; one of the girls set her room on fire, and the other hanged herself. The only thing that saved either of them was that someone found them in time. The girl who hanged herself used the ceiling fan in her room and it broke, hit her on the head, and knocked her out cold. Her mother found her before she regained consciousness.” Sue searched Kerri’s face. “I don’t think what they did and those drawings were a coincidence.”

  Kerri didn’t either. “Sue, I need to speak to the other girl.” If she attempted to talk to one of the two involved in the suicide attempts, Sykes and Peterson would be on her so fast her head would spin. But if they didn’t know about this third girl . . .

  Sue didn’t respond for a bit. Finally, she asked, “Can you tell me why? The students involved survived. If the police aren’t reopening the case, what’s the point? I’ve kept this child’s secret all this time.” She shrugged. “In all honesty, partly, I suppose, because I understood my job likely depended on it.”

  “The Cortez girl, Alice,” Kerri said, her gut in knots, “goes to school with my daughter. She’s friends with my daughter.”

  “Oh my God.” Sue’s hand went to her mouth. “Did she have something to do with the girl who fell? The one who just died?”

  Kerri had to be careful here. “It’s possible. The trouble is I need to know for sure.” She frowned then. “No one from the BPD has been here about what happened?”

  Sue’s hand fell back to the table. “Two detectives talked to Mr. Billings. At least I heard they did, but no one has mentioned anything about Alice being involved in what happened at Brighton. I had no idea she had transferred there.” Sue shook her head, her face growing pale. “The girl that died . . . this could be my fault. I should have gone to the police myself.”

  “No, no, this wasn’t your fault,” Kerri argued, though she wasn’t entirely convinced. “First, we don’t know yet exactly what happened with the Myers girl. And warning Brighton when Alice transferred there was Billings’s job, not yours. Just as going to the police was.”

  Sue chewed her lip a moment. “Let me talk to her and see if she’s willing.” She put her hand to her chest. “Don’t worry; if she won’t talk to you, I’ll tell whoever I need to everything I suspected about Alice and the book. I can’t pretend anymore that it doesn’t matter.”

  “Let’s not jump the gun here,” Kerri countered. What Sue had was a serious accusation, but she didn’t have any proof unless Billings was willing to hand over the book—assuming it was still in his possession. “Talk to the girl,” Kerri suggested, “see if she’s willing to come forward. If not, we’ll go from there.”

  Sue nodded. “All right. I’ll do that today and call you no later than tomorrow morning. I’ll need your number.” She blushed. “I’m sorry we haven’t really kept in touch. Life.” She shrugged. “It’s a little busy most of the time.”

  “No kidding.” Kerri reached into her pocket and withdrew a business card. She passed it to Sue. “There’s just one thing.” God, she hated to do this part. At her old schoolmate’s expectant look, she went on. “I’m going to need you to keep my visit here to yourself for now. I’m not the detective assigned to the case. Technically, with my daughter in school with Cortez, I’m not supposed to get involved.”

  “I may not be a mother, biologically,” Sue said, “but I know what a good one is. What kind of mother would you be if you didn’t get involved?”

  Good question.

  17

  Noon

  Brighton Academy

  Seventh Avenue

  Birmingham

  They were talking about her.

  Tori stared at her lunch tray. She couldn’t eat. She’d barely slept last night. This morning when her mother asked if she was okay, she’d lied and said she was. She wasn’t. How could she be?

  Brendal was dead.

  Her mom had wanted her to stay with Aunt Diana today. She had assured Tori again that she and the other detectives would get this straightened out. Not to worry. But Tori couldn’t stop worrying. She’d known that if she didn’t show up at school, the ones talking about her would make something even worse of it. She couldn’t give them any more ammunition.

  She had to be strong.

  An assembly had been called this morning to announce the news. Like there was anyone who didn’t know.

  Everyone knew.

  And everyone thought Tori had something to do with it.

  Without daring to raise her head, she stole another glance at Sarah and Alice. They were huddled together, whispering. Tori knew they were talking about her. Otherwise they would have sat at her table. She and Sarah had been besties since kindergarten. She always sat with Tori. Always.

  Tori was certain Sarah and Alice had seen her when they headed this way from the lunch line, but they’d pretended not to. They’d sat at a table with the two meganerds who never sat with anyone much less talked to anyone. The nerds were at one end of the long table, while Sarah and Alice were at the other.

  Two of the extra counselors the school had brought in were walking around the cafeteria, asking kids if they wanted or needed to talk.

  Tori couldn’t talk to them. She couldn’t talk to anyone. Not her mom. Not anyone. Not about her secret. She couldn’t do it.

  But Alice had plenty to say—to Sarah.

  And Alice knew. She’d sworn Sarah did too.

  They glanced at Tori, not even attempting to hide the fact that they were doing just that—talking about her. How could they be so mean?

  Tori stared at the food she couldn’t eat if her life depended upon it. She wished Amelia were still alive. Tori could talk to her. She could tell Amelia anything. She missed her so much.

  Her whole life had fallen apart in the past year. First her dad left her for a new family. He hardly ever even called anymore. When Tori called him, he was always too busy to talk more than a minute or two. He had a new child now, a three-month-old baby boy. He had no time for Tori. She instantly felt bad. Her dad had called her last night and talked for a whole hour. He missed her. Was worried about her and wanted her to visit as soon as school was out. He was trying. That was what her mom said. But it hadn’t felt that way for a long time, especially last year.

  Worse, Amelia had gotten murdered. Even after that her mom still worked all the time. Tori didn’t really like spending a lot of time at Aunt Diana’s. She loved her aunt, but she was always so sad.

  On top of all that, this year Tori had started to get pimples instead of bigger boobs. No one took a second look at her. People were looking at her now because they were all suspicious of her about what happened to poor Brendal.

  And now she was losing her best friend.

  As if all that wasn’t bad enough, she’d failed her algebra test this morning. She had never failed a test in her whole life. She was an A student! Always on the honor roll. But not this time.

  She’d failed that test.

  Tori pushed her tray away. She couldn’t look at the food anymore. Couldn’t stand the smell.

  She had never felt so alone.

  Why did she even bother being nice to people? Working so hard to make good grades?

  She was a loser. An ugly, too skinny, pimple-faced loser.

  She’d asked Alice what she thought of her outfit the other day, and Alice hadn’t wanted to answer her. Finally, she’d admitted that the outfit didn’t look right on Tori because she was too thin. She needed to fix her hair and wear makeup.

  Tori was sorry she’d asked.

  She was sorry about a lot of things. Most of all for being nice to Alice.

  She wished Alice had never come to her school.

  Tori scanned the crowded lunchroom. At every table there was someone staring at her. Alice and Sarah were still whispering about her. She didn’t have to hear them. She could see the way they glanced at her, and they didn’t care that she could see.

  She wanted to go home.

  Anywhere but here.

  Would anyone besides her mom even miss her if she disappeared? Or died like Brendal?

  Probably not.

  Life sucked.

  Tori closed her eyes and reminded herself of her father’s phone call. Her mom loved her even if she wasn’t home as much as Tori would like. Falco liked her a lot too. Aunt Diana and Uncle Robby, even the twins loved her.

  She had to stop feeling sorry for herself and just be strong.

  Her mom would find the truth. Tori knew she would.

  She just hoped it wouldn’t be too late.

  18

  12:45 p.m.

  McGill Town House

  Hampton Heights Drive

  Birmingham

  Sadie checked the street again before emerging from her car. She’d parked at the far end of the unit of town houses and on the opposite side of the street. There were no security cameras unless a resident had installed one, but Tara McGill had not. The neighborhood was quiet, just as it had been late last night and early this morning. Sadie watched for afternoon dog walkers as she strolled leisurely along the sidewalk. Walking too fast would draw attention. She made it a point not to look around. People also considered that behavior as suspicious.

  McGill had still been asleep when Sadie left, but she’d mentioned having to go to work early today for preparing a supply order and another interview with Falco—one where they would have the place alone. The woman liked Falco. Sadie smirked as she unlocked the door to McGill’s town house with the key she’d had made. Falco better watch himself; McGill was a maniac. Since she’d said she had to be at Leo’s by one, Sadie had arrived at twelve thirty and watched until she left. Then she’d waited a few minutes more to ensure she wouldn’t come back. By twelve forty-five she’d felt confident McGill was gone for the rest of the afternoon and evening.

  Inside the living room a staircase to the second level stood on the far-right side. A kitchen, dining room, and powder room were along the back of the first floor. Two bedrooms, two baths, and a laundry closet were upstairs. McGill had a home office set up in the second bedroom. Starting there would get the more complicated steps out of the way.

  Sadie took the stairs. She checked McGill’s bedroom, noted the unmade bed and clothes strewn around the room. The lady was not exactly a neat freak. Not judging. Sadie was the same.

  In the bedroom turned office, the computer and printer sat on the small, cheap desk. An old dresser sat where one would expect a file cabinet. Shelves had been added to the closet for storage. Christmas decorations and more shoes. A couple of high school yearbooks and photo albums. Sadie opened the storage container and sifted through the decorations. She checked the insides of the shoes lining the floor. Then flipped through the yearbooks and photo albums. No hidden papers, no secretive notes.

  Saving the desk for last, she prowled through and under the drawers of the dresser. She slipped her Mini Mag from her back pocket and aimed the light at the narrow crack between the back of the dresser and the wall. Nothing taped to the back. Nothing hidden behind it. The drawers held office supplies. Paper for the printer. Printer cartridges. Pens, tablets. File folders. But no files. She removed the floor vent cover and checked in the duct. Nada.

  Sadie moved on to the desk. She sat down in the chair and awakened the computer, noted the log-in box that appeared. Tucking a thumb drive into one of the slots, she allowed the program to do its job of determining the necessary password to get into the system. The middle desk drawer held more office junk. A couple of erasers, sticky notes. Two smaller side drawers were basically empty except for a tube of lotion in one and a pack of condoms in the other. Sadie opened the lotion and ensured nothing other than lotion was inside. She did the same with the small box of condoms. In the box she found McGill’s secret stash of oxy. A dozen of the 40 mg pills.

  Not surprising. The whole world seemed hooked on that shit.

  The two lower file drawers actually held files. McGill had written the contents on each. “Property Papers.” “Taxes.” “Medical.” “Credit Cards.” The usual. Sadie picked through the contents of each manila folder.