“Whatever the reason,” Devlin said, “I believe Alice is Isabella, and she’s here. She’s killed at least one girl and tried to kill two others.” Devlin pulled out her cell. “A friend of mine posed as a social worker and spent some time with the woman taking care of Alice—the alleged aunt. My friend said the house is full of crosses. But the strangest part is Alice’s room.” Devlin handed her phone to Sadie, the photo app open.

  Sadie’s gaze landed on the masks hanging on the wall. Ghostly white. Two dark eyeholes. Horns protruding from the sides. Fear crowded into Sadie’s chest. This was the kind of mask the child in her dreams . . . or memories had worn. Fingers trembling, she swiped, stared at the next photo. This one showed crude drawings. A bloodred moon in the middle of a paint-blackened page. Yellow flames, flickering across another page. The red coals beneath the flames bleeding.

  Doing all within her power to keep her hand from shaking, Sadie passed the phone back to Devlin. She struggled to find her voice. Her heart pounded harder and harder. “You better keep your kid away from this girl, Devlin.”

  She’s had some problems . . . we’ve had to be very careful with her.

  The words whispered through Sadie’s mind. Eddie’s voice, his words. Had he said this to her about Isabella? Or had he been speaking of someone else?

  Devlin’s cell vibrated in her hand. She answered. Listened for a few seconds, then said, “I’ll be right there.” She put her phone away. “I have to go. My daughter needs me.”

  “Thanks for giving me a ride,” Sadie managed to say without her voice breaking.

  Devlin paused at the door. “Like I said last night, anything you can do to help is greatly appreciated.”

  Sadie nodded. “Yeah.”

  Devlin left.

  All this talk about Alice being Isabella was nothing more than speculation, a potential scenario. A theory. Sadie couldn’t be sure. Maybe her mind was playing tricks on her again. That happened sometimes. Okay, more than sometimes.

  But the photos on Devlin’s phone were real. The drawings belonged to Alice Cortez. Dark. Sinister. Those drawings were way too similar to ones Sadie had seen before . . . in that shack or shed at the Osorio compound. The shaking started deep inside Sadie and spread outward, through her limbs.

  The place the masked child had led her into the night of that party.

  33

  4:15 p.m.

  Devlin Residence

  Twenty-First Avenue South

  Birmingham

  “Please, Tori,” Kerri pleaded, “tell me if there’s anything else we need to talk about? I can’t help if I don’t know.”

  Tori sat on the sofa, her elbows resting on her knees, her face in her hands. Kerri had never seen her so desolate. To say she looked as if she’d lost her best friend was the understatement of the century. She had lost her best friend as surely as if she had died, but this went well beyond that kind of loss and pain.

  This was the agony of betrayal. The level of betrayal only a best friend could wield.

  Tori leaned back against the sofa. “They all believe her. And why wouldn’t they? We’ve been friends forever.” Her eyes closed in misery. “I just can’t imagine why she said such a thing.”

  “Did Sarah ever talk to you about wanting to hurt Brendal? Or to Alice that you know of?”

  Tori moved her head side to side. “She said she hated her. We all said that at one time or another. You know when you get angry, you say things you don’t really mean. At least not completely.”

  Kerri nodded. Her back to the arm of the sofa, she pulled one knee under her so she could sit facing Tori. “I know exactly what you mean. There was someone in my freshman class who made me feel that exact same way.” Kerri sighed as the memories instantly tumbled into her mind. “My sort-of-hate girl was Lola Gray.”

  “Lola?” Tori’s lips twitched as if she might smile. “Are you talking about Piper Knox’s mom?”

  “She was a Gray back then,” Kerri admitted. “She was the mean girl that year. She’d come into her more grown-up assets earlier than most of us, and she had perfect skin and perfect teeth—no braces required. She lived to make the rest of us girls feel inferior—which was completely unnecessary, because we already did.”

  “But she didn’t die.” Tori’s face fell. “And your best friend didn’t finger you for pushing her down the stairs.”

  “No. But I did play a dirty trick on her once.” Kerri had never admitted this to anyone. Ever. Not even Diana or Jen.

  Tori’s eyes widened in disbelief. “What did you do?”

  “We were seated on the bleachers awaiting the start of the pep rally. Lola was on the row above me, her feet sort of between me and the girl next to me. Lola was always so full of herself and bragging to anyone around her that she never noticed me fiddling with her sneaker laces.”

  “You did not?” Tori said in disbelief, her eyes even wider now.

  “I did. I tied those suckers together. When the pep rally was over and it was our turn to leave, she took a tumble. She busted her lip and hit her nose, so there was lots of blood. Scared the heck out of me. Luckily there were no serious injuries. She was, at least temporarily, mortified with the swelling and bruising.”

  “Did you feel like you’d made her pay just a little?” Tori asked, her eyes closely searching her mother’s.

  “For about three seconds and then I felt like a total jerk. I kept thinking of all the terrible things that could have happened. She could have been gravely injured. I was lucky it wasn’t far worse.”

  “Wow. I can’t believe you did something like that.”

  “We all have our moments, Tori, where we say or do something we regret later. Maybe it feels or sounds right at that moment because we’re upset or hurt. But we realize in the end that it was a mistake.”

  Tori seemed to realize what her mother was getting at then. “I didn’t do it, Mom. I didn’t push Brendal or tell Sarah to do it. I don’t know why she said I did. It’s not true.” She shook her head. “I didn’t do it.”

  “I never believed you did,” Kerri assured her. “I just wanted you to understand that we all make mistakes. If the idea was discussed prior to what happened—”

  “It wasn’t,” she cried. “I swear. We never talked about hurting Brendal. Never. We did talk about how we hoped everyone saw her for what she was one day, but we never—at least I know I didn’t—took any sort of step to make that happen.”

  “Let’s talk about Sarah,” Kerri offered. “Have you noticed any issues with her recently. Depression? Anxiety? Anything going on with her parents?”

  “No way. She was hurt by the things Brendal was saying and doing, but she knew it would pass eventually. Brendal never stayed focused on one person too long. Sarah and I knew she would move on eventually.”

  “What about Alice? How was she in all this?”

  Tori took a big breath. “She’s the one who kept saying Brendal needed to understand she couldn’t treat people so badly. She didn’t like her at all. Honestly, I think she was jealous of her.”

  “She never suggested any recourse one or all of you should take?”

  “No. She just kept bringing Brendal up. Rubbing it in, sort of. I didn’t consider that was what she was doing at first, but looking back, I can see how she wanted to keep the drama going.”

  Kerri thought of all that Jen had seen in the Cortez home. “Did Alice talk much about the masks and the drawings she likes so much? The ones at her house, I mean.”

  “They’re part of her beliefs.” Tori shrugged. “Like her religion. She thinks they give her magical powers because she’s a princess.”

  “Did she ever try and prove this theory to you?”

  Tori bit her lip as if she wasn’t sure she should tell this part.

  “Don’t hold back,” Kerri urged. “It’s the only way I can help.”

  “The last time Sarah and I spent the night at the same time, Alice talked about how if we were her real friends that we could become like her—a part of her. She said we’d be the most popular girls in school if we stuck with her. She told us this over and over. Kept reminding us of how amazing we’d be.”

  “Was she attempting some sort of brainwashing?” This was sounding more and more like exactly that sort of pressure tactic.

  Tori shook her head. “I don’t know. Maybe.”

  Kerri reached out and squeezed her hand. “Whatever she was attempting to do, I don’t believe you or Sarah did anything bad. We are going to get to the bottom of what did happen.”

  Tori nodded.

  Kerri’s chest tightened as she thought of what she needed to ask her daughter next. But she couldn’t pretend it hadn’t happened. As soon as Kerri had arrived at her sister’s house, Diana had pulled her aside and told her what the boys had found on the computer in their room.

  “Tori, have you been feeling like maybe you want to die too? I mean, as in take your own life?”

  Tori’s gaze shot to her mother’s and just as quickly shifted away. “Why would you ask such a lame question? I already told you I didn’t mean what I said after I found out Brendal had died. I was just upset.”

  “Diana noticed someone had been searching suicide on the upstairs computer. If it wasn’t you, it was one of the boys. She needs to know if one of them is having trouble.”

  Kerri held her breath.

  “It was me.”

  Kerri’s heart sank. “I hope you would never feel as if that were the only answer. You have people who love you and who would do anything for you. Suicide is not an option.”

  “I know. I was just feeling sorry for myself and I . . .” She fell silent for a moment. “No, that’s not right. Yes, I was feeling bad, but it was Alice who told me I should probably take myself out of the narrative. It made me wonder how people—people like Sarah—could feel bad enough to actually do it.”

  Outrage roared through Kerri. “Has she ever suggested such a thing to you or Sarah before?” Kerri thought of the two girls at Walker Academy, and more of that white-hot fury flamed inside her.

  “A few times lately.” Tori shrugged. “I think she mostly does it to see how we’ll react. You know, the whole shock-value thing.”

  “I’m certain you understand by now that Alice is not and never has been your or Sarah’s friend.”

  “For sure.” Tori stared at her cuticles for a moment. “There’s something else I need to tell you. Something Alice found out and has been bugging me about.”

  Kerri held her breath and waited for her daughter to go on.

  “I think I might be gay. I mean, I’m not sure, but . . . I think so.” Tori squeezed her eyes shut and seemed to hold her breath as well.

  Surprised at not having recognized her daughter was wrestling with her sexuality, Kerri reached out and pulled her into a hug. “Sweetie, you don’t have to be afraid to talk about that or anything else with me. You’re my daughter. I love you no matter what. Do you understand that? I love whatever makes you you.”

  Tori held on to her mother for a long while; when she finally drew back, she said, “Can we not talk about this for a little bit? I’m not ready to tell other people right now. I have to get used to these feelings before I feel comfortable sharing them. Maybe we can order pizza or something.”

  “Absolutely.” Kerri leaned over and kissed her daughter on the head. “Relax. I’ll place an order now.”

  After ensuring Tori had found something on television, Kerri went into the kitchen. She placed the order for pizza and put through a call to Sykes. She struggled to calm herself before he answered. She wasn’t entirely successful.

  “Tell me you have something concrete in this investigation,” she demanded. Her daughter was suffering. Being a teenager was damned hard enough without all this insanity.

  The rough exhale that sounded in her ear was not the answer she wanted to hear.

  “The LT told you to back off, Devlin,” Sykes warned. “We cannot discuss this case with you.”

  “I don’t want to hear the dirty details, Sykes. I want to know if you’re making any headway. A yes or no will be sufficient.”

  His silence was answer enough. No.

  “Let me tell you what I know.” Kerri told him about the masks and the bizarre drawings. “Did you miss all that when you visited the Cortez home?”

  “We didn’t miss shit,” he snarled, defensive now.

  “What about the two suicide attempts at Walker Academy and the missing girl? Alice was involved with those girls. You can’t see how what happened there might be relevant to this case? I know you’re a better detective than this, Sykes.”

  One, two, three beats of silence.

  “Yes, Devlin. We’ve been looking into what happened at Walker. Remember, the LT ordered us to. At least we were until we were told to back off.”

  And here Kerri had thought nothing could shock her at this point. “What does that mean, Sykes? Did the LT tell you to back off?”

  “No. What it means is little Miss Alice Cortez is in Mayor Warren’s mentoring program. She’s off limits. We got the order straight from the chief. We don’t get to question her or her family again. If we discover something that ties the girl to what happened, we take it straight to the chief. Otherwise, we keep our mouths shut about her. The kid’s untouchable.”

  Kerri took a moment to ride out the shock and outrage and to digest this news. “I see.”

  “Yeah. We’re doing all we can—including looking more closely at the Walker situation. We just have to walk that line I told you about. And FYI, we finally got to talk to the two girls at Walker Academy. They both said Alice tried to talk them out of what they did. I guess your dead friend failed to tell you that part.”

  Rather than tell Sykes what she thought of his smart-ass remark, she said, “Thanks for giving me a heads-up.” She ended the call and fought the urge to call the LT and rant.

  Ranting wouldn’t help. She was on thin ice with the LT already.

  What she needed was evidence. The evidence Sue Grimes might have been able to give her if she hadn’t ended up dead and if that poor girl hadn’t gone missing.

  Why the hell would the mayor put her program—no matter how prestigious—above a murder investigation? Why would she protect Alice Cortez? Was it because the girl was a minority like her? Did she believe that Tori and Sarah were being treated differently than Alice because they were white?

  Maybe, but Kerri’s instincts were humming far too loud to ignore the other possibility. They needed to take a much closer look at the mayor, even if only to rule her out. She could only imagine the LT’s and the chief’s reactions to this conclusion.

  The doorbell rang, dragging Kerri away from the troubling thoughts.

  “I’ll get it,” Kerri told her daughter as she moved back into the living room. She didn’t want Tori answering the door, in case it was a rogue reporter.

  Thankfully it was only the pizza delivery. A few minutes later the pizza and drinks were spread on the coffee table, and Tori was picking at a slice. Kerri forced herself to eat in hopes of encouraging her daughter to do the same. But the idea that Mayor Warren had taken such a drastic step wouldn’t let go. What the hell?

  Kerri’s cell vibrated against the table. Falco’s face showed on the screen. She answered. He needed to know about this as well. “Hey.”

  “How’s our girl?”

  Kerri pushed to her feet and walked into the kitchen. “She’s okay. We’re muddling through. Anything new on your end?”

  “Cross was able to get some bank statements belonging to McGill.”

  Before Kerri could respond, he said, “Don’t ask how. Just know that she got them, and there are very large monthly deposits to a sweet little overseas account McGill set up two years ago—about the same time she started working for Kurtz. The deposits are far healthier than her monthly salary. Looks like Kurtz was right, and McGill was the source inside his business.”

  Definitely an interesting turn of events. “Is there a chance what she was doing might have been something less complicated, like skimming profits at the tobacco shop?”

  “With the income he took in weekly, it’s not impossible,” Falco said.

  “If that’s the case, maybe Kurtz discovered her sticky fingers and confronted her?” Which could mean his murder wasn’t related to drugs or the cartel, ultimately blowing all to hell their theory that he and Walsh were working together.

  Falco said, “We’re talking a sizable chunk of change. She would’ve done some serious time if he’d pressed charges. Previous employers could potentially have started coming forward if McGill has done this before. But,” he allowed, “this could also be about the distribution of drugs. Cross believes McGill was the source Kurtz and Walsh intended to confront. This could be the first piece of tangible evidence.”

  True. “But there’s a big difference between taking money or even low-level drug distribution,” Kerri reminded him, “and killing someone—especially two someones.”

  “No question,” Falco agreed. “But what do we really know about McGill? She may have a history of violence we haven’t uncovered yet. Maybe they confronted her, and she killed them. In fact, Walsh being there actually worked in her favor by drawing suspicion farther from her. She doesn’t know the guy and had no connection to him.”

  Kerri wasn’t ready to buy into the scenario. “Maybe someone else figured out what she was up to and used it to blackmail her into providing the opportunity to take them both out.”

  “Only one way to find out,” Falco said. “I’ll drop by the shop and interview her again.”

  Worry gnawed at Kerri. “I don’t like you doing this alone. We don’t know what McGill is capable of.” Right now was not a good time for her to leave Tori.

  “I’ll take Cross with me. She seems to know a lot more about McGill than we do.”

  “Be careful and keep me up to speed,” Kerri ordered. “I don’t want to hear from someone else about you getting into trouble.”