“Oh, thank God, I found you!” Edie said, her voice shaking. “Have you heard the awful news? Oh, God, it’s so horrible! I think I’ve made a horrid mistake!”
“Mom, slow down.” Jules had expected the call, though she could never be totally prepared to handle Edie. “Take a deep breath.”
“I can’t calm down! Your sister is at Blue Rock Academy, and there was a murder down there!” She was ranting,
barely stopping to draw a breath. “Didn’t you see it on the news?”
“Mom, I know,” Jules said calmly. “I talked to Shaylee.”
“Oh, my God, did she know the victims?”
“Yeah. I’m not sure about the boy, but the girl was her roommate.”
There was a squeak on the other end of the phone.
“But Shay’s all right for now. Shaken up, of course, and she wants to leave. But as I understand it, that’s impossible not only because of the court order but also because right now there’s an investigation by the local sheriff’s department. They’re interviewing all of the staff and students.”
“Oh, my God! Oh, my God!” Edie was nearly hyperventilating. “I thought I was doing the right thing. I thought she needed the structure of that school. I thought … Oh, Lord, Jules, I know you tried to talk me out of this, but I believed Reverend Lynch and Analise and—”
“Mom, it’s okay,” Jules said, though she knew it wasn’t. The only good news was that Edie possessed a scintilla of maternal love. “Shay is fine for now, but maybe you should lay the groundwork to get her out of the school.”
“I can’t do anything. It’s a court order.” She let out a long, trembling sigh, and Jules imagined her chewing on the end of a brightly tipped fingernail.
“Then talk to the judge. Get the attorney back.”
“First I need to talk with Reverend Lynch. I tried earlier but couldn’t get past his secretary.”
Charla King. Jules had met her in passing.
“Keep trying, and even if you do get through, don’t be talked out of it. Have your attorney file a motion or something.”
Edie was calming down a bit. “And then what? Where will the judge send her? Juvenile detention? A psych ward?”
“Maybe she can attend some kind of day facility in a place where kids aren’t getting killed,” Jules said, trying to get the seriousness of the matter across. “Mom, you need to get Shaylee out of Blue Rock as soon as possible.”
“You’re right. I’ll call Max,” Edie decided.
“He hasn’t exactly been the most dedicated father,” Jules pointed out.
“Oh, I know, but he certainly has the money to … what?” Her voice softened and was suddenly muffled as she tried to disguise the fact that she was talking with someone else in the room—no doubt Grantie-Boy, the latest sycophant in her life. “Oh, sorry,” Edie finally said, her attention returning to the phone conversation. “Did Shaylee leave a number where she could be reached?”
“No. You know the school doesn’t allow calls normally.” Jules walked to the tall windows overlooking the campus. Outside, the night was quiet, though she spied a deputy standing near the gazebo. “But she did say that Blue Rock had beefed up security and that there were officers from the sheriff’s department at the school.”
“Thank goodness! That makes me feel a little better. If she calls again, have her phone me, would you? And I’ll keep trying to reach Reverend Lynch.”
You and every other decent parent of the kids here,
Jules thought, hanging up and letting out her breath. Dealing with Edie had never been easy, but it was worse in times of crises. It crossed her mind that Edie, if and when she ever got through to Tobias Lynch, might learn more than she bargained for. Especially if Lynch got on his soapbox and started telling her about how the school was coping, providing grief counseling and new security measures, how they’d even recently hired a new teacher in a never-ending quest for quality education, Ms. Julia Farentino …
For now, Jules would have to take that chance. Looking outside again, she saw a deputy in his car smoking a cigarette,
the tip glowing red while the heavy snow continued to fall, as if to bury all the secrets of Blue Rock Academy.
Over the years, Shay had lost a lot of faith in her older sister. In many ways Jules was a screwup. She’d messed up her marriage and jobs, and Jules just never seemed able to get her act together. She was always nursing migraines and complaining of sleepless nights; she’d seemed weak to Shay, or at least a victim of her own neuroses, the kind of person who always shot herself in her own foot.
Incompetent.
Too nice. Too worried about what other people thought. Too much like their mother.
But, Shay had to hand it to her older sister. When push came to shove and Shay was in trouble, Jules came through. Who would have thought she’d have the nerve to lie and find a position at the school?
Certainly not Shay.
Not that Shay was convinced Jules could do anything while employed at Blue Rock. So she was here—to do what? Jules was planning to play some kind of detective to prove that the school was shady? First, Jules was not a crafty liar. And second, well, the school was already on shaky ground with some serious security problems right now. A girl had been killed. What more did Jules need to prove that Blue Rock wasn’t a safe place?
On the other hand, Jules was fighting a losing battle. Reverend Lynch and his henchmen had too much at stake. He was on a power trip, there was big money to be made from the parents of rich juvie Ds, and Shay doubted he and the others would just admit anything even if Detective Jules found something fishy.
For now, Shay decided, as she opened the door to her new room, she’d play along. The room she’d shared with
Nona was now being treated as a crime scene, so she’d been moved, after everything she owned had been sifted over by the cops.
Great.
She fell onto one of the twin beds, thinking of all those kids crying at the prayer vigil. Some of them probably didn’t even know Nona. Hypocrites. And she had been the girl’s roommate, and did anybody cut her a break? Not a chance.
She sighed and found herself wishing for her laptop, a TV, or a real cell phone with apps instead of Nona’s stupid bare-bones phone with limited minutes and no charger.
She was going out of her mind. And where was Dawg? Her boyfriend.
Forget him. Deep down you know that he was intrigued with you because of Max.
She hated to think that, but it was true. Once Dawg had realized she was Max Stillman’s daughter, he’d become really interested. As if Max cared a bit about Shay.
Ridiculous!
Refusing to think of Dawg and all the trouble he’d caused her, she eyed the stack of books she was supposed to read for her classes.
Nuh-uh. She wasn’t that desperate yet.
For a second, she thought about Father Jake and wondered what it would be like seriously talking to him. He seemed like a good enough guy, but, then, what did she know about him?
Nothing.
And besides, he couldn’t help her with her problems. No one could.
Stretching on the bed, she heard voices, getting louder in the hallway.
Rap. Rap. Rap.
“Shaylee?” Knuckles banged on her door half a second before it swept open.
Shaylee shot up into a sitting position. “Hey!”
“Hi, Shaylee,” Dr. Burdette said as she walked into the room without waiting for an invitation. She was carrying two big, overflowing plastic bags.
On her heels, obviously unhappy, was Crystal Ricci, the thin girl with the dragon tattoo on her neck. She was loaded down with a sleeping bag in her arms and still managed to wheel a roller bag behind her.
Burdette said, “I didn’t want you to be alone, being as you’re new and all, so Crystal is going to be your roommate for the next month or two. You girls know each other, right?”
“Know
is subjective,” Crystal said, scowling at Burdette.
“Semantics.” Burdette waved off Crystal’s back talk. “This is just a temporary arrangement.”
“Great.” In flannel pajamas, the sleeping bag trailing on the floor, Crystal looked as ticked off as anyone could get. “I thought I’d earned my privacy.”
“And now you have a chance to help someone else to earn hers,” Burdette said. “We have a serious problem here, Crystal, and we all have to pull together. Desperate times call for desperate measures. This is the academy’s desperate time, and you having to accept a roommate again is your desperate measure.”
“I don’t need to be babysat,” Shay said, cutting through Burdette’s BS.
“That’s not what this is about,” Burdette insisted, dropping the plastic bags onto the bed.
“Sure it is.” Crystal sent Shaylee a new look of respect. “Let’s face it, no one trusts the new kid, especially when her roommate turns up dead.”
Shay tried to stay cool, though every muscle in her body had gone tight. “You think I had something to do with Nona’s death?”
“Did you?”
“Enough!” Burdette stepped in. “All things considered, you should both be happy to have a roommate. More security.”
“Why do we need a bathroom buddy,” Shay asked, “when there are cameras and spy equipment all over the friggin’ school? In fact, you should know exactly who killed Nona. Isn’t it all on tape? Hasn’t the school turned the tapes over to the cops? That would make it pretty easy, wouldn’t it? Check the tapes, see who attacked Nona and Drew in the stable.”
“It’s not that easy.” Burdette’s face was stone cold.
Shay shook her head. “This is basic stuff, Dr. Burdette. You can see it on any episode of
CSI
or
Law and Order
or
Forensic Files.”
“Things are easy on television, all neatly tied up in forty-eight minutes.” Burdette glanced up at the sprinkler head for a second, as if to make certain the camera was in place, then said, “Good night, ladies.”
The door whispered shut behind her, and Shay was left staring at Crystal. “There are no cameras, are there?”
The girl with the dragon tattoo finally grinned. “So all the hype about you was right. You are smart, aren’t you?”
“Is there a meeting tonight?” His right-hand man’s voice crackled over a walkie-talkie.
Hidden in the shadows of the tree line, the Leader glanced around the campus. Dressed in black ski clothes that cut the windchill, he made note of the changes, security measures that had been enforced faster than he’d anticipated.
Despite the chaos around him, despite his need to be with his followers again, despite the roar of blood pulsing in his ears whenever he saw Shaylee Stillman, he decided a
meeting of the disciples would only put those he cared for in danger. He would have to be strong. Patient. Clear-thinking.
“Not tonight.” It was too dangerous. The sheriff’s deputies were combing the campus on horseback, in four-wheel vehicles, even with cruisers and boats on the frigid lake. Armed with shotguns, rifles, scopes, pistols, night-vision equipment, and dogs, law enforcers were out in full force. That would die down, of course. The small, rural department didn’t have the manpower to keep up the full-frontal attack for long.
“What about the inner circle?” asked his most trusted assistant, his voice so eager. So ready. So burning with fire for the cause …
Or was he? Perhaps this subordinate had his own ambitions. Perhaps he, the person he trusted most, was the reason things were spinning out of control.
“Soon. We just have to wait a few days. We can’t arouse suspicion. I’ll let you know when the time is right.” He clicked off, the static receding, the wail of the wind filling his ears.
Fortunately, the weather was on his side, emergency personnel working around the clock. The sheriff’s department would have to limit the number of personnel they sent to the campus when there were desperate calls for help elsewhere—downed wires, blown transformers, car accidents, people freezing in their homes, abandoned vehicles, and stranded travelers. Even the Oregon State Police had their hands full in the arctic blast that dropped temperatures far below freezing and dumped snow and ice all over the state.
Still, he had to be careful.
For now, he couldn’t risk being followed or exposed.
The snow on the ground would make tracking much too easy, though the more powder that was predicted to fall in the next few days, the harder for the dogs, horses, and vehicles to get around. Even the frantic parents wouldn’t be able to reach their darling delinquents.
He glanced to the sky, where opaque clouds blocked the stars. More snow was predicted, the pressure system bearing down in what newscasters were calling “the storm of the century.”
That, he liked.
If things got worse and the concern about Nona Vickers’s death died down, then he could get back to work. It depended upon Andrew Prescott, he supposed, whether he made it or not. He squinted into the night, not understanding how all of his plans, so well formulated, seemed to be unraveling.
Be patient. You can handle this.
The wind picked up again, whispering through the woods, slapping at his face, cooling his blood, forcing clarity to overcome passion. The flakes of snow had become tiny, icy pellets that indicated a blizzard on its way.
Good.
The more the campus was cut off from the rest of the world, the better.
Tonight, he would force himself to remain quiet. Tonight he would rein in his emotions. Soon there would be time for his ultimate goals.
He walked with purpose to his own quarters.
No one would think twice about him being out at this hour, as long as he was alone. Which was just the way he wanted it. Until he sorted things out.
Drip. Drip. Drip.
Jules made her way to the den, where the flickering gray light of a television drew her like a magnet, pulling her closer. She knew that something was wrong in the room. It felt empty and cold, as if the dark spirit of bad luck had passed through.
The French doors were open, a breeze playing with the
gauzy curtains. The red light for the VCR indicated the machine was playing, the clock stuck at two forty-seven.
Goose bumps pimpled her arms as she stared at the television screen, where muted images danced, a study of light and shadow.