The easiest way to release guilt was to heap it onto someone else. “Your father didn’t want you encumbered with religion.” Although Kerri had been raised in church and old habits died hard, she hadn’t disagreed with him entirely. “We can pray together if you’d like.”

“Forget it.”

For about five seconds Kerri allowed her daughter to stew in her latest excuse for why she felt so miserable. Then she asked the question to which she desperately needed an accurate answer. “Do you feel like what happened to Brendal was in any way your fault?” Kerri held her breath. She didn’t want to believe her daughter capable of this sort of violence—and she didn’t—but she did need to know what had happened.

Horror claimed Tori’s expression. “How could you ask that? Of course not!”

“But there’s something you’re not telling me, Tori. Something that’s bothering you. It feels to me like you’re battling some amount of culpability.”

Since hitting fourteen, Tori had become more secretive. It was normal. Kerri understood this. Until this year, she had known all Tori’s friends—girls and boys—her daughter had gone to school with since kindergarten. But everything was different now. After elementary more kids had merged into the private school Tori had attended her entire academic life. There were a lot of new names and faces.

Kerri and her sister had gone to public school. Diana’s kids did. But Tori’s father had insisted their one and only child would go to private school. To the same one he had attended. Funny how that fancy school hadn’t done one damned thing for his moral code, or perhaps he had missed that part. Either way, Tori was happy there. Her friends were there. The one good thing her ex had done in the divorce was agree to pay the tuition until Tori graduated. The concession was not for Kerri’s benefit or even for Tori’s. It was for his own. Nick couldn’t have his child attending public school. Even one he had abandoned emotionally and geographically.

“I told the police the truth,” Tori said, fresh tears gathering in her eyes. “I don’t know what happened. One second we were all standing there, and the next Brendal was falling down the stairs.”

Her voice shook on the last word. She swiped at her eyes.

Kerri gave her a moment to compose herself. “Your new friend, Alice . . . do you like her? I mean, really like her the way you do Sarah?”

A shrug lifted one thin shoulder. “I guess. Sarah and I have been friends forever, so it’s hard to say that I like Alice the same. I haven’t known her that long. She’s pretty and smart, but she doesn’t make friends easy. She likes being the center of attention. That turns a lot of people off.”

Unquestionably. “So, she isn’t shy?”

Another of those noncommittal shrugs. “She’s just, you know, different.”

Brighton was particularly well known for its diversity. Kerri couldn’t see the difficulty Alice had making friends as being related to her ethnicity. “Different how?”

“She’s bossy, sort of.”

A new student coming in with a bossy attitude would certainly turn most students off. “Bossy how?”

Tori heaved a big sigh. “How do you think? She likes to tell people what to do. She says she’s a princess.” Her lips bit together, and her eyes widened.

Obviously, she’d told Kerri more than she’d intended. “A princess?”

Tori moistened her lips. “That’s supposed to be a secret. I wasn’t supposed to tell.”

“I won’t tell anyone,” Kerri promised. “Whatever you tell me will stay between us as long as it has no bearing on what happened. I have—we both have an obligation to share anything that relates to what happened to Brendal.”

Tori fingered the edge of her laptop. “Alice said she was born to rule, but that something happened and changed everything. That’s why she was sent here. Away from her home until the trouble is over. The story about her parents being dead is like a cover story. Her parents are dead, but they died a long time ago. She was sent here for protection from whatever is happening back in Mexico.”

Kerri nodded. “Anything is possible. Sometimes, though, people make up alternative stories when the real one is too painful.”

“I think maybe that’s what she’s doing.” Tori’s gaze met her mother’s. “I didn’t really believe her story about being a princess.”

Kerri waited for Tori to go on, but she looked away instead. “You and Sarah have spent the night with her a few times.” Now that Kerri thought about it, a couple of months had passed since the last time. Alice had never come to their house for a sleepover. Kerri had no idea if she’d gone to Sarah’s.

“Her house is kind of creepy.” Tori chewed her lower lip a second before going on. “I don’t like going there. I think Sarah has gone a couple times when I didn’t.”

“It’s a nice neighborhood.” Kerri made it a point to familiarize herself with the homes and neighborhoods of her daughter’s friends if going to the home came up.

“It’s not that. The house is pretty and all, but it’s creepy inside.”

“Creepy how?” This was news.

“There’s all this religious stuff. Her aunt and uncle are deep into it.”

“That made you uncomfortable?” This was the South. Most folks went to church. Tori had gone to church with Sarah several times. Diana had crosses and at least one picture depicting Jesus in her house.

Tori nodded. “It’s just different. Can we please not talk about this anymore?”

“Okay. For now. But I need you to think over those moments before Brendal fell and tell me anything at all you remember that’s different from what you’ve told me so far. Detectives Sykes and Peterson will be talking to you again. Count on it.”

Shrug number three. “’kay.”

“I’ll go work on dinner.” Kerri stood. “Feel free to come and help.”

Kerri left the door open to emphasize her invitation as she headed downstairs. She had always trusted her daughter. Tori wasn’t one to keep things from her. Only that once when she’d kept quiet about the man harassing Amelia. Kerri couldn’t believe she would hold back anything important ever again. Not after losing Amelia. The loss was still fresh in all their hearts.