“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.