Wendy nodded. “Mackenzie thinks it’s all her fault.”
That was a gut punch. From what Wendy had said, Mackenzie hadn’t done anything wrong. There had to be more to this. “Is that all that happened?”
Wendy’s eyes grew wide with indignity. “Isn’t that enough?”
Okay, so Ella had been humiliated by a peer. But one incident wasn’t enough to make you throw yourself off a bridge.
She needed to talk to the source. “What’s Rachel’s last name?”
“Alex.”
“Have you ever been to her house?”
“Sure. But only with Mackenzie. I think Rachel likes her more than me.”
“Do you remember her address?”
“Yeah,” Wendy said cautiously.
“Write it down.” Miranda handed the girl her phone and waited for her to reluctantly tap in the information.
She handed the phone back. “You aren’t going to see her, are you?”
“Why not?”
Wendy squirmed in her chair. “I don’t know. She’s going to hate me for telling on her.”
“I won’t mention where I got the information.”
“She’ll know.”
As much as she cared about Wendy, Ella was the priority right now. “Don’t you think Rachel will care if she’s responsible for what Ella did today?”
“I guess so.” Wendy gazed longingly out the window. “Can I go home now?”
“Sure. But don’t tell Mackenzie about our talk. I don’t want her tipping off Rachel.”
“Okay.”
Miranda led her to the front door where Inky was back and meowing, probably hoping for some milk. Before Miranda could suggest it, Wendy scooped the cat up in her arms and bounded down the steps and across the lawn.
“Bye,” Miranda said to herself.
Then she closed the door and headed for the kitchen.
Chapter Nine
Miranda found Parker at the granite counter, pouring coffee into two Styrofoam cups.
He stirred cream into one and handed her the other. “Our hostess has generously provided us with leftovers.”
“Thanks.” She took a sip. It was Parker’s brand and heavenly.
“I didn’t need much for the recipe,” Coco said. “You can have all you want.”
“Thanks, Coco, but we’ve got another stop to make.” She pointed to the cup. “Glad you made this to go.”
Parker held her gaze. “You got something out of Wendy?”
“I did. I’ll tell you about it in the car. Sorry we can’t stay, Coco.”
“I understand.” She opened a drawer and handed her and Parker lids for their coffee.
After gulping down another sip, Miranda took one and popped it on. “Leave it to a caterer’s helper to have supplies on hand.”
“She’s also provided these.” Parker held up two power protein bars.
“You’re an angel, Coco.”
“Don’t mention it. You two go on now. I’m fine.”
“Thanks.”
They hurried out the door and into the Mazda.
Before Parker had reached the end of the street, Miranda had already downed half her protein bar.
“This isn’t bad,” she said with her mouth full.
Parker raised an indignant brow. “Apparently those are Antonio’s typical breakfast these days.”
She took another gulp of coffee. “He’s working a lot?”
“So Coco told me. I don’t think she’s happy about it.”
“That’s too bad. Maybe you should speak to him. After all, she’s pregnant.” Miranda knew what it was like to be left alone in that condition. But Estavez wasn’t a neglectful husband. He was just busy.
“I intend to.”
While Parker turned onto West Paces Ferry and began to eat his own protein bar, Miranda filled him in on what Wendy had told her. Then she grabbed her phone and started digging for any information she could find on Rachel’s family.
“Father is Christopher Alex. He owns a cloud computing company downtown.”
“I seem to recall that. His wife is Beth.”
“Uh huh. She’s a charity maven, probably knows Colby. Do you know these two?” Parker knew everybody in Atlanta.
“Slightly.”
“Anything about the daughter?”
He frowned in concentration as he slowed for a stop sign. “As I recall, they have three children. Two sons in college and Rachel.”
“So she’s the baby.”
“Yes.”
“Hmm.”
“Objectivity, Miranda,” Parker warned as he moved through the intersection.
He knew her too well. “I know, I know. Let’s just see what this little snob has to say for herself.”
The address Wendy had given her was in Kingswood, only a few miles away from Mockingbird Hills, and not far from the Chatham’s place. They drove along in silence until they reached a heavily wooded street. Parker slowed the car and turned onto a curving brick drive that led them through a small forest to a stately entrance with the requisite Grecian columns arranged in a tasteful semicircle.
Miranda took in the European-inspired façade. The taupe limestone exterior and slate gray accents featured twin Mansard roofs and chimneys, as well as perfectly manicured shrubbery.
“Cozy little cottage. What would you say it’s worth? About four mill?”
With a smirk, Parker got out of the car and opened the door for her.
As she emerged from the Mazda, Miranda noticed a garage at the side of the building in the same design. One of the doors was just closing.
“Looks like they just arrived home,” Parker noted.
“As good a time as any to pay a visit.” She marched up the front steps and rang the bell.
After a long moment, a woman opened the door.
She was Miranda’s height and dressed in a teal causal outfit with a cream colored sweater over her shoulders. Big gold hoops hung from her ears. Her hair was brown with light blond highlights and cut in a short breezy style. Her skin was a healthy tan, either from a recent vacation or a tanning bed. Overall, she had the easy air of someone who never worried about much of anything.
She frowned at her visitors with a squarish face and thick brown brows as well-manicured as the landscape. “Can I help you?”
Miranda gave Parker a you-do-the-talking look. These were his kind of people, after all.
He responded with an imperceptible nod and turned to the woman at the door. “We apologize for disturbing you, Beth—”
She held up a defensive hand. “I’m sorry. Do I know you?”
“I believe we saw each other at the governor’s mansion a few months ago.”
The woman stared at him for a long moment, as if he were crazy. And then she recalled the event.
“Oh, yes. Wade. Wade Parker. Forgive me, but it’s so out of context seeing you here on my doorstep. And this is your wife Miranda Steele, isn’t it?”
“That’s me.” Miranda shook hands with the woman.
Beth let out a breezy laugh. “I’m so used to seeing you two in the papers. What can I help you with today?”
Parker smiled his most patient smile. “Actually we’re looking into an incident that happened this morning.”
“Oh? Something happened? Not another serial killing, I hope.” She laughed again.
Either she hadn’t heard the news or she had no feeling at all.
Parker continued as if he hadn’t noticed. “I’m sorry to inform you that one of your daughter’s classmates attempted suicide this morning.”
“What?” The woman’s tawny complexion turned a little pale.
Okay, she hadn’t heard.
“She jumped from an overpass across I-20.”
Beth’s hand flew to her chest. “How absolutely horrible. Her parents must be beside themselves.”
“They are. The girl is in surgery. We don’t know if she’ll make it.”
“Oh, how dreadful. What can I do to help?”
Parker paused a moment before making the request. “Actually, we need to speak to your daughter, Rachel.”
Beth’s eyes flashed. “Rachel? I can assure you my daughter had nothing to do with this.”
And now it was time for defensive mode.
Again Parker smiled. “I’m sure she didn’t. But we have reason to believe she might know something that might give us some insight into the case.”
Miranda had to admire Parker’s knack for vagueness.
Beth waved a hand behind her. “We just got back from soccer practice. She’s in the shower.”
“We can wait for her.”
Beth’s mouth opened, closed again. There wasn’t much she could say to that, so she opened the door. “Very well, come on in.”
They stepped into a large elegant foyer that was almost completely white, though it had a smoky touch. It featured a towering ceiling and pale marble flooring. In the middle of it stood a round glass table supported by an ivory sculpture of elephants. At the far end, an open arch revealed a second story through a decorative railing.
“You can wait in here.”
Beth led them into another pale room with the same flooring, a minimal style glass coffee table, and tufted furniture.
“Make yourselves comfortable. I’ll go up and tell Rachel she has visitors.”
Miranda sank down into the soft alabaster couch and ran her hand over a furry white pillow as she glanced up at the golden chandelier above and the lofty vanilla colored fireplace.
So this was where Mackenzie’s mysterious friend lived. Can we spell spoiled rich kid?
Parker stood at one of the tall chalk-white framed windows and gazed out at the English garden.
Miranda wondered if his thoughts were drifting back to his father and the secret he’d revealed in New York a few weeks ago. She wished she could soothe his pain, but it was a place in his heart he wouldn’t let her touch.
The minutes ticked by, adding up to a time longer than the drive over.
Just as Miranda was thinking about tracking Beth down, footsteps sounded on the stairs and a breezy young teen glided into the room.
Her posture was perfect and she smelled of strawberries from her shower.
She had on clean multi-colored sweatpants, canvas slip-on shoes, and a dark long-sleeved T-shirt. She’d taken the time to blow-dry and style her thick medium brown hair in a straight style that ended just below her chin line.
With the same square face, thick brown brows, and wide set eyes as her mother, she took in her visitors as she politely shook hands.
“Hello, Mr. Parker. Ms. Steele. My mother said something about someone jumping off an overpass this morning. She said she’s in the hospital. Would you like my youth group from our church to visit her?”
Miranda glanced over at Parker, but his only reaction was to give her a look that told her to take over.
He had handled the adult. The kid was her domain. Okay, then.
She turned to the girl. “Sit down, Rachel.”
Looking shocked at the order, Rachel sank into one of the velvet chairs in front of the window. “Very well.”
“First of all, we don’t know if the girl will survive.”
“Oh? That’s just—awful.”
“Second, you know the girl. Ella Skinner.”
She blinked once, twice, but other than that she didn’t betray any remorse or even much recognition of the name.
“You know Ella, don’t you?”
She frowned as if trying to remember the name. “She goes to Old Ferncliff?”
“That’s right.”
“Oh, yes. I recall her now. A mousey-looking thing. But sweet. She just transferred recently.”
“So we understand.” Miranda waited a beat, but Rachel didn’t continue. “Do you have any idea why Ella might have wanted to throw herself off a bridge this morning?”
Rachel sucked in a breath. “Is that what she did? Oh, my.”
“Answer the question.”
Rachel glared at her as if appalled by her rudeness. “You’re looking at me like I’m a murder suspect. I didn’t have anything to do with what Ella did.”
She was going too fast. Slow down. Miranda softened her tone. “Why do you think Ella did it?”
Rachel reached for the arms of her chair. “Why? I have no idea. I barely know her.”
“Really? I understand you’ve had lunch with Ella all week.”
The girl’s eyes widened with surprise. Then she recalled who it was she was talking to. “Did Mackenzie tell you that?”
“A little birdie told me that. Now, why don’t you tell me about your lunch on Friday.”
The girl raised her hands. “It was lunch. High school. Uneventful.”
“Didn’t you say something about Ella that day? I’m sure you can remember. It was only yesterday.”
The girl just stared at her.
“Didn’t you call her an ‘adolescent’? Didn’t you refuse to have lunch with her?”
“I—I don’t remember.”
There had to be more to it. “What else did you say to her, Rachel? Have you been picking on Ella? Making her feel she wasn’t good enough to be in your school? Maybe making her feel she wasn’t good enough to live?”
“How dare you speak to me like that.”
Miranda leaned forward on the couch. “Is it true?”
Rachel gazed over at the archway to the foyer, as if she wished her mother would come and rescue her. Then she straightened her shoulders and faced Miranda again. “All right. I’ll admit what I said on Friday.”
Feeling like a prosecutor, Miranda rose and took a step toward the girl. “What exactly did you say, Rachel?” Wouldn’t hurt to double-check Wendy’s version of the story.
“I simply informed Mackenzie and Wendy that I no longer wanted to eat lunch with them.”
“If they continued to sit with Ella.”
She drew in a breath and closed her eyes as if her patience was growing thin. “Ella Skinner is a freshman, Ms. Steele.”
“So?”
“She’s fifteen. That means she had to repeat a grade somewhere.”
“And?”
“She’s not a good student. She doesn’t fit in with us. An upperclassman shouldn’t fraternize with freshmen.”
Miranda couldn’t help letting out a cynical laugh.
Rachel’s expression turned defensive. “She’s not good for Mackenzie to be around.”
Miranda folded her arms. “And who appointed you her guardian?”
Rachel got to her feet. “Are we finished? I have homework to do.”
“And you have no concern at all about Ella Skinner and her condition?”
“Of course, I do. But I’m not responsible for it and neither is Mackenzie.”
Miranda let out a scoff. “What do you mean by that?”
Rachel seemed confused. “I mean when I said I wouldn’t sit with them, Mackenzie got up and left the table. She and I had lunch together.”
Wendy had left that detail out. No wonder Mackenzie felt responsible.
Rachel’s thick brows drew together, her expression turning hateful. “Wendy stayed with Ella. She’s the one who told you, didn’t she?”
Suddenly Miranda went into Mama Bear mode. She put a finger in Rachel’s haughty face. “If I hear about you making any smart remarks to Wendy, you’ll be sorry, young lady. You understand me?”
Rachel’s eyes flashed. “Don’t threaten me, Ms. Steele.”
“Miranda.”
She glanced across the room at Parker and saw his look was grim.
Yeah, okay. She was getting carried away. She did that when it came to her girls.
“I just got a text from Hosea,” he said calmly. “Ella’s out of surgery.”
“How is she?”
“Still alive.”
Time to go. She turned to Rachel, wanting to tell her not to leave town. Instead she just said, “Thank you for the information.”
Leaving th
e girl standing in the elegant sitting room, she hurried through the foyer and out the front door with Parker.
Chapter Ten
Miranda’s stomach was aching with nerves as she and Parker reached the ICU waiting room at Brandywine-Summit.
This time, they found Lieutenant Erskine in his corner with a couple Miranda assumed to be Ella Skinner’s parents, Orson and Kelly Skinner.
Miranda hurried over to the group. “How is she?”
All three looked up at her.
Ella’s father had pale thinning hair and gold-rimmed glasses and looked very much like a corporate tax attorney. Her mother, the attorney from the DA’s office, had short blond hair and wore a look of exhaustion. Though professionals, they were in sweaters and jeans rather than business attire, probably the first thing they could find to throw on when they got the news about their daughter.
Erskine turned to the parents. “This is Wade Parker and Miranda Steele. I explained earlier how they’re involved in the investigation.”
“I know Wade.” Kelly extended a hand. “Thank you both for helping.”
“We’re very sorry about this unfortunate incident.” Parker shook with her.
Miranda did the same then asked again, “We heard Ella’s out of surgery. How did it go?”
Orson nodded to Erskine, and the lieutenant gave them the news. “The CT scan revealed multiple blunt force trauma injuries, fractures, and a ruptured spleen. She’s going to need weeks of physiotherapy, but she’s alive.”
Kelly reached for Miranda’s hand again and squeezed it. “The doctor said she’s going to make it. She’s going to be all right. We’re so grateful.”
“That is good news,” Parker said. “We’re so glad to hear it.”
Time to tell them what they knew. Miranda took a seat beside Kelly. “I’m afraid we’ve learned some of Ella’s classmates have been giving her a hard time at school.”
Kelly frowned. “Oh?”
“It may have been the reason Ella—was so upset.”
Kelly stared at her a moment, then shook her head. “That wasn’t the reason.”
“What do you mean?”
“It may have been part of it, as you say, but this sort of thing has happened before.”
“Before? This wasn’t the first time?”
Kelly closed her eyes as if forcing down a wave of pain.
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