by Lisa Jackson
“But—”
“It’s either this or juvenile detention again. This is her last chance, Julia! The judge ordered her to make a choice and she, smart as she is, took the school. It was also her choice to hang out with that criminal and be part of his crime. Her boyfriend’s not so lucky; doesn’t have a rich father to get him a lawyer. Wolf will be going to prison for a long time, so count your sister lucky. The plane’s landing within the hour. I’ve got to go,” Edie said, then, as if second guessing herself, added, “If you want to say goodbye, show up at the private dock on Lake Washington. You have the address.”
The phone clicked off and Jules stood in the middle of her messy bedroom. She couldn’t believe her mother was actually shipping Shaylee off to some damned isolated school for troubled teens, one that was in the middle of no-damned-where, practically inaccessible except for sea plane. Didn’t Edie know that beneath its pristine reputation Blue Rock had its own share of secrets? For the love of God, didn’t she know about Lauren Conway?
Maybe not.
Ever since yesterday, when their small family had met for lunch and Shay’s fate had been decided, Jules had been doing her research about Blue Rock Academy, but Edie probably hadn’t. Stubbornly, and in truth, because Shay was a pain in the ass, Edie had decided to turn a blind eye to any black marks against isolated school, preferring it to seeing her daughter sent to the adolescent’s equivalent of jail.
Jules jammed her hat over head, then glanced at her computer, a laptop lying open on the desk. It was still connected to the Internet and the stories she’d dug up about the academy. There had been a couple of reports of a teacher being fired and the rumors were than she’d been involved with a student, though Jules was still searching for more information about what had really happened. But the story that worried her most was about a student, a coed by the name of Lauren Conway, who had disappeared from Blue Rock Academy six month’s earlier. Was the beautiful eighteen-year-old alive? In hiding? Or dead?
As far as Jules could tell, no one really knew.
Only Lauren…
THE LIFE AND DEATH OF LAUREN CONWAY
by Lisa Jackson
Chapter One
Blue Rock Academy
October
Someone was searching through her bag.
Even over the rush of hot water from the shower, Lauren Conway heard some unknown person just outside the shower curtain and that someone was pawing through her belongings in the school-issued plastic bath tote she’d hung on a hook near the door.
Great. Just effin’ great!
Was there any privacy in this place?
The answer, of course, was “no!” Make that a big fat “no!”
But then, nothing at Blue Rock Academy was as it seemed and for a split second the shower scene in Psycho, where Marion Crane was brutally attacked, flashed through Lauren’s brain. In her mind’s eye she caught the image of dark blood spattering on the shower walls and swirling down the drain.
Don’t go there! For the love of God, don’t give into the terror! It was a movie. Nothing more.
Lauren drew in a breath, turned off the water, shoved aside the opaque plastic sheet and heard the curtain clips scrape over the metal rod as she stepped into changing room.
“Hey!” she started to yell, but the tiled room with its built-in benches and foggy mirrors was empty.
No one else was in the area.
The wide handicapped-access door was shut firmly, not the least bit ajar. The empty wash room was quiet, only the sound of water slowly dripping from the showerhead to the tiled floor disturbing the silence.
But someone had been here. She knew it. Felt it.
For the past few weeks, since the term began in September, she had witnessed the depravity of Blue Rock Academy, been privy to the cancerous and ever-growing degeneracy that oozed beneath the facade of propriety and benevolence and kindness.
She snagged her towel from its hook and noticed that her plastic bag was swaying just a tiny bit, more than could be accounted for by the air being forced into the changing room through the heat vents. Lauren swore under her breath. Someone had been spying.
So what else was new?
It wasn’t as if her bag hadn’t been searched in the past.
Quickly, her hair still dripping, she wound a white towel emblazoned with the Navy blue logo for Blue Rock Academy around her slim body.
The fact that someone was watching her convinced Lauren that she was almost out of time! She had to move fast and leave this nightmare of a school.
Before she got caught with the evidence she’d been amassing against the academy.
The door swung open just as she leaned over the sink to wring the excess water from her hair.
Missy Albright, the resident assistant for the floor, popped her too-blonde head inside. She was all smiles, apple cheeks and doe eyes. “Hey! Evening prayer meeting in ten minutes.”
“I know.” Lauren couldn’t mask her irritation.
“You should really get ready.” Missy had one of those tiny little voices Lauren found as nerve-grating as fingernails dragged down a chalkboard, and a perky, isn’t-life-just-soooo-great, attitude that was downright nauseating. Missy Goody Two-Shoes. Except that Missy would never have been enrolled in Blue Rock Academy unless she was in big trouble and her family couldn’t handle her. Missy, Lauren decided, was as fake as her size thirty-eight C tits.
“I’ll be there,” she assured the R.A.
Missy’s white teeth flashed in a well-practiced grin. “Dr. Burdette won’t be happy if you’re late.”
Lauren thought of the professor with sharp, unkind features and frizzy red hair starting to gray. In her early forties, Adele Burdette had the body of a woman ten years younger and the face of a much older woman. But then that’s the way she was, harsh one second, kind the next. An enigma. Yin and Yang all rolled into one tightly-wound personality.
“Dr. Burdette is the Dean of Women,” Missy reminded.
Big whoop. “So?”
Missy’s eyebrows arched at Lauren’s outward hostility. “I’m just warning you.”
“Yeah, I know.” Lauren said, trying hard to stay cool when inside she was falling apart, emotionally shredding. She was walking a tight wire, certain every second that she would slip and tumble to her death. If anyone found out what she was really doing here at Blue Rock Academy…
“Sooo, I’ll see you in the Rec Hall.”
“Wouldn’t miss it.” Because I can’t. It’s part of the rules. You know that, Missy. So just leave me the hell alone.
Missy slid another smile at Lauren, then turned on her heel and flounced off. The door swung closed and Lauren let out her breath. She caught sight of her reflection in the foggy mirror: Big eyes, pale lips twisted suspiciously, tanned skin from hours outside in the wilderness of southern Oregon. She was athletic and strong. She was also scared out of her mind. What was wrong with her? She should never have left Sacramento! To think she’d come to this place because she’d wanted to; felt compelled. What an idiot she’d been; convinced she was smarter than everyone else. Well, she’d proved that theory wrong: dead wrong.
You got yourself into this mess; you’d better damned well get yourself out. Her reproof was silent; she didn’t dare utter the words aloud.
Somebody would hear.
They always did.
All in all, she thought, with one last wring of her hair before twisting it into a knot and pinning it to her head, she’d been lucky. It was amazing she hadn’t been found out before because she’d taken some pretty big risks. She’d have to be careful. She couldn’t afford to draw any attention to herself. Not tonight. Not after seeing him today and nearly reading his damned mind.
God, that was scary. It was as if he’d known what she was up to; as if he’d all of the sudden divined that she’d lied to him and used him and intended to not only betray him, but expose him for the monster he was. She’d read it in the quick glance he’d tossed her way this afternoon at
the chemistry lab, a second frozen in time, an unspoken accusation that had hung between them.
Her skin crawled at the thought of what he might do to her. There wasn’t the slightest doubt that his punishment would be as exacting as it was excruciating.
You have to get out of here ASAP!
Tossing on her robe, she dashed down the hallway where a few girls were already heading toward the stairs. With a quick nod to Crysta Ricci, the tall girl whose long neck showed the tail end of a lizard or dragon tattoo, Lauren dashed into her room. Once inside, she threw off the robe and pulled on her jeans, T-shirt, socks and boots. More voices and footsteps emanating from the hallway indicated everyone on the floor was heading out to the damned meeting. Lauren couldn’t afford to be late, couldn’t draw any more attention to herself than she already had.
For a split second she thought about snatching the tiny jump-drive from its hiding space and tucking it into the lining of her bra, just to be sure it wouldn’t be discovered. She didn’t have time, not when she was certain a hidden camera mounted in the sprinkler head over the door was taping everything she was doing, even while she was dressing or sleeping. What a bunch of pervs!
She was so over this place! Sometimes she felt as if someone had been in her room during the night, that an unseen visitor had stood over her bed.
Just your paranoia talking.
Still… she couldn’t help wondering who was manning the cameras situated in all the dorm rooms and communal areas of the school. Who was behind the lens, viewing each and every student twenty-four seven? She wondered if the guy got off watching them all in various states of undress. It–-filming the students without their consent — had to be illegal, didn’t it? Or had the over-zealous and worried parents signed away all privacy rights on the sheaf of admission forms to this exclusive institution?
It was sick.
Sick, sick, sick!
And she was going to expose Blue Rock for the fraud that it was.
If she didn’t get caught first.
Tightening the laces of her shoes, she grabbed her jacket. As for the jump-drive with all the damning information on it, she had to leave it in the room for the time being. She only hoped to high heaven no one discovered it while she was at the stupid prayer meeting.
Zipping the jacket to her throat, she looked one last time around her room, then picked up her dog-eared prayer book and headed out. She locked the door to her dorm room for whatever good it would do, then jogged to the stairs, joining a flock of other girls who were filing down the concrete steps of the dorm.
On the first floor, she caught up with Nell. A sixteen-year-old from a small town in Marin County, north of San Francisco somewhere. Nell had been blessed with a sharp wit and extremely wicked tongue. She was a couple of years younger than Lauren, but about her size, with equally long, wavy hair. She was always getting into trouble and she was one of the few people Lauren trusted. If anyone could draw fire, it was Nell.
Lauren and Nell usually hung out with Joanne Harris, the guitar player who went by “Banjo” and Lucy Yang, the chemistry- scholar-turned-meth-addict who was now on the road to recovery. Banjo, Lucy and Nell were part of Lauren’s block, or pod, of students who shared classroom and recreational time together. They were encouraged to be each others’ best friends.
All in all, they got along, helped each other with homework, dished on the school, and were forced into the same therapy group where they offered up private feelings and secrets. Lauren hated that hour of the day most of all. She’d never been one to bare her soul and she certainly wasn’t going to start here.
It seemed most of the students had each others’ back. At least Lauren hoped they did. Now talking between themselves, they all hurried down the staircase where girls from other floors merged into the ever-lengthening stream of students winding toward ground level.
Missy Albright was near the front of the pack, her platinum blond hair as bright as a beacon in the night. She glanced over her shoulder once, as if to see if everyone were following, but her gaze flicked to Lauren before she reached the side door and stepped outside.
Lauren’s heart went cold.
She nearly missed a step, then caught herself.
She wasn’t singling you out!
“God, I hate her.” Lucy muttered, following Lauren’s gaze. “Missy’s a piece of work.”
“More than one,” Nell said, cupping her hands in the air over her own breasts. “Just ask her plastic surgeon.”
Swallowing a grin, Banjo shook her head a she adjusted the strap of her guitar. “Not nice.”
Lucy snorted. “Who the hell cares?” She held the door as the others, bringing up the rear of the pack, hurried outside to the coming darkness.
The temperature was below freezing as they walked along a curving, snow-shoveled path that wound through the frozen lawns and shrubbery of the campus. Blue Effin’ Rock Academy! What a joke! Set deep in the Siskiyou Mountains near the California border, the school had been built along the shores of a lake that now was choppy and dark, white caps stirring on the charcoal-hued waters. A seaplane, one of the few means in and out of this school-cum-prison, was tied to the dock, its pontoons undulating with the roll of the rough water.
As she kept up with the others, Lauren remembered her first glimpse of the school from the air. She’d been inside the noisy plane as it had flown over the rugged spires of the Siskiyou mountains, then circled to land upon the lake’s surface. In September, the deep water had been smooth as glass, reflecting the cerulean sky. Tucked along the lake’s rocky shoreline and guarded by stately long-needled pines, madrona and oak trees just beginning to turn russet with the change of seasons, the academy had been bustling with activity. Lauren had caught glimpses of students on horseback, others in kayaks on the lake, still others talking and laughing as they walked or shared a bench near the dock. Backdropped by rocky mountain ridges, the cedar and glass buildings of the academy hadn’t appeared the least bit sinister and the rumors that had brought her here, whispers of fraud and deception and even death, had seemed far-fetched, the paranoid delusions of a fractured mind.
But now, she knew differently.
Now, she had facts.
Facts that someone would do anything to keep hidden.
Shivering inwardly she walked with her friends along the lit pathways while the frigid air stung her cheeks. The sky was already dark with threatening clouds, dusk only an hour away. Winter had come early this year, a snowstorm knocking out any warmth of Indian Summer in one fell swoop.
While Banjo hummed and Lucy and Nell shared a joke, Lauren surveyed her surroundings. Tonight, tiny lights were winking in the gazebo and surrounding fir trees, decorated all year long for the outdoor vigils and prayer meetings that were held despite the season. Minuscule bulbs reflected on the snow; everything so outwardly peaceful.
A cleanup crew had just finished in the brightly-lit dining hall, and those students, too, were leaving the cafeteria to join the group hurrying through the gathering darkness to the large rec hall.
Like lemmings to the edge of the cliff, Lauren thought as she followed the pack up two wide wooden steps, then through a set of glass doors to the living area. Hardwood floors gleamed under the dimmed lights and reflected the flickering illumination of candles situated on tables and on windowsills. A chandelier of antlers hung low over the wide, carpeted conversation pit where throw pillow were tucked on the bench seats in front of a massive river rock fireplace. Classical music wafted softly from hidden speakers. Mozart, she thought, but couldn’t name the piece.
Tonight’s prayer service was standard procedure for a Wednesday night. Teachers, counselors and other staff members stood shoulder-to-shoulder with students as they huddled around the conversation pit. The Teacher’s Assistants, graduates of the program who had been asked to stay on, were scattered within the regular students, yet they stood out like sore thumbs. Missy Albright was one, along with Eric Rolfe who, Lauren thought, could be the poster boy for
the Aryan race with his clipped blond hair and hard blue eyes. Then there was Roberto Ortega and Kaci Donahue. Roberto seemed nice enough, his grin was always quick and he actually helped the students, though, because of his status as a teacher’s assistant, Lauren didn’t trust him. As for Kaci Donahue, the jury was still out on the tall brunette. Friend or foe? Who knew? Lauren’s problem with Kaci was the company she kept. Though she tried to hide it, Kaci had a thing for Rolfe, which was decidedly against the rules.
And what about you? Don’t be throwing stones, Lauren. It wasn’t your most brilliant move getting involved with him, now, was it?
Despite the cold, she felt heat flood her cheeks as Banjo bumped against her. “Sorry,” Banjo whispered.
“No problem.” Lauren forced her gaze to the conversation pit.
Reverend Tobias Lynch, headmaster for the boys as well as the religion and theology teacher for all students, took his position in front of the towering rock wall. He was a tall, imposing man whose sharp eyes that saw more than he let on. He warmed the back of his legs on the fire while his Bible lay open in his hands.
Lynch was flanked by Professor Burdette, headmistress for the girls, and Doctor Tyeesha Williams, a stately African-American woman with impossibly white teeth and a will of iron. Lauren had come to think of them as his right-hand women and figured Lynch preferred female company… well, she knew he did. Wasn’t it obvious?
She couldn’t help but wonder what Mrs. Lynch thought about his close relationship with his colleagues.
“Come on… move in… everyone, please, take your places,” Lynch said as students squirmed into their favorite spots. There were around forty-five kids enrolled in the program, all teens whose parents were desperate to turn their “troubled” children’s lives around.
The crowd was restless and whispering, but one long, “Shhhh,” from Reverend Lynch and they quieted just as the music slowly faded. “Welcome to the prayer circle,” he said, offering a beatific smile as he moved his gaze over the ring of faces. “It’s good to see you all here.” His voice was low and soft, expressing compassion. “We all need to take a moment to look back on this day and forward to the next. Did you make the best of this one? Will you strive harder tomorrow?” He was nodding now. Agreeing with himself and getting into it. “I’m sure you will. We can never take God’s gifts for granted, not for one solitary second.” His smile finally touched his eyes and without looking at the open page of his Bible he said, “Do not let love and loyalty forsake you, bind them around your neck, write them on the table of your heart.”
