“Somebody’s home,” Murray said, running his thumbs along the inside waistband of his pants before hiking them up a notch. “Let’s go.”
Frank tapped on the front door and stepped back to provide a clear view from the peephole.
A few seconds later the front door opened. A middle-aged woman with crunchy-looking blonde hair pinned back with diamond-studded barrettes blinked at them. “Yes?” she asked, shading her face from a sun that had barely made its entrance into the sky.
“I’m Detective Dean Murray. This is Officer Frank Merret. Are you the mother of Caydance Sanders?”
“Yes. Susan. What’s the matter?”
“Is your daughter home?”
“She’s upstairs getting ready for school.”
“We’d like to speak with her for a few moments.”
Susan clutched the side of her door. “About what?”
“You heard about the girl who was found last night?”
“Yes, of course. We were so thankful she was found alive.”
“We have reason to believe your daughter might know something about what happened,” Detective Murray said.
“We’re interested in talking with several of her classmates,” Frank added.
Susan looked confused but nodded and opened the door wider. She gestured toward a sitting room off to the side. “Wait here. I’ll go get her.”
Frank stepped in, observing the giant floral patterns that engulfed the tiny room. It smelled as if the carpet were made of potpourri. Or that eighty scented candles were burning all at the same time.
Murray put his forearm up against his nose. “Good grief,” he choked out.
“No kidding,” Frank said. He dropped his weight onto a couch that was less comfortable than it appeared. He lowered his voice. “Should we bring up the cat incident, see if it’s connected here?”
“Not yet. I want to keep it to this thing first, see what, if anything, we can get out of the girl.”
They both heard footsteps above them, some muddled conversation, and then the padding sound of feet coming downstairs. Susan entered, her daughter behind her, hands on her hips and attitude worn like an expensive accessory. “Caydance, this is Detective Murray and Officer Merret.”
“Am I going to be late for school?” she asked her mother.
“Just sit down, please. These men need to talk to you.”
She eyed them suspiciously, her arms now tightly folded across her chest. She plopped down in a floral chair and tucked her feet underneath her.
Murray said, “You’re Caydance Sanders?”
“Yeah.”
“Do you know Gabriella Caldwell?”
“Yeah, she goes to my school. She was found last night, right?” Her eyes grew round at her own words.
“That’s right.” Murray took out his notepad. “Did you see Gabby at school yesterday?”
“I don’t know. Might’ve. We don’t hang out.”
“So you’re not friends?”
“She’s not a cheerleader, so no. We’re not friends.”
“Are you enemies?”
Caydance looked put out. “I don’t think about her. She’s not on my radar. Do you get what I’m saying?”
Susan stood beside her daughter. “Caydance, just answer the questions.”
“I am,” she said, rolling her eyes up toward her mom.
Frank watched Caydance’s every movement. Her face looked at ease, but her hands were telling a different story as they wound and unwound a piece of thread hanging from her tight-fitting jeans.
Murray scooted forward on the love seat a few inches, giving his full attention to the girl. “We have reason to believe you might know something about what happened to Gabby.”
Susan gasped. “What? What are you talking about?”
Murray kept his focus on Caydance. “If you know something, you need to tell us. It’s a serious offense to lie to the police or to withhold information you know would help in an investigation.”
“Do we need a lawyer?” Susan asked Frank.
“I don’t know, ma’am. That’s not up to us to decide. We’re just here to ask your daughter what she knows that could help us in the investigation.”
Caydance stared at Frank. Frank stared back at her. The kid was brash, as if the word authority had no meaning to her. She tucked her hair behind her ears and examined her cuticles.
“Caydance, do you know anything about what happened to Gabby?” Murray’s tone was kind, familiar, as if he were a favorite uncle chatting about holiday traditions. The intent was to lower her guard, though she didn’t seem bothered by anything other than being inconvenienced.
They watched the young woman; several seconds ticked by. Frank expected her to deny it, but instead she grew very still, her eyes fixed on the carpet. Her mother seemed not to know what to do. Her hand slid onto her daughter’s shoulder, and she looked back and forth between Frank and Murray.
“Look,” Caydance finally said, “it’s Zoey’s fault. She screwed it all up.”
Susan knelt next to Caydance. “What are you talking about?”
“It wasn’t supposed to be a big deal. It was just a little revenge for what she said.”
“What she said?” Frank asked.
“On that Web site. About cheerleaders.” Caydance sighed heavily. “I tied her up, and Zoey was supposed to go untie her in like ten minutes.”
“I think you better stop right there,” Susan said, nearly out of breath. “We need to call a lawyer.”
“Mother, please. It’s not a big deal. If anyone should get in trouble, it’s Zoey. She didn’t do what she was supposed to do. She’s the one that left Gabby out there. And I even told Zoey that we didn’t know for sure if Gabby said that stuff anyway.”
Frank tried not to react in any way, but inside it was all he could do to suppress what wanted to come out. How could she be so flippant? Frank glanced at Murray, who played it cool, keeping an even expression. “I see. So Zoey was supposed to go untie her but didn’t do it?”
“I guess. I haven’t talked to Zoey. She was supposed to call and she didn’t, so I just assumed it all went down. I tried to call her and she didn’t answer her phone.”
Murray jotted on his notepad, keeping his tone easy. “So tell me exactly how it was supposed to take place.”
“Caydance, stop. Just stop. Don’t say anything else.”
Murray’s calm eyes turned toward Susan. “With all due respect, I don’t think this is the time to look out for your best interest. A young woman almost died last night, and if Caydance can help us piece together what happened, I think you should let her. But if you’d like, we can finish this up at the police station.”
Susan stared at her daughter, tears making her eyes shiny. “Caydance, you realize what you’ve done, don’t you?”
Caydance’s attitude seemed to have suddenly sobered up. Her hands dropped to her lap, and she studied her mother’s face without scorn. “I don’t know. I mean, we didn’t think this would happen. It wasn’t supposed to happen like this.”
“Tell me how it was supposed to happen.”
“Gabby’s just very . . . Sometimes she wanted to be one of us, you know? She’s nice and all that, but it wasn’t going to happen. But she kept trying to buddy up to Zoey, act like they had a lot in common. It was really getting on Zoey’s nerves. And then there was this thing on the Web site about how stupid cheerleaders are. So Zoey kind of pretended like they could be friends, and it was supposed to be a practical joke.”
Tears streamed down Susan’s face. She stood and backed away from the chair, shaking her head.
Caydance watched her mom for a moment, then looked at Murray.
“How did you get Gabby to go along with this?” Murray asked.
“Zoey asked her if she wanted to go to a party with us. Gabby snuck out of her house, and I picked her up a block away. I took her to the back room—”
“The back room?”
“That’s the rest are
a. That’s what we call it. I took her there and told her we were playing a little initiation game. I left, texted Zoey, and came home. That’s it.”
“You mean you left after you stripped her down and tied her to a tree?”
Susan stepped forward, wiping her damp face. She stood straighter and her eyes stirred with harshness. “All right, that’s enough. Is Caydance going to be in trouble? She told you everything. I think it was very courageous how she told the truth.”
Frank got up. “Yes, ma’am. Your daughter has nobility written all over her.”
Susan scowled. “What’s going to happen?”
“You’re not to leave this town,” Murray said. “The DA will decide whether or not to press charges. At this moment we are not going to take you in because you cooperated. We’ll be in touch. You need to make yourself available.”
“Is Zoey going to be in trouble?” Caydance asked.
Susan glared at her. “I think Zoey is the least of your concerns right now.”
“What your mother means,” Frank said as they began walking out of the room, “is that she is sure your first concern is for Gabby and her well-being and recovery.”
Susan opened the door for them as she speed-dialed someone on her cell. As the door closed, they could hear her ranting into the phone.
Murray and Frank walked toward the car.
“You’re going to make sure this girl goes down, aren’t you?” Frank asked.
“In a big, bad way.” Murray smiled. “And now, let’s go meet the Princess of Darkness.”
19
Kay didn’t have a showing until later in the morning, thank goodness. Something told her Jenna needed her. In fact, she would cancel the showing if need be. Maybe she should anyway. Maybe they could spend the day together talking.
Kay sifted through the pantry, deciding what to fix for breakfast. Just spend the day talking? Like that was going to work. But maybe spending any time together at all would be proactive in restoring their relationship.
She stood at the refrigerator door and looked at all the pictures held there by magnets. She studied the picture of Jenna at seven, dressed up for Halloween as a cheerleader. Times had been really good and uncomplicated back then. She knew the transition into adulthood would have its rocky times, but she never suspected it would be like climbing the Alps. Cold and harsh with little oxygen.
Kay opened the fridge and decided on an omelet. She paused and listened for any movement upstairs. All was quiet. Checking her watch, she realized she had time for a quick Starbucks run. She’d bring Jenna some green tea.
On her way, she tried not to think about how badly last night could’ve turned out, but her mind kept running over the scenarios. And she couldn’t help but insert herself into the scene. What would she do if Jenna went missing like that?
She shook off the dark thoughts and whipped into the Starbucks parking lot. A north wind snapped around the building as she tugged the door open. Once inside, she stood for a moment, trying to warm and compose herself.
She reminded herself that everything was fine. Yet fear nagged at her, and she wondered if Jenna was safe at the house. She’d locked all the doors, checked all the windows, turned on the alarm.
But still . . .
“Help you, ma’am?”
Kay blinked, focusing on the young man with shaggy hair, who kept swinging his head to the side, trying to get his bangs out of his eyes. Kay almost felt compelled to dig in her purse for a bobby pin. “Um, yes. Sorry. A venti green tea and a venti nonfat mocha.”
“Kay?”
Kay turned around. Shannon, Zoey’s mom, stood behind her, grinning.
“Hi, Shannon. Didn’t even see you in here.” Kay handed the barista her credit card and stepped to the side.
Shannon shuffled up, sporting a velour sweat suit. “I’m exhausted. Didn’t sleep well last night.”
“I know. Wasn’t that horrible about Gabby?” Kay asked, grabbing a napkin and stirrer.
“Yeah. And Zoey was being a beast to top it all off. We had to ground her and then she totally wigged out, yelling and crying. It was ridiculous. She was just headed to eat pizza with the girls. You’d think the world had imploded.”
The barista handed Kay her card and took Shannon’s order. Kay waited for her by the cream and sugar.
A minute later, Shannon joined her, running her fingers through her long, shiny hair. “Anyway, it was nuts. Is Jenna acting this way, all superdramatic and whiny and stuff?”
Kay hesitated. She wanted to relate with Shannon, but at the same time, she wanted to protect her daughter in every sense. “You know how teenagers are. Hormones can get the best of them.”
“I guess,” Shannon muttered. “I swear I thought I was going to pack up and leave for Hawaii last night. It was constant screaming for two hours. Finally she fell asleep on her bed and put us all out of our misery.”
Kay nodded, studying Shannon. The woman had always seemed so pulled together, so happy and energetic. It was like she was the eleventh member of the cheer squad. Today, though, Kay saw the familiar lines of regret, guilt, and worry on Shannon that Kay had seen many times in her own reflection. Maybe she wasn’t such a supermom after all. And maybe Jenna’s behavior lately, while baffling, was better than what Shannon was dealing with.
“Green tea and mocha for Kay!” the barista called.
“You drink both?”
“No. One’s for Jenna. I’m letting her stay home from school today. Last night really shook her up.”
“It did? What, is she friends with this Gabby girl? Zoey said Gabby’s kind of weird, a loner.” Shannon’s phone came to life, blaring out the Sex and the City theme. “It’s Zoey. She’s supposed to be on her way to school right now.” She flipped it open. “What is it?”
Kay turned and walked to the counter to pick up her beverages. She started to wave bye to Shannon but stopped.
Shannon grew pale right in front of her. She snapped her phone closed.
“Is everything okay?”
She shook her head, her eyes wide. “That was Zoey. She told me to get home. The police are at the house.”
* * *
About the time he usually arrived at work, Damien felt the need to get out of the office. It had become all at once stuffy and suffocating.
In one sense, it was exhilarating. The news was a driving force, and everyone was a willing passenger. But even though he was a newsman, he was also a guy with a lot of ideals. As much as he didn’t want to admit it to the people around him who were doing their jobs, what had happened last night shook him to the core.
This was Marlo. He’d grown up here and decided to plant his family here. It once was a place where dreams flourished and happiness bloomed. Now it had the stench of death.
By nine thirty, he’d made his way to a solitary bench in the middle of Marlo Park. In the spring, ten thousand dollars would be spent planting flowers and grooming the grounds. He’d once written an editorial about its importance after there was an uproar by some people aggravated that so much money was to be spent on a park.
But Damien had swayed their opinion. He’d pointed out that this was the heart of the city, and the roads were the arteries leading to the rest of the body. If the core of the city was not taken care of, what would be next? The schools? The retirement home? The churches?
The editorial had been so popular that the town created Grounds Day on April 1, and three hundred people showed up to work, saving the city five thousand dollars.
Even in its dormant state in the winter, the park held a certain majesty and pride. People still walked the sidewalks, kids still rode their bikes, and on a good snow day, on the south end of the park, a small hill provided hours of sledding entertainment.
But now, in the middle of the pristine park with its vibrant evergreens and neatly swept sidewalks, Damien felt betrayed, as if Marlo were a living, breathing person that had just slapped him in the face and blackmailed him to boot.
Maybe it
had always been this way and Marlo was just now giving up its bag of secrets. Or maybe they hadn’t watched over the town carefully enough, and slowly but surely a dry, putrid rot had set in.
He was weighed down like tree limbs burdened under heavy snow. He should’ve done more to protect Marlo. Pushed harder to not let complacency win at the end of the day. In a sense, the residents had decided that their pristine and tidy little town was incapable of foolishness and treachery. But still there was the question: had complacency been here all along or had it slipped in as an unexpected guest?
Damien considered the slow-drifting wispy clouds. That was the Marlo he knew and loved, pure and innocent, floating high above messy humanity. But when he closed his eyes, all he saw was a terrified young girl, shivering in the cold, calling out for help. Swirling from the harsh north wind were the angry words of this town, words jumbled with other words, whispers, indecencies. Behind the walls of every home and around every dark corner, gossip waited for its cue; its mad dogs were on the hunt for prey.
He had to stop this craziness. But how? Who was behind all this? And did it have anything to do with Gabby? Had the person hiding in the darkness of cyberspace come out in the blackness of night to strike in a new and evil way?
His phone vibrated in his pocket, indicating he had a text message. It was from Edgar: Get back now. Breaking news.
* * *
Frank and Murray sat on an enormous leather couch that dominated an already-impressive living room. Zoey Branson stood nearby, her arms crossed, doing something with her bright pink phone. Her hair was swept high in a ponytail, and her makeup sparkled like she was headed to a disco.
Frank found himself staring at the sixty-two-inch TV. He felt like throwing himself sideways on the couch, grabbing the remote, and counting their cable channels. Instead, he looked at the nine-foot Christmas tree weighed down by festive bling.
Marlo had always had a decent number of upper middle-class citizens. If they weren’t really rich, nobody knew. There was a certain kind of house you wanted to keep, a certain kind of lifestyle you had to live. It never seemed dangerous or excessive. It wasn’t by any means Frank’s cup of tea. He lived in a small, two-bedroom wood frame house that was built in 1942. But he never minded the people with more wealth. He was not bothered by having less. He had responsibilities, and those were his priorities that he would never, ever give up.
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