“Thanks.” Jo looked at Hank. Something had happened. A girl didn’t just change who she was overnight without an impetus.
A phone began to bleat at a desk up the hallway, and the woman’s head jerked toward the sound.
“I’d better get that,” she said and scurried away.
The ringing stopped.
“The summer that changed everything,” Hank repeated as he settled into one of the chairs. He patted his thighs and sighed. “I’ll say it did.”
“Why would Kelly go on this path to be popular, then suddenly throw herself off the water tower?” Jo sat down beside him. “It hardly makes sense.”
“When does it ever?”
But Jo didn’t get it.
If things had been so hunky-dory for Kelly Amster, if she’d been plucky enough to want to give cheerleading a shot, why would she leave her mom a note to say “I’m sorry” and end her life?
“What happened to her between the end of summer and last night?” she wondered aloud. “Something so bad she couldn’t even tell her mother?”
“Maybe she told a friend.”
“Let’s hope,” Jo said, as the door to the principal’s office opened and a grim-faced Helen Billings emerged.
Hank and Jo both stood.
“I’ll take you to the conference room, and then I’ll get Cassie,” the woman said. “Her parents aren’t worried about her talking to you about Kelly. They’re more concerned about how she’ll take the news that Kelly’s dead.”
“So the girls were that close, huh?” Hank asked.
The principal sighed. “They were like sisters.”
She strode past Jo, opening the nearest door to the hallway.
Hank made an “after you” gesture, and Jo followed the principal out.
CHAPTER SIX
Their heels clicked loudly on the tiled floors as they walked past bulletin boards, glass cases displaying photos and trophies, and hand-painted signs welcoming students back, announcing an upcoming dance, and inviting tryouts for cheerleading, debate team, and various sports.
Jo found herself holding her breath as she walked. She might have turned a slight shade of blue, because Hank caught her elbow as they neared a series of yellow locker doors.
“You okay, partner?” he said under his breath. “Or are you havin’ flashbacks to pus-filled pimples and sweaty palms?”
Jo gave him the stink eye, and he chuckled.
He turned somber, though, as Helen Billings paused outside a locked door and pulled out a key. When she got it open, she gestured for them to enter.
Jo went in first, nearly running into an oval table surrounded by at least ten chairs. There was ample signage relating to taking PSATs, SATs, and ACTs, so she figured it was some kind of testing area.
“Have a seat, Detectives,” the principal said. “I’ll fetch Cassie and be right back.”
She closed the door behind her with a crisp snap.
Within five minutes, she returned with a teenage girl in tow: skinny and angular with dishwater-blond curls and red spots on her chin. She had shiny pink balm on her lips that she nervously seemed to be chewing away bit by bit.
“Detectives, this is Cassie Marks,” the principal said, making introductions. “Cassie, these are the detectives I told you were here to talk to you about Kelly.”
Hank and Jo both offered muted hellos.
Cassie’s wide eyes skimmed over Hank, fixing firmly on Jo. “What’s going on? Is Kelly okay?”
Jo looked at the principal, who nodded. She would do the explaining.
“Come here, sweetheart,” Helen Billings said, guiding Cassie to a seat and giving her shoulder a squeeze before sitting down in the chair beside her. “I’m sorry to have to tell you that Kelly has passed away. She was found near the old water tower, and the detectives are trying to figure out what happened to her exactly.”
“Did she fall?” Cassie asked, glancing from the principal to Jo, her expression pure shock. “Oh, my God, she didn’t jump?”
“That’s what we’re looking into,” Jo answered, which wasn’t really the answer Cassie wanted. “We’re as confused as you are. We’re hoping you can help us out.”
The girl hugged her arms around herself, withdrawing. “I didn’t think she’d really . . . I can’t believe she’d do it.”
“I’m sorry,” Hank said solemnly. “It’s hard to lose a friend.”
Cassie didn’t even look at him. She merely hugged herself tighter.
“How about we start over?” Jo said, sensing the girl clamming up. She could smell her fear: a mix of sweat, sticky-sweet perfume, and bubblegum lip gloss. She tried to put her at ease. “I’m Jo Larsen from the Plainfield police, and this is my partner, Hank Phelps. We’re trying to figure out what was going on in Kelly’s life that might have led to her death.”
Helen Billings patted Cassie’s hand, murmuring something to nudge her along. But the girl kept her head down.
“You were Kelly’s best friend, weren’t you?” Jo said, reiterating what Barbara Amster had told them. “You probably knew her better than anyone.”
Cassie breathed a soft, “Yes.” But that was all.
“I know it probably doesn’t even seem real that Kelly’s gone, but it’s important that we quickly gather facts. We’re hoping you can share what you know about Kelly’s last few weeks leading up to last night.”
“Does he have to stay?” Jo heard Cassie whisper to the principal. She was staring straight at Hank.
Her partner must’ve overheard as well. He shifted in his seat. The chair creaked beneath him.
“It’s all right,” Jo said. “He’s one of the good guys.”
But Cassie didn’t appear to relax.
Jo pressed on. “Can you think of anyone that Kelly wasn’t getting along with? Someone who might have bullied her, perhaps?”
Cassie pursed her lips.
“Is there any reason that she might have wanted to harm herself?” Jo tried again. “Think hard, will you, please?”
The girl said nothing. She just kept staring at Hank, as though he were Bigfoot instead of a slightly overweight, middle-aged man with a receding hairline.
“Was Kelly unhappy?” Jo asked, trying not to sound exasperated. “Did she tell you outright that she was upset, or maybe you sensed it?”
When Cassie didn’t respond, Principal Billings stepped in. “You are not betraying a friend, do you understand? You should speak freely to the detectives. They’re here on Kelly’s behalf, not to get you in trouble.”
Cassie nodded but continued watching Hank.
She looked terrified.
Was she afraid of men? Jo wondered. Or was it something else, like she wanted to dish about Kelly but only if it was girl talk?
Jo chewed on her cheek, trying to figure out what to do next.
Hank finally realized that he was causing a holdup. He cleared his throat and scooted back his chair. “If y’all would excuse me,” he said, “I’ve got a few phone calls to make. I think I’ll head outside to take care of them.” He looked at Jo. “You got this, partner?”
“I do,” she told him, grateful for his voluntary retreat.
As soon as he was gone, Cassie’s demeanor changed. The hesitation dissolved. She stopped gnawing her lips, now pretty much devoid of anything glossy. A big sigh escaped her, and her eyes filled with tears as she started to speak.
“This is so messed up. Why would Kelly be at the old water tower unless, you know, she seriously meant to do it this time?” Cassie stopped talking, and her expression turned angry. A great sob escaped her throat. “It’s all her fault,” she said. “She should have listened to me.”
Whoa.
Jo was taken aback, not by Cassie blaming Kelly but by the implication that Kelly had previously threatened to take her own life. It was what Barbara Amster had intimated before backtracking. Jo waited for Cassie to calm down as Helen Billings patted her hand and said, “There, there,” before proffering a crumpled tissue.
Cassie blew her nose, dabbing at her eyes. When the sobs had stopped, Jo could wait no longer.
“Did Kelly talk about suicide before last night?” she asked. “Was she depressed? Was something wrong?”
Cassie took her time answering. She rubbed a hand around her wrist, as if feeling for a phantom bracelet. Jo thought of the woven braid Kelly Amster had on her wrist, even in death, and she wondered where Cassie’s matching bracelet was.
“Did you . . . did you ask Barb about that?” the girl replied haltingly. “What did she say?”
Barb?
Not Mrs. Amster.
Jo raised her eyebrows. “Yes, I asked.”
Cassie sighed. “Did she tell you how freaky Kelly was being?”
“Freaky?” Jo repeated. “She did mention Kelly buying clothes she’d never seen before and dressing more provocatively. She thought Kelly was trying to be popular.”
Cassie sniffed and gave an exaggerated roll of her eyes. “OMG, that’s classic Barb. Kelly always said she was oblivious.”
Oblivious, huh?
“Why don’t you explain it to me then,” Jo said, since good ol’ Barb was so out of the loop. “How had Kelly changed recently? What was going on with her that had you worried?”
“How didn’t she change?” Cassie whined. “It’s like I wasn’t good enough for her all of a sudden, you know? It was, like, at the end of the summer break, she started acting like a stranger. She pulled away. She quit sharing stuff with me, you know, like she had so many secrets.” Cassie twisted a dishwater curl around her finger. “I guess she had better things to do than hang with me.”
Now she was getting somewhere.
“How did she pull away?” Jo asked, leaning forearms on the table. “Did she become withdrawn? Was she moody?”
“No, no, it was worse than that.” The girl angrily wiped at the tears sliding down her blotchy cheeks. “Would you effing believe she wanted to try out for cheerleader? That’s, like, totally lame, for one thing, and a total waste of time.”
“Why?”
Cassie made a noise of disbelief. “Seriously? Who would have voted for Kelly Amster? Girls like us don’t make cheerleader. We sit on the sidelines.”
“Girls like what?” Jo wanted to understand.
Cassie grimaced. “You saw Kelly’s house, didn’t you? I live, like, a street away. You know all those mansions across town?”
Jo nodded.
“That’s the Bubble. They’re the ones that have, like, everything. We don’t get the newest iPhones. Ours are crap, you know, brands nobody’s heard of. We don’t shop at Nordstrom, more like resale stores and GW.”
“GW?” Jo said.
“Goodwill.” Cassie shook her dark blond curls. “Girls like us aren’t cheerleaders. We’re only good enough for the spirit club or, like, the choir. Girls from the Bubble are the ones shaking pom-poms at pep rallies. But Kelly said somebody she knew could get her in.”
“Who?”
The girl shrugged and looked down at her lap as she answered in a quiet voice, “Maybe whoever invited her to that party.”
Compared to Barbara Amster, Cassie was the National Enquirer. She was full of headlines but slim on details.
Jo glanced at the principal, who gave a slight shake of her head. “What party?” she asked. “Was it held by a classmate?”
“Yeah, I guess,” was all that Cassie volunteered. She seemed to be dragging her feet, and Jo didn’t know why.
She tried again. “What did Kelly tell you about it?”
Cassie’s head came up, and she met Jo’s eyes. “She was acting shady as f—” She stopped herself, glanced at the principal, and tried again. “All I know is she got an e-mail, like, a weekend or two before school started. One of the senior Guccis was having a party, like, just for his squad. Kelly said his parents were out of the country or at their cabin in Aspen or Telluride, wherever rich people go when it’s hot.” Her expression turned sour. “Kelly was my fam, you know. We’d done everything together since we were kids, but she didn’t ask me to go. I thought it was, you know, a joke someone was playing on her, that she was being punked.” Anger narrowed her eyes. “I told her to swipe left, you know, not to do it. To go to a movie with me or something. But she went anyway. I can’t even . . .” She sighed, shaking her curls again.
Jo could tell Cassie had more to say, so she didn’t interrupt. She watched the girl’s gaze slide over to Helen Billings.
“You do know something, don’t you?” Jo said. Something she wasn’t willing to admit in front of the principal, perhaps?
Cassie fidgeted. “Can we be alone?” she asked.
Bingo.
Helen Billings looked startled. “You’d like me to leave?”
Cassie nodded, biting on her lip.
Jo felt her pulse pick up. “Is there a chance I can speak with Cassie privately?” she said to the principal.
The woman didn’t appear thrilled by the request. She pushed at her tortoiseshell specs, hardly popping out of her chair. “I told Cassie’s parents I’d stay, and I want to keep that promise.”
“I’m not a baby,” the girl said, frowning. When she realized that didn’t have the effect she wanted, she added in a more conciliatory tone, “Honestly, I’m okay. I just need to say some things without you, um . . . I don’t want to throw shade on anyone.”
The principal looked at Jo. “I don’t know about this,” she said.
“You could stand right outside, perhaps, leave the door open a bit,” Jo suggested, hoping the woman would go, hoping that Cassie actually had something worthwhile to share.
The woman paused, clearly debating the request. Only when Cassie uttered a soft but insistent “Please” did she give in.
“I’ll be right outside,” she said, getting up and patting the girl’s shoulder. “If you should need me, holler.”
The principal let herself out but kept the door open, as Jo had suggested, and stood so near the jamb that Jo could see the sleeve of her navy-blue jacket.
Then Jo homed in on Cassie.
She scooted her chair nearer to the girl’s, keeping an arm’s length so as not to crowd her. Once she was close enough, she touched Cassie’s bare wrist very gently, like they were friends sharing a confidence.
“You were talking about the party Kelly went to without you. Did something happen there?”
Cassie leaned toward her. “Yeah, it did,” she whispered, glancing over at the door as if to reassure herself that no one else could hear. Once the floodgates had opened, she couldn’t talk fast enough. “Kelly called and woke me up the next morning at five. She was bawling, saying there was no one else she could talk to. She’d, like, passed out at the party, and when she woke up, you know, she was in her front yard, lying on the grass.” The girl paused, her cheeks turning pink. “She said she hurt down there, and there was blood, you know, but she didn’t have her period. Her underwear was on backward. She couldn’t find her keys, so she sat on the front stoop, waiting for Barb to get home from an overnight job. She kept crying and saying, ‘Is it my fault? Is it my fault?’”
Jo’s heart skipped. “Did she think she was raped?”
Cassie looked confused. “I don’t know . . . maybe. She blacked out, she said, and she couldn’t remember everything. But she’d never . . . you know . . . done it before, so she knew the blood had to be because someone at the party had . . . you know . . . smashed her while she was wasted.”
Yes, Jo knew all too well.
“Why didn’t she call the police?”
“I told her she should, but she wouldn’t do it.” Cassie fidgeted. “She said she felt responsible. She’d gone to the party, right? She drank too much. Who would have believed her?”
I would, Jo mused. I would have believed her.
“That doesn’t make her any less of a victim,” she said.
“Doesn’t it?” Cassie replied.
Jo flinched.
Was that Cassie’s opinion? Was it how Kel
ly had felt? Or was it just the whole “blame the victim” mentality that so many in society harbored for any woman who cried rape?
“I thought she’d totally fall apart, you know, the way she was wailing when we talked,” the girl offered with a shake of her head. “But she didn’t want me to come over. She said she had things to take care of. I got worried and went over anyway, but she acted like she didn’t need me. She was stone-cold. I wanted to talk about it, you know. I even said she should tell her mom. But she wouldn’t.” Cassie paused, lifting a hand to her mouth, fingers shaking. “She said she realized she had, like, proof, and that she could get someone in big trouble if she wanted to. I wondered if there were pix or a video or something.”
With every divulgence, Jo grew more furious. She found herself taking a deep breath before she pressed on. “So did she tell you who threw the party?”
“All’s I know is it was a big shot, one of the Guccis.”
That was the second time she’d used that term. “He’s a rich kid?” Jo asked, just to be sure that they were on the same page.
“Yeah,” Cassie confirmed. “She wouldn’t tell me which one, even when I asked. I don’t know if she was protecting him or just feeling dope to be keeping a secret.” Her brow wrinkled. “Don’t you have her phone? Like, can’t you read her texts and figure it out?”
“We’re working on it,” Jo said.
Kelly’s pal didn’t seem to take that one well.
“So you don’t have her phone?”
Jo didn’t respond.
At first, Cassie looked worried, eyes buggy, lips parted. Then her mouth tightened, her eyes narrowing. “Maybe it’s better, you know, not to dig too deep,” the girl whispered. “Maybe you should just drop it.”
“We can’t do that,” Jo told her. Especially not after what Cassie had just revealed. “For Kelly’s sake, we have to look into this—”
“This what?” Cassie cut her off. “Is it better for everyone to hear that Kelly was raped at some Gucci’s party? Like that would change anything? If you meant what you said, that you were doing this for Kelly, you’d stop asking questions and leave it alone.” A great sob escaped her, and she started howling like the world had ended.
Walk a Crooked Line (Jo Larsen Book 2) Page 5
