I stepped up to Katy, who had the cabinet drawer open.
“We might get a hint of what it is if we find the file she shoved in here just now,” said Katy, turning her attention back to the folders.
It took us five minutes to discover it.
The cabinet drawer contained mostly administrative files, contracts, meeting notes, and school policies. But there was one student file awkwardly stuck in between the school’s annual financial plan and a file full of printed meeting agenda.
“Found it,” said Katy, pulling the manila folder out.
She placed it on Nick’s desk and opened it wide. We bent over the desk to read it.
“My goodness,” said Katy, running her finger along the name written in barely legible blue ink on top. “It’s Sally’s student file from ten years ago.”
Chapter Forty-two
The paper was brittle, and the ink was faded.
Taking care to not tear the documents, we went through them, one by one.
Sally had been a model student. Her attendance had been consistent, and she’d never been suspended or given probation for bad behavior or low grades.
What was so special about this file?
“Hang on,” said Katy. “Nick and Sally sit together for meals in the dining hall, don’t they?”
“I wouldn’t be surprised if something’s brewing between those two,” I replied.
“Why couldn’t she have asked him to show her this folder?” said Katy, frowning. “Much easier than breaking and entering at night.”
“There’s something in here she doesn’t want anyone to see,” I said. “Not even Nick Davies.”
Katy placed the last report card we’d been reading to the side and took out the next document in the stack. It was an admissions application.
I perused the hand-filled form, instantly recognizing Martha May’s signature at the bottom. On the top of the page were Sally’s full name, date of birth, and address.
“Strange,” I said. “Sally’s parents have a different last name from her.”
“Maybe she was adopted?” said Katy. “Or fostered. Some kids don’t take their foster parents’ name. I never did. Sometimes, it’s the only connection you have to your birth family.”
The second page was all about financial information, but all the boxes were empty except one.
The scholarship box.
“Sally Robertson was a grant recipient,” I said, reading the faded ink, probably written by Nick’s predecessor.
There was a second name next to hers, like it had been added hastily as an afterthought. Sally had shared that year’s grant with a Clara Smith.
I squinted to make out the small font next to the names.
“The school gives a spot to a child from a low-income family every year and that year they gave two. One to Sally and the other to this Clara.”
“How generous,” said Katy, with a smirk. “I thought Martha May was cutting back on expenses.”
“This belt tightening is new,” I said, flipping through the folder. “I’d bet you something happened recently that turned the school’s fortunes around. That will explain some of what’s going on.”
“I feel bad for Sally now,” said Katy. “She wasn’t lying when she said she’s in over her head with debt. Imagine being the odd kid here among these rich and snotty girls?”
“She wasn’t alone. She had Clara Smith to hang out with.”
I leaned back with a groan as a sudden realization hit me.
This meant that diamond earring I’d picked up didn’t belong to Sally Robertson.
An heirloom like that couldn’t have come from her family, if they couldn’t have afforded to send her to this school. A nurse’s income, especially at the low rates Martha paid her staff, wouldn’t be enough to buy a spectacular piece of jewelry like that either.
Did I pick up someone else’s diamond and bring it all the way here? Or did someone gift it to Sally? Or worse, did she steal it?
“Hey,” said Katy, flipping to the back of the folder and peeling a newspaper article that had been stuck to the plastic cover. “Check this out.”
“Fourteen-year-old private school student still missing,” I read the headline out loud. “County police to resume search at The Red Lake Academy tomorrow morning.”
“It’s another disappearance,” whispered Katy.
“Over ten years ago,” I said, scanning the article again, wondering if my tired eyes were playing games with me. “When Sally Robertson was a student here.”
“Clara Smith,” said Katy, reading out the name of the vanished girl.
“The second scholarship recipient.”
We stared uncomprehendingly at the article for a few minutes. My gut was sending red flags, like the evidence we were looking for us was staring right at us, but we just couldn’t see it.
I pulled my flashlight out of my pocket and turned it on.
“This is a good time to see if we can dig up some dirt,” I said to my friend, as I leaned over to switch off the main light. In the dark, I could see Katy fumble to turn on her torch.
“We don’t want to get caught like Sally did,” I whispered, walking over to Martha’s office and trying her door.
“Locked?” said Katy.
I nodded. “Too bad.”
Instead, I rolled Nick’s chair to his desk and sat down.
“Let’s see if Nick has anything in his files. Can you check the rest of the cabinet drawers, Katy?”
Katy’s eyes widened. “You’re going to break into his computer?”
“There are too many secrets in this place, and no one’s telling the truth.”
Nick had turned off his computer for the night. I turned it back on and waited for the desktop screen to appear.
But Nick was more security conscious that Brianna and Sam. Using my flashlight, I searched for written passwords on his desk or in his drawers but came up empty.
It was time to call for reinforcement.
I pulled my phone out and dialed Win’s mobile.
“Yes?” answered a sleepy Win. “Who? What? What time is it?”
From behind her, I could hear Luc groan and ask her who it was.
He’s going to kill me.
After recovering from her disorientation, Win stumbled over to the kitchen while I explained my problem, keeping my voice low.
“Are you on the same network?” asked Win, stifling a yawn.
“I think so,” I whispered. “I’m using their Wi-Fi. Does that help?”
“Good, here’s what you need to do.”
It took Win ten minutes to teach me how to access Nick’s computer, then she took over remotely. In less than a minute of running her password cracker, I had access to his files.
“Hey, did you find out if they found Clara in the end?” I asked, turning to Katy.
“Found another article,” she said. “And it’s quite sad.”
“How sad?”
“The police thought she accidentally drowned in the lake behind the school, but they never found the body and she was never heard of again.”
“What a way to go. Poor girl,” I said, and paused. “Hey, don’t you find Sally’s behavior really strange?”
“You mean, coming here at night and looking for her own file?”
I shook my head. “A real nurse would think twice about impersonating another profession unless they were prepared to lose their license. If this ever got out, Sally won’t be able to find a job anywhere. She took a big risk.”
“So, she’s not a true nurse, or she has a really good reason to be here.”
“Exactly,” I said, tapping the folder. “Either way, it has to be something to do with her past. I’d bet it has to do with this Clara Smith.”
Katy leaned back and rubbed her eyes.
“Do you think there’s a connection between what happened to Clara and to Brianna?”
“I can’t help but feel like there is one.”
Katy frowned. “Except
Brianna comes from a wealthy family while Clara was a kid on a scholarship.”
For the next hour, Katy and I poured over as much information as we could, our ears alert for anyone coming our way.
We learned the names of the school’s donors, board members, and got to know the staff members and teachers a little better. We took pictures of files we thought were important to send to Win to see if she could see any patterns we missed.
We didn’t have a lot of time. Staying in the principal’s office was dangerous, and we had no idea when Nick or that old guard started their day.
All the while, I imagined the party that was raging on up on the third floor. I desperately wanted to call the authorities, but I no longer knew who was in this cabal and who was innocent.
Part of me wanted to phone Tetyana and ask her to call her undercover contacts in the FBI.
It was at four thirty in the morning, when I was in the middle of a financial report that I heard the noise from the corridor.
Katy sat up and shot me an alarmed look.
I switched off my flashlight and hastily turned the monitor off. Katy turned her torch off, and we crouched silently behind Nick’s computer, hoping no one had spotted the lights in here, only moments ago.
The sound of something metallic clanging came from somewhere down the corridor, followed by what I thought was a suitcase being rolled along the floor.
“Do we have to?” came a tired female voice, echoing through the silent hallway.
“Didn’t you say you wanted to get yourself a new bicycle?” said a male voice.
“Yeah but I already do a full shift for Cathy. I’m dead tired, man.”
They didn’t seem to be making any attempt to stay quiet.
“Wait here,” I whispered to Katy and stepped up to the door. Through the glass, I could see two figures moving from the main stairway toward the elevator.
I turned the doorknob and gently cracked the door open.
The sound of the rolling suitcase came louder.
“Who is it?”
I nearly jumped, but it was Katy, who’d snuck up to the door behind me.
We peeked our heads out. Two people were walking away from us, their backs to us, but they were chatting loudly.
“Lou-Anne,” I whispered as I recognized the girl’s voice. Her companion was a staff member I’d seen before in the kitchen.
Katy and I watched as they ambled along groggily, carrying their water buckets and pulling along their mop bucket on wheels.
A loud groan made me jump.
It was Ruby stepping out of the elevator with Tom.
Lou-Anne and her companion stepped aside to let them pass, but didn’t exchange a word. It was like they had done this so many times before, that everyone knew the drill.
We watched Ruby and Tom stumble toward the main door to leave, while the elevator closed on Lou-Ann and her colleague.
“They’re going to clean up the evidence,” whispered Katy in my ear.
WEDNESDAY
Chapter Forty-three
“She can’t see you now.”
“Why not?”
“I told you. She said no interruptions today. Besides, she’s locked her door.”
Nick had been giving us the run-around for the past ten minutes. I was about to bang on Martha May’s door, when his phone rang.
He turned around quickly, relief in his face, as if thankful for the diversion.
“Yes, sir, I’ll put you through immediately,” he said to the handset and punched a number.
“Ms. May, the mayor is on the line,” he said. “Says it’s urgent.”
I tapped Katy on the arm and gestured for her to follow me out.
“So the mayor has direct access to her?” whispered Katy angrily, when we were in the corridor and out of earshot. “And we don’t? I swear they’re all in cahoots.”
“We need to regroup,” I whispered back. “And we need to watch ourselves until we figure out the relationships in this town.”
“My brain’s fried trying to figure out who’s in bed with whom,” said Katy, throwing her arms in the air. “I’m sapped.”
With only a few hours of sleep and my head buzzing a million miles a second nonstop, trying to crack this case, I was ready to crash too.
The night before, we had closed Nick’s office and returned to the third floor to catch Lou-Anne and her cleaning companion alone.
We had so many questions for them, but through the open doorway we caught Isabella and a handful of her posse still drinking in their corner. They were making caustic remarks and halfheartedly flipping wine corks and empty beer cans at the cleaners. Lou-Anne and her companion kept working, pretending the students weren’t there.
The last thing we needed was to start a catfight with a mob of unruly and drunk teenagers. That would go nowhere fast, so we returned to our room to hatch a plan for the next day.
There was nothing I wanted more than to tell Martha about the illicit drugs, sex, and liquor her underage students were being exposed to, but the more I thought of it, the more I felt she had ulterior motives.
Sinister motives.
There were dark deeds happening behind the scenes, and we’d barely scratched the surface.
Katy groaned as we got close to the dining hall.
“I don’t think I can face those kids again. Not after last night.”
The thought of sitting at the principal’s table with the girls snickering around us made my stomach turn too, but we were already well past breakfast time. I doubted any of them were still inside the dining hall.
The decision was made for us as the hall doors were locked, so Katy and I made a beeline to the kitchen.
The smell of butter sizzling on a pan wafted to us before we stepped inside.
The kitchen staff were bustling around, finishing breakfast and preparing for lunch. Lou-Anne was writing the lunch menu on the blackboard near the entrance. Clam chowder and garlic bread, she wrote in neat, big letters.
I looked away, feeling queasy. The overpowering smell of strong liquor and sick shenanigans from the evening before still lingered in my memory. My migraine was hovering near my forehead, threatening to break out any moment.
“There you are,” said Cathy, waving cheerily as she spotted us. “You missed breakfast.”
She was at the stove, in front of a gargantuan iron skillet. Harry, her sous chef, was next to her, frying onions in a pan.
“Sleep well?” said Cathy as we slipped behind the kitchen table.
“Gawd, I need coffee,” said Katy, massaging her temples.
“You two look like you barely survived a hurricane.”
I looked her in the eye. “You know exactly what happened last night, don’t you?”
Cathy’s face fell.
Nudging Harry to let him know she was stepping aside, she wiped her hands on her apron and trudged over.
“So, you know?” she said, as she sat across from us.
“Cathy, we smelled the alcohol, and we heard the music,” I said. “How did you think we’d miss that?”
Her eyes flittered down. She absentmindedly rubbed an old mark on the wooden table, as if she was too embarrassed to be called out on her silence to the students’ exploits.
“Only a few days ago,” said Katy, “I was thinking of all the ways to save up enough so I could send my girl here.” She made a face, like she bit into something bitter. “This isn’t a school. This is a lunatic asylum.”
Someone pushed two mugs of hot coffee toward Katy and me. I wrapped my hands around one, feeling its warmth, grateful for the pick-me-up I desperately needed.
I looked up to say thank you. It was Lou-Anne.
“I didn’t know you were the cleanup crew last night,” I said to her. “They left an unholy mess in there, didn’t they?”
“You were at the party?” she asked, her eyes wide in surprise. Something in her voice told me she’d do anything to get invited.
The staff had stopped working
and were listening now.
“Not for long,” I said, bringing my mug to my mouth.
“They kicked us out and slammed the door behind us.” Katy grimaced. “I guess we weren’t cool enough for that crowd.”
Sympathetic murmurs came from around the kitchen.
So they all knew.
And they had all kept quiet.
“How much do you get paid to clean up after those girls?” I asked.
“Ruby gives us five hundred dollars each,” replied Lou-Anne. “Hard cold cash. Whoever cleans up also gets the leftover alcohol, which is cool. And we get refunds for the empty bottles at the town’s liquor store. Everyone gets a chance to earn extra every semester.”
It didn’t take a lot to silence this underpaid, overworked staff.
“Does Martha know?”
“Nope.”
“How is it that she has never found out?”
“She never goes to the top floor. Anyway, we open the windows, work fast, and use lots and lots of air freshener.”
“It’ll take a lot more than air freshener to clean out the bad smell from this school,” said Katy.
“It’s not our business what these girls do,” said Harry, seeing our faces. “Besides, if we said anything, we’d get the sack.”
“We should have called the police,” said Katy, shaking her head.
“How long has this been going on?” I asked.
“Ever since Ruby came,” said Cathy.
“When was that?”
“About a year and a half ago.”
“And Tom?” I asked. “When did he come on the scene?”
“Same time as Ruby,” replied Cathy. “Maybe they’ve done this before in another school. He gets strung along by Ruby, like a puppet.”
“A modern-day James Dean. That’s what he thinks he is,” said one of the older staff members listening in. “Unless they’re gay, I swear all the girls are in love with him.”
“That man’s no puppet or James Dean,” said Katy, her mouth turning into a scorn. “He’s a pedophile.”
“Looks like a movie star. Struts like a movie star,” said the sous chef, with a huff. “But if you ask me, he’s nothing better than trailer trash.”
“The girls are being groomed,” said Katy.
Merciless Crimes: A Thrilling Closed Circle Mystery Series (Merciless Murder Mystery Thriller) Page 18
