Get even, p.7
Get Even, page 7
“Come on,” Kitty said, putting an arm around Olivia. “I’ll take you.”
Kitty took one last glance over her shoulder as she escorted a groaning Olivia out of the café. The rest of the patrons had returned to their conversations, but three heads were turned in their direction. Barbara Ann’s stare was hard; Ronny’s, dumbfounded. And in the back of the café, Theo Baranski gazed at her, eyes wide, watching their retreat.
“How much longer?” Margot asked. Bree could picture her, manically checking the clock every thirty seconds, paranoid that they were behind schedule.
“Two minutes.”
“Finally,” Margot said sharply.
“Not my fault his ancient laptop was so slow. Freaking PCs.”
A soft chime echoed through Bree’s earpiece. “Kitty just texted,” Margot said. “She and Olivia left Ronny at the Coffee Clash. His drive time is approximately sixteen minutes in rush hour traffic.”
“Then I’ll be out of here in five.”
Bree stared at the download progress bar, which kept changing its mind as to how much time was left. It taunted her, jumping from thirty seconds, to sixty, to ninety, then back to thirty. Come on. Her fingers tapped impatiently against Ronny’s desk as she glared at the screen, mentally threatening it with physical harm if it didn’t hurry up and finish.
“Cut it out,” Margot said, her voice edgy. She was losing her cool.
“Cut what out?”
“Tapping your fingers against the desk.”
Bree paused. “How can you possib—” She stopped midword as a faint creak broke the silence of the room, followed by an almost imperceptible patter, like bare feet retreating down the hall.
“What’s wrong?” Margot asked.
“Sh!” Bree sat frozen, listening, but the sound of footsteps had vanished. Silently, she swung Ronny’s desk chair around to face the bedroom door, which was closed.
Did she close the door? She was pretty sure she’d left it open. Maybe a breeze swung it shut? Or maybe the DeStefanos had a cat?
Or maybe it was a person.
“What happened?” Margot whispered. “Bree, are you—”
DING! The download was complete. Finally.
“Nothing,” Bree said, quickly ejecting the flash drive. “Just thought I heard something.”
“Okay,” Margot said slowly. “Did you delete the video of Mika?”
Bree swirled the mouse across the screen and with a few deft clicks, the video was erased from Ronny’s computer permanently. “Done,” she said. “Now I’m getting the fuck out of here.”
“You have twelve minutes,” Margot said.
Bree’s hands trembled as she eased Ronny’s desk chair back to the exact spot she’d found it. Why was she so skittish? If anyone had been in the house and actually seen her at Ronny’s desk, they would have either confronted her on the spot or called 911. A distinct lack of blaring sirens in the distance meant it had all been a figment of her imagination.
She carefully threaded her way back to the bedroom door and was about to swing it open with her foot when something caught her eye. Taped to the back of Ronny’s door was a list of names.
Coach Creed
Rex Cavanaugh
Theodore Baranski
What possible connection could exist between a dickwad teacher, the biggest douche at school, and a bullying victim?
“Ten minutes,” Margot said. “Are you done yet?”
Bree shook her head and nudged the door open. Whatever the reason, it didn’t affect the mission. “Exiting the house now.”
As soon as her car rounded the corner at the end of the block, Kitty held up her hand for a high five. “Nice job.”
Olivia slapped Kitty’s hand with all the ferocity of a butterfly. Oh well, at least she was getting into the spirit. “It felt so good. I mean, it’s like those interactive theater shows in New York. The exhilaration is absolutely amazing and . . .” She paused midthought. “Hey, did you know that barista?”
“No,” Kitty lied.
“Oh. I thought I saw you guys talking,” Olivia said, still chattering away at a mile a minute. “Sorry if I interrupted, but I couldn’t take another second of Ronny.”
“Did you see Theo in the café?” Kitty asked, desperate to change the subject. She didn’t want to talk about Barbara Ann.
“Theo Baranski?”
Kitty nodded. “In the back corner.”
“Huh,” Olivia said.
Kitty pictured the look on Theo’s face as she escorted Olivia from the café. He wasn’t concerned or worried, he was confused, as if seeing Kitty and Olivia together was as strange and out of place as a polar bear in the desert, which might be a problem if he remembered seeing them together with Ronny after their revenge against him went public.
Kitty’s cell phone buzzed. She waited for a stoplight, then checked her incoming text. “Margot says that Bree successfully downloaded his hard drive and deleted the video,” she said. “I’d say, phase one accomplished.”
Olivia sighed as Kitty rolled up in front of her apartment building, visibly relieved that her role was over. “I’ll see you at school tomorrow?”
“Absolutely.” Kitty nodded. “Don’t get mad.”
Olivia smiled. “Get even.”
THIRTEEN
KITTY WAS FIDGETY AS SHE DROVE TO SCHOOL THE NEXT morning, unable to get Ronny DeStefano out of her head.
Phase one was complete—they had Ronny’s hard drive. Now they just needed some juicy tidbit of a secret on his computer that they could use against him. But time was short. How long would it be before he realized his video had been deleted? Maybe it had been a mistake to jump so quickly into this mission without a complete plan of action? It was so unlike her to do so, but with Mika’s reputation on the line, she hadn’t really had a choice.
Kitty turned onto DuMaine Drive, and instantly all thoughts of Ronny DeStefano faded away.
At least half a dozen police cruisers lined the streets around campus. An officer stood sentry at the main entrance, and as she pulled into the upperclassmen’s parking lot, she found another officer at the side door.
For a split second, Kitty thought about fleeing the scene. She could pretend to be sick, tell her mom she had food poisoning, fake a migraine, anything that would get her out of school for the day. There could only be one reason for the police, one thing that could bring them to campus for the second time in less than a week. Father Uberti had found out who was behind DGM.
Logic kicked in almost immediately. Why would they wait to arrest her at school? Wouldn’t they show up at her house and bring her in for questioning? Taking a deep breath, Kitty pulled into her usual parking spot.
Four police officers ringed Mrs. Baggott’s desk as Kitty entered the office to prep the morning announcements. Their eyes were alert and the walkies attached to their shoulders crackled with unceasing chatter.
Father Uberti pointed his finger menacingly at the school secretary. “I don’t care what the Archdiocese says. If they won’t do anything, I’m taking matters into my own hands.”
“Of course, Father,” Mrs. Baggott said, eyeing the police officers.
Father Uberti’s head whipped around as soon as Kitty approached. “No announcements today,” he barked. “I’m taking care of it.”
John was already at his desk for first-period religion when Bree plopped into her chair.
“Why does school have to start so early?” she asked, stifling a yawn. She hadn’t slept well after her experience in Ronny’s bedroom, unable to shake the feeling that someone had seen her in the house. She’d tossed and turned most of the night, convinced the cops would kick down her door any moment and take her into custody.
“Think of it this way,” he said, tossing a lock of hair out of his eyes. “Every day when you mosey in five seconds before the bell, I’ve already been here for half an hour.”
“Bite me,” Bree said.
The final bell rang and, much to Bree’s surprise, Sister Augustinia, their perpetually late religion teacher, was already at her desk, looking pale and fretful.
“Settle down, class,” she said, the usual airy-fairiness gone from her voice. She sounded almost hoarse, as if she’d been screaming. Or crying. “We have a special announcement coming from Father Uberti.”
Bree went rigid. A special announcement? Did that mean he’d gotten credible information on Don’t Get Mad?
There was no time to speculate, no time to worry or even plan an escape route. The loudspeaker buzzed to life.
“Attention, students of Bishop DuMaine Preparatory School,” Father Uberti began. “Last night, a member of our student body was found dead in his home. The scene is being investigated as a homicide. The victim’s name is Ronny DeStefano.”
FOURTEEN
MARGOT STARED UP AT THE LOUDSPEAKER. IT WAS AS IF the world had fallen away, swallowed up by a dark void, leaving only the voice of Father Uberti filtered through a box on the wall.
The room began to swim around her, fading in and out of view. Her hands tingled, her neck and chest broke out in a heavy sweat, and her breaths came in frantic gasps, as if an invisible hand were choking her.
Margot clamped her eyes shut. Quiet the mind, quiet the panic.
The world went silent. Occasionally, a word or phrase would jump out in Father Uberti’s sharp, nasal voice. “Investigation.” “Police presence.” “Interrogation.” It seemed so far away, and yet as her brain labored to internalize the words’ meaning, the reality of what was happening overwhelmed her with a new emotion: fear.
“Crazy, huh?”
In an instant, Margot was back in the world. Back at Bishop DuMaine. Back in AP Government, gazing at Logan.
“Yeah,” Margot managed to croak. “Crazy.”
“Did you know him?”
Margot shook her head. “I never met him.” Technically, it wasn’t a lie.
“Tall guy?” Logan continued. “About my height? Sandy blond hair with too much gel and bad acne?”
That described Ronny to perfection. “I don’t know.”
“Right. Sorry.” Logan smiled sheepishly. “You just said that.”
There was something comforting about the affable face, the blue eyes that immediately calmed her down.
“We have reason to believe,” Father Uberti continued, “that the group known as DGM was involved. Once again, if you have any information as to the identities of those behind DGM, we ask that you come forward as soon as possible.”
The loudspeaker fell silent.
Margot stared blankly at her desk. They couldn’t seriously think DGM or anyone at Bishop DuMaine had a hand in Ronny’s death, could they?
Logan cleared his throat. “You’re vibrating.”
Margot opened her backpack and rooted around for her cell phone. “Sorry. Getting a text.”
The very words were foreign to her. No one ever texted her except her parents, and absolutely never during school. Considering the bomb that had just been dropped on Bishop DuMaine, Margot wasn’t the least bit surprised to see that the text was from Kitty.
We need to meet ASAP. Lunch today by the baseball field?
Margot paused. It was a bad idea for the four of them to meet on campus, but Kitty was right. Something horrific had happened, and they needed to get to the bottom of it.
She texted back.
Computer lab at lunch. I have a key. Regular greeting.
Kitty stood next to the water fountain, trying to look as casual as possible. The hallway in front of the computer lab was deserted, but Kitty was taking no chances. If she was pacing by the door to the lab, that might appear suspicious, but using the water fountain, checking the time on her watch, was innocent enough.
She was being overly cautious, but after what had happened that morning, she needed to be.
The door at the far end of the hall creaked and Kitty immediately bent over and pushed the bar on the front of the water fountain, as if she’d been passing through and just happened to need a drink.
Kitty looked up, relieved to see Margot hustling down the hall.
Without breaking stride, she yanked a key out of her pocket and unlocked the door. Margot ducked inside, and after a quick glance down either side of the corridor to make sure they were alone, Kitty followed.
The computer lab was dark, lit only by the dull glow of screen savers from a wall of monitors. The whole effect was surreal, and Kitty felt the skin on the back of her neck prickle.
“Are you sure no one will find us in here?” Kitty asked, desperate to fill the uncomfortable silence.
Margot pulled out a chair. “Only the yearbook class uses this lab anymore. The rest of the time the door’s locked.”
“You didn’t answer my question.”
Margot looked up at her coldly. “No one’s ever bothered me in here.”
Knock. Pause. Knock. Knock. Knock.
“Am I late?” Olivia asked breathlessly as she dashed into the lab. “I had to give Amber the slip and then I couldn’t find the room.” She ran a hand through her short hair. Before Kitty could stop herself, she pictured that hand caressing Donté’s face, his bare chest. . . .
“Bree’s not here yet,” Margot said. She glanced at the clock on the wall. “Thirty seconds or we start without her.”
As if on cue, the doorknob shook, then the DGM knock sounded on the lab door. Forceful and strong, the kind of announcement that said Bree didn’t care who heard her.
Kitty whipped open the door and Bree stepped unhurriedly inside.
“I’m here,” she said. “Let’s get this over with so I can finish my lunch.”
“This isn’t a joke, Bree,” Margot snapped.
Bree walked to the nearest chair. “If you say so.” She deposited her cell phone on a desk, propped her combat boots up next to it, and tilted the chair back.
From beside her, Bree’s cell phone rang. She silenced the call and tossed it back on the desk. “It’s just John,” she said without being prompted.
“Does he know where you are?” Kitty asked.
Bree arched an eyebrow. “We’re not attached at the hip.”
The phone rang again. This time Bree sent the call to voice mail.
Olivia cocked her head. “Are you sure about that?”
“Are you sure,” Bree said drily, “you like your face that way? Because I could rearrange it for you.”
“Guys,” Kitty said, stepping between them. She kept her eye on the phone, wondering if the third time was the charm. “No fighting. We’ve got enough problems.”
“Have you heard the rumors?” Olivia asked, switching gears. “Rex said Ronny had ‘DGM’ carved into his chest.”
Bree rolled her eyes. “How can you take anything Rex Cavanaugh says seriously? The guy has a set of gonads for a brain.”
“I thought maybe he’d heard it from Father Uberti?” Olivia pouted.
“Even if F.U. knows,” Kitty said, trying to keep everyone calm, “which I doubt, there’s no way he’d be allowed to share that information with anyone, especially not a student who might be a suspect.”
Olivia’s blue eyes grew wide. “Rex is a suspect?”
“Wake up, Princess,” Bree said. “We’re all suspects.”
Kitty held up her hands. “We don’t know that yet. Ronny’s death could have been an accident. Or suicide.”
Margot glanced up but didn’t say a word.
“Come off it, Kitty.” Bree kicked her feet off the table. “The police wouldn’t show up at school for an accidental death. Ronny was killed, plain and simple. They must suspect someone at school is involved or they wouldn’t be here.”
“Poor Ronny,” Olivia whimpered.
Bree snorted. “Poor Ronny? The guy’s a sexual predator. I’d say he got what he deserved.”
Olivia sucked in a sharp breath. “Don’t say that. Don’t ever say that.”
“I think what Bree means,” Kitty said, with a cutting look in her direction, “is that maybe it’s not a surprise Ronny was murdered?”
“Murdered . . .” Olivia jumped to her feet. “We have to get out of here. Right now. What if they find us? We’ll get sent to juvie. Oh my God, do you know what happens to girls like me in prison?”
“They become someone’s wife?” Bree suggested.
Olivia started for the door. “I have to go.”
Kitty intercepted her. “Olivia, we are not going to juvie, okay?” If Olivia panicked, Margot melted down, or Bree went rogue, they’d all be screwed. “We need to go about our lives like nothing’s happened.”
“Like nothing’s happened?” Olivia’s eyes were glassy, a clear indication tears were on the way. “I have an audition tonight for the fall play. How am I supposed to focus on Shakespeare when Ronny is . . . is . . .” Her eyes faltered as she wiped stray droplets from her cheeks.
“It’s just one more role, Olivia,” Kitty said. “Consider it an acting challenge.”
“I’m glad you’ve got your priorities straight,” Bree said. “Audition over murder. I’ll keep that in mind.”
Olivia whirled on her, her eyes wet. “What about you? You don’t seem to care at all that Ronny’s dead.”
Bree stuck out her chin. “I don’t.” Only Kitty could see that her lower lip trembled.
“Where were you last night?” Margot said from out of nowhere. Her voice was calm. Too calm.
Olivia caught her breath. “Me?”
“All of you.”
Turning on one another wasn’t going to help. “Hold up,” Kitty said. “We can’t go pointing fingers.”
“One of our targets is dead,” Margot said. Her lips flattened as she pressed them together, and she looked more angry than scared. “No one else knew we were going after Ronny. That makes us the most likely suspects.”
“Maybe we should go to the police?” Olivia said. “Tell them we didn’t do it?”
Kitty nodded. “That’s not a bad idea. It’s not like they have proof DGM was involved.”
Margot stared at her. “Don’t they?” She wrenched her spy-caliber laptop out of her bag, entered a password on the screen, and pulled up a browser window. Within seconds, she was reading from a newspaper article. “‘Authorities are searching for suspects involved in the fatal bludgeoning of a seventeen-year-old Bishop DuMaine high school student. Officers responded to an anonymous 911 call in the early hours of Wednesday morning near the Menlo Park neighborhood of North Fair Oaks. The victim sustained multiple blunt force trauma injuries to the head and was pronounced dead at the scene. He is believed to have been in bed at the time of the attack. No signs of forced entry. The entire household appears to have been asleep at the time and heard no sign of a struggle.’”
Kitty took one last glance over her shoulder as she escorted a groaning Olivia out of the café. The rest of the patrons had returned to their conversations, but three heads were turned in their direction. Barbara Ann’s stare was hard; Ronny’s, dumbfounded. And in the back of the café, Theo Baranski gazed at her, eyes wide, watching their retreat.
“How much longer?” Margot asked. Bree could picture her, manically checking the clock every thirty seconds, paranoid that they were behind schedule.
“Two minutes.”
“Finally,” Margot said sharply.
“Not my fault his ancient laptop was so slow. Freaking PCs.”
A soft chime echoed through Bree’s earpiece. “Kitty just texted,” Margot said. “She and Olivia left Ronny at the Coffee Clash. His drive time is approximately sixteen minutes in rush hour traffic.”
“Then I’ll be out of here in five.”
Bree stared at the download progress bar, which kept changing its mind as to how much time was left. It taunted her, jumping from thirty seconds, to sixty, to ninety, then back to thirty. Come on. Her fingers tapped impatiently against Ronny’s desk as she glared at the screen, mentally threatening it with physical harm if it didn’t hurry up and finish.
“Cut it out,” Margot said, her voice edgy. She was losing her cool.
“Cut what out?”
“Tapping your fingers against the desk.”
Bree paused. “How can you possib—” She stopped midword as a faint creak broke the silence of the room, followed by an almost imperceptible patter, like bare feet retreating down the hall.
“What’s wrong?” Margot asked.
“Sh!” Bree sat frozen, listening, but the sound of footsteps had vanished. Silently, she swung Ronny’s desk chair around to face the bedroom door, which was closed.
Did she close the door? She was pretty sure she’d left it open. Maybe a breeze swung it shut? Or maybe the DeStefanos had a cat?
Or maybe it was a person.
“What happened?” Margot whispered. “Bree, are you—”
DING! The download was complete. Finally.
“Nothing,” Bree said, quickly ejecting the flash drive. “Just thought I heard something.”
“Okay,” Margot said slowly. “Did you delete the video of Mika?”
Bree swirled the mouse across the screen and with a few deft clicks, the video was erased from Ronny’s computer permanently. “Done,” she said. “Now I’m getting the fuck out of here.”
“You have twelve minutes,” Margot said.
Bree’s hands trembled as she eased Ronny’s desk chair back to the exact spot she’d found it. Why was she so skittish? If anyone had been in the house and actually seen her at Ronny’s desk, they would have either confronted her on the spot or called 911. A distinct lack of blaring sirens in the distance meant it had all been a figment of her imagination.
She carefully threaded her way back to the bedroom door and was about to swing it open with her foot when something caught her eye. Taped to the back of Ronny’s door was a list of names.
Coach Creed
Rex Cavanaugh
Theodore Baranski
What possible connection could exist between a dickwad teacher, the biggest douche at school, and a bullying victim?
“Ten minutes,” Margot said. “Are you done yet?”
Bree shook her head and nudged the door open. Whatever the reason, it didn’t affect the mission. “Exiting the house now.”
As soon as her car rounded the corner at the end of the block, Kitty held up her hand for a high five. “Nice job.”
Olivia slapped Kitty’s hand with all the ferocity of a butterfly. Oh well, at least she was getting into the spirit. “It felt so good. I mean, it’s like those interactive theater shows in New York. The exhilaration is absolutely amazing and . . .” She paused midthought. “Hey, did you know that barista?”
“No,” Kitty lied.
“Oh. I thought I saw you guys talking,” Olivia said, still chattering away at a mile a minute. “Sorry if I interrupted, but I couldn’t take another second of Ronny.”
“Did you see Theo in the café?” Kitty asked, desperate to change the subject. She didn’t want to talk about Barbara Ann.
“Theo Baranski?”
Kitty nodded. “In the back corner.”
“Huh,” Olivia said.
Kitty pictured the look on Theo’s face as she escorted Olivia from the café. He wasn’t concerned or worried, he was confused, as if seeing Kitty and Olivia together was as strange and out of place as a polar bear in the desert, which might be a problem if he remembered seeing them together with Ronny after their revenge against him went public.
Kitty’s cell phone buzzed. She waited for a stoplight, then checked her incoming text. “Margot says that Bree successfully downloaded his hard drive and deleted the video,” she said. “I’d say, phase one accomplished.”
Olivia sighed as Kitty rolled up in front of her apartment building, visibly relieved that her role was over. “I’ll see you at school tomorrow?”
“Absolutely.” Kitty nodded. “Don’t get mad.”
Olivia smiled. “Get even.”
THIRTEEN
KITTY WAS FIDGETY AS SHE DROVE TO SCHOOL THE NEXT morning, unable to get Ronny DeStefano out of her head.
Phase one was complete—they had Ronny’s hard drive. Now they just needed some juicy tidbit of a secret on his computer that they could use against him. But time was short. How long would it be before he realized his video had been deleted? Maybe it had been a mistake to jump so quickly into this mission without a complete plan of action? It was so unlike her to do so, but with Mika’s reputation on the line, she hadn’t really had a choice.
Kitty turned onto DuMaine Drive, and instantly all thoughts of Ronny DeStefano faded away.
At least half a dozen police cruisers lined the streets around campus. An officer stood sentry at the main entrance, and as she pulled into the upperclassmen’s parking lot, she found another officer at the side door.
For a split second, Kitty thought about fleeing the scene. She could pretend to be sick, tell her mom she had food poisoning, fake a migraine, anything that would get her out of school for the day. There could only be one reason for the police, one thing that could bring them to campus for the second time in less than a week. Father Uberti had found out who was behind DGM.
Logic kicked in almost immediately. Why would they wait to arrest her at school? Wouldn’t they show up at her house and bring her in for questioning? Taking a deep breath, Kitty pulled into her usual parking spot.
Four police officers ringed Mrs. Baggott’s desk as Kitty entered the office to prep the morning announcements. Their eyes were alert and the walkies attached to their shoulders crackled with unceasing chatter.
Father Uberti pointed his finger menacingly at the school secretary. “I don’t care what the Archdiocese says. If they won’t do anything, I’m taking matters into my own hands.”
“Of course, Father,” Mrs. Baggott said, eyeing the police officers.
Father Uberti’s head whipped around as soon as Kitty approached. “No announcements today,” he barked. “I’m taking care of it.”
John was already at his desk for first-period religion when Bree plopped into her chair.
“Why does school have to start so early?” she asked, stifling a yawn. She hadn’t slept well after her experience in Ronny’s bedroom, unable to shake the feeling that someone had seen her in the house. She’d tossed and turned most of the night, convinced the cops would kick down her door any moment and take her into custody.
“Think of it this way,” he said, tossing a lock of hair out of his eyes. “Every day when you mosey in five seconds before the bell, I’ve already been here for half an hour.”
“Bite me,” Bree said.
The final bell rang and, much to Bree’s surprise, Sister Augustinia, their perpetually late religion teacher, was already at her desk, looking pale and fretful.
“Settle down, class,” she said, the usual airy-fairiness gone from her voice. She sounded almost hoarse, as if she’d been screaming. Or crying. “We have a special announcement coming from Father Uberti.”
Bree went rigid. A special announcement? Did that mean he’d gotten credible information on Don’t Get Mad?
There was no time to speculate, no time to worry or even plan an escape route. The loudspeaker buzzed to life.
“Attention, students of Bishop DuMaine Preparatory School,” Father Uberti began. “Last night, a member of our student body was found dead in his home. The scene is being investigated as a homicide. The victim’s name is Ronny DeStefano.”
FOURTEEN
MARGOT STARED UP AT THE LOUDSPEAKER. IT WAS AS IF the world had fallen away, swallowed up by a dark void, leaving only the voice of Father Uberti filtered through a box on the wall.
The room began to swim around her, fading in and out of view. Her hands tingled, her neck and chest broke out in a heavy sweat, and her breaths came in frantic gasps, as if an invisible hand were choking her.
Margot clamped her eyes shut. Quiet the mind, quiet the panic.
The world went silent. Occasionally, a word or phrase would jump out in Father Uberti’s sharp, nasal voice. “Investigation.” “Police presence.” “Interrogation.” It seemed so far away, and yet as her brain labored to internalize the words’ meaning, the reality of what was happening overwhelmed her with a new emotion: fear.
“Crazy, huh?”
In an instant, Margot was back in the world. Back at Bishop DuMaine. Back in AP Government, gazing at Logan.
“Yeah,” Margot managed to croak. “Crazy.”
“Did you know him?”
Margot shook her head. “I never met him.” Technically, it wasn’t a lie.
“Tall guy?” Logan continued. “About my height? Sandy blond hair with too much gel and bad acne?”
That described Ronny to perfection. “I don’t know.”
“Right. Sorry.” Logan smiled sheepishly. “You just said that.”
There was something comforting about the affable face, the blue eyes that immediately calmed her down.
“We have reason to believe,” Father Uberti continued, “that the group known as DGM was involved. Once again, if you have any information as to the identities of those behind DGM, we ask that you come forward as soon as possible.”
The loudspeaker fell silent.
Margot stared blankly at her desk. They couldn’t seriously think DGM or anyone at Bishop DuMaine had a hand in Ronny’s death, could they?
Logan cleared his throat. “You’re vibrating.”
Margot opened her backpack and rooted around for her cell phone. “Sorry. Getting a text.”
The very words were foreign to her. No one ever texted her except her parents, and absolutely never during school. Considering the bomb that had just been dropped on Bishop DuMaine, Margot wasn’t the least bit surprised to see that the text was from Kitty.
We need to meet ASAP. Lunch today by the baseball field?
Margot paused. It was a bad idea for the four of them to meet on campus, but Kitty was right. Something horrific had happened, and they needed to get to the bottom of it.
She texted back.
Computer lab at lunch. I have a key. Regular greeting.
Kitty stood next to the water fountain, trying to look as casual as possible. The hallway in front of the computer lab was deserted, but Kitty was taking no chances. If she was pacing by the door to the lab, that might appear suspicious, but using the water fountain, checking the time on her watch, was innocent enough.
She was being overly cautious, but after what had happened that morning, she needed to be.
The door at the far end of the hall creaked and Kitty immediately bent over and pushed the bar on the front of the water fountain, as if she’d been passing through and just happened to need a drink.
Kitty looked up, relieved to see Margot hustling down the hall.
Without breaking stride, she yanked a key out of her pocket and unlocked the door. Margot ducked inside, and after a quick glance down either side of the corridor to make sure they were alone, Kitty followed.
The computer lab was dark, lit only by the dull glow of screen savers from a wall of monitors. The whole effect was surreal, and Kitty felt the skin on the back of her neck prickle.
“Are you sure no one will find us in here?” Kitty asked, desperate to fill the uncomfortable silence.
Margot pulled out a chair. “Only the yearbook class uses this lab anymore. The rest of the time the door’s locked.”
“You didn’t answer my question.”
Margot looked up at her coldly. “No one’s ever bothered me in here.”
Knock. Pause. Knock. Knock. Knock.
“Am I late?” Olivia asked breathlessly as she dashed into the lab. “I had to give Amber the slip and then I couldn’t find the room.” She ran a hand through her short hair. Before Kitty could stop herself, she pictured that hand caressing Donté’s face, his bare chest. . . .
“Bree’s not here yet,” Margot said. She glanced at the clock on the wall. “Thirty seconds or we start without her.”
As if on cue, the doorknob shook, then the DGM knock sounded on the lab door. Forceful and strong, the kind of announcement that said Bree didn’t care who heard her.
Kitty whipped open the door and Bree stepped unhurriedly inside.
“I’m here,” she said. “Let’s get this over with so I can finish my lunch.”
“This isn’t a joke, Bree,” Margot snapped.
Bree walked to the nearest chair. “If you say so.” She deposited her cell phone on a desk, propped her combat boots up next to it, and tilted the chair back.
From beside her, Bree’s cell phone rang. She silenced the call and tossed it back on the desk. “It’s just John,” she said without being prompted.
“Does he know where you are?” Kitty asked.
Bree arched an eyebrow. “We’re not attached at the hip.”
The phone rang again. This time Bree sent the call to voice mail.
Olivia cocked her head. “Are you sure about that?”
“Are you sure,” Bree said drily, “you like your face that way? Because I could rearrange it for you.”
“Guys,” Kitty said, stepping between them. She kept her eye on the phone, wondering if the third time was the charm. “No fighting. We’ve got enough problems.”
“Have you heard the rumors?” Olivia asked, switching gears. “Rex said Ronny had ‘DGM’ carved into his chest.”
Bree rolled her eyes. “How can you take anything Rex Cavanaugh says seriously? The guy has a set of gonads for a brain.”
“I thought maybe he’d heard it from Father Uberti?” Olivia pouted.
“Even if F.U. knows,” Kitty said, trying to keep everyone calm, “which I doubt, there’s no way he’d be allowed to share that information with anyone, especially not a student who might be a suspect.”
Olivia’s blue eyes grew wide. “Rex is a suspect?”
“Wake up, Princess,” Bree said. “We’re all suspects.”
Kitty held up her hands. “We don’t know that yet. Ronny’s death could have been an accident. Or suicide.”
Margot glanced up but didn’t say a word.
“Come off it, Kitty.” Bree kicked her feet off the table. “The police wouldn’t show up at school for an accidental death. Ronny was killed, plain and simple. They must suspect someone at school is involved or they wouldn’t be here.”
“Poor Ronny,” Olivia whimpered.
Bree snorted. “Poor Ronny? The guy’s a sexual predator. I’d say he got what he deserved.”
Olivia sucked in a sharp breath. “Don’t say that. Don’t ever say that.”
“I think what Bree means,” Kitty said, with a cutting look in her direction, “is that maybe it’s not a surprise Ronny was murdered?”
“Murdered . . .” Olivia jumped to her feet. “We have to get out of here. Right now. What if they find us? We’ll get sent to juvie. Oh my God, do you know what happens to girls like me in prison?”
“They become someone’s wife?” Bree suggested.
Olivia started for the door. “I have to go.”
Kitty intercepted her. “Olivia, we are not going to juvie, okay?” If Olivia panicked, Margot melted down, or Bree went rogue, they’d all be screwed. “We need to go about our lives like nothing’s happened.”
“Like nothing’s happened?” Olivia’s eyes were glassy, a clear indication tears were on the way. “I have an audition tonight for the fall play. How am I supposed to focus on Shakespeare when Ronny is . . . is . . .” Her eyes faltered as she wiped stray droplets from her cheeks.
“It’s just one more role, Olivia,” Kitty said. “Consider it an acting challenge.”
“I’m glad you’ve got your priorities straight,” Bree said. “Audition over murder. I’ll keep that in mind.”
Olivia whirled on her, her eyes wet. “What about you? You don’t seem to care at all that Ronny’s dead.”
Bree stuck out her chin. “I don’t.” Only Kitty could see that her lower lip trembled.
“Where were you last night?” Margot said from out of nowhere. Her voice was calm. Too calm.
Olivia caught her breath. “Me?”
“All of you.”
Turning on one another wasn’t going to help. “Hold up,” Kitty said. “We can’t go pointing fingers.”
“One of our targets is dead,” Margot said. Her lips flattened as she pressed them together, and she looked more angry than scared. “No one else knew we were going after Ronny. That makes us the most likely suspects.”
“Maybe we should go to the police?” Olivia said. “Tell them we didn’t do it?”
Kitty nodded. “That’s not a bad idea. It’s not like they have proof DGM was involved.”
Margot stared at her. “Don’t they?” She wrenched her spy-caliber laptop out of her bag, entered a password on the screen, and pulled up a browser window. Within seconds, she was reading from a newspaper article. “‘Authorities are searching for suspects involved in the fatal bludgeoning of a seventeen-year-old Bishop DuMaine high school student. Officers responded to an anonymous 911 call in the early hours of Wednesday morning near the Menlo Park neighborhood of North Fair Oaks. The victim sustained multiple blunt force trauma injuries to the head and was pronounced dead at the scene. He is believed to have been in bed at the time of the attack. No signs of forced entry. The entire household appears to have been asleep at the time and heard no sign of a struggle.’”
