A hike around the grounds could be useful—but braving the biting wind and the hint of ice in the air held zero appeal. Mom’s fault. The Athens-born matriarch of the Reilly family had passed on her preference for warm, sunny Mediterranean weather to her firstborn.
So why not save the outdoor activity for tomorrow? Give the textbooks for the classes she’d be taking another pass?
Especially trigonometry.
Math may have been a breeze back in high school, but cosines and secants felt like a foreign language at this stage of her life. Putting in a few hours over the weekend on—
The door opened, and a slender teen with cornrows and guarded brown eyes entered, toting a bulging duffel bag.
Her roommate.
Last she’d heard, though, the girl wasn’t expected until tomorrow.
But having an extra day to get acquainted before classes began was a bonus.
“Hey.” The girl stopped inside the door, lowered the duffel to the floor, and gave her a cautious once-over.
“Hey.” She stayed where she was. “You must be Kayla.”
No question about it.
Her “father’s” request that she be paired with a diverse roommate to broaden her exposure to other demographics and enhance her ethnic sensitivity had almost guaranteed she’d be assigned to bunk with Kayla Harris, given the limited minority population in the student body.
The very same Kayla who’d been Stephanie’s roommate during the other girl’s short tenure—and who now had an empty bed in her room.
“Yeah. You’re Cate, right?”
“Uh-huh.”
“They told me your name at check-in. When did you get here?”
“Yesterday. Dad dumped me and took off back to the East Coast.”
Kayla lifted her duffel again. “It’s not a bad place to get dumped.”
A predictable response, based on the information in the girl’s background file.
The seventeen-year-old junior from the impoverished north side of St. Louis was here on one of the few grants offered to promising students from lower-income families, established at the urging of Reverend Tyrone Wilson, a longtime member of the school’s board of trustees and the prominent pastor of a church on the north side.
Thanks to her strong standardized test scores—and Reverend Wilson’s recommendation—Kayla had been offered the opportunity to profit from the excellent education Ivy Hill offered. An opportunity her parents had encouraged her to pursue.
But while her record here was impeccable and her grades high, she wasn’t a joiner. Her name was nowhere to be found in the school’s roster of clubs or sports teams.
In other words, she kept to herself—and kept her nose clean.
If any student had been privy to inside info on Stephanie, however, she could be the one—even if she had been away on a retreat the weekend of the disappearance and wouldn’t be able to offer any insight about that.
Kayla hauled the duffel to her side of the room and heaved it onto the bed in silence.
After debating her next move, Cate leaned over and pulled a pack of cigarettes from her purse.
Kayla glanced toward her as the cellophane wrapper crinkled, twin furrows creasing her brow. “You can’t smoke here.”
“Who’ll know?” She shook one out.
The girl faced her. “I don’t want trouble.”
“So don’t smoke.” Cate shrugged and fished around for a lighter.
“Listen . . .” The teen took a step closer, panic flaring in her eyes. “I don’t wanna get busted, okay? The class mom can smell smoke like an elephant smells water.”
That would be Marian Howard, the pleasant, sixtyish widow who’d shown her to her room yesterday. The quiet, wouldn’t-hurt-a-flea type.
“I met her yesterday. She seemed pretty laid-back.”
“Not about smoking. Her husband died of lung cancer and she hates cigarettes. If you want to smoke, go out in the woods like my other roommate did.”
Ah.
Two useful pieces of information.
Kayla stayed on the straight and narrow—and she followed the rules.
Stephanie didn’t—and she disappeared into the woods to break them.
“She get caught? Is that why she’s gone?” Cate shoved the cigarette she didn’t want back into her purse, where it would stay. The prop had served its purpose.
“No.” Kayla turned back to her bed. “She ran away.”
“Yeah? How come her parents didn’t haul her back here?”
“She’s still gone.”
“You mean she, like, disappeared?”
“Yeah.” Kayla zipped open her duffel bag. “With her boyfriend.”
“That is so lit.” According to her research, lit was a common teen expression for amazing—but in view of the odd vernacular high schoolers used these days, she’d have to dispense her slang sparingly. Enough to sell her role, but not enough to make an inadvertent mistake.
“No. It’s stupid.” Kayla began yanking out clothes with more force than necessary. “She shoulda talked to Reverend Wilson instead of Mr. Evans if she had issues.”
“Who are they?”
But she already knew.
In addition to being a trustee, the reverend was also the school’s chaplain. Noah Evans was one of two guidance/career counselors.
“Chaplain and counselor.”
“Why shouldn’t she have gone to Evans?”
Kayla continued unpacking, keeping her back turned.
Several seconds ticked by.
“Kayla?”
“Just stay away from Evans.”
“Why?”
Silence.
“Fine. I’d rather listen to music than talk anyway.” Cate retrieved her earbuds, plugged them into her phone, and called up a tune from the latest teen heartthrob.
But she lowered the volume as she planned her strategy.
If Stephanie had gone into the woods to smoke, a hike around the property would have to move up on her priority list, cold weather or not.
And despite Kayla’s warning, she wasn’t going to avoid Noah Evans. Just the opposite, after her roommate’s loaded comment.
As soon as school started, she’d find an excuse to seek him out and see what he knew about a missing student who’d gone to him for guidance—but perhaps had gotten something else entirely.
“What do you mean, that’s it?” Phone to ear, Zeke began to pace in the living room of the high-end condo where he’d be spending his free hours until he finished the Ivy Hill job.
“I mean, that’s it. Confirmation of employment with the County PD. Period.”
Translation? Cate was at the school on official business. In an undercover role, from what he’d observed.
But why would she do that? She’d never had any interest in clandestine work.
He raked his fingers through his hair. “What happened to interagency cooperation? Can’t someone pull strings? Go higher? Find out what she’s doing there?”
“If I push too hard, they’ll want to know why we want to know. You want us to spill our operation?”
Checkmate.
Too much effort had been invested in this setup to risk any leaks.
“Fine. I’ll get my own answers.”
“Whatever she’s doing there, she won’t want to jeopardize her position either.”