Page 34 of We Are All Guilty Here

Madison could still be alive.

Emmy ran up the stairs. She changed into a fresh uniformand twisted her hair into a knot on top of her head. She rushed back downstairs to the kitchen, filled a Thermos with coffee, and was walking out the door when the pipes in the wall rattled again from Myrna turning off the shower.

North Falls High School was a fifteen-minute walk from her parents’ house and a five-minute drive. Emmy used the time alone in her cruiser to set her mind toward the investigation. Drugs. Sex. Money. Everything they’d found so far pointed to Cheyenne Baker being involved in something she couldn’t control. But maybe they were looking at it the wrong way. Maybe Madison wasn’t a bystander. Maybe she was wrapped up in it, too, but of the two girls, she was the better liar.

Emmy recognized her brother’s blue Honda CR-V in front of the main building. Tommy had parked beside Celia’s hunter green Alfa Romeo convertible that had belonged to her father. She was one of six vice principals, so she worked year-round. Tommy was teaching summer school for the extra money. Emmy assumed if they knew anything useful about the girls, they would’ve already volunteered the information, but she should probably speak to both of them before she left.

She was getting out of her cruiser when her phone buzzed in her pocket. Aunt Millie was calling again. Emmy silenced the call and walked inside. Deputy Dylan Alvarez was waiting for her in the reception area. He was thumbing through a file, but he looked up when Emmy’s equipment belt set off the metal detector. Dylan was an attractive man, recently divorced, and usually hard to read. Her heart clenched at the hope edging into his expression.

“We haven’t found them.” Emmy felt his disappointment like a pair of hands pressing down on her shoulders. “What’ve you got for me?”

“I pulled their schedules. They both failed social studies during the regular year, so they’re doing summer school with Mrs. Burrough from eight until noon. Cheyenne was making up personal fitness and health, so she had to stay until four.”

“She failed PE?”

“Coach T didn’t buy that she had her period every day for an entire semester.”

“You talked to him already?”

He winced. “I hope that’s okay. I spoke with Mrs. Burrough, too. I figured it’d be good to get a head start before the kids show up. I can’t say I got much out of them. You know how potential witnesses get when bad things happen to complicated people. Especially children.”

Emmy had seen as much on Jack’s Facebook page. No one wanted to speak ill of the possibly dead. “Were you able to read anything between the lines?”

“Both girls were insular and very clingy, but only with each other. You see that around this age sometimes, where girls are intensely focused on each other. They feed off the drama of being isolated. Us against them. Nobody understands us. We’re smarter than everybody else. I’m glad my girl’s not too wrapped up in that. It’s not an easy way to live.”

Emmy knew that Dylan had taken the job as school resource officer in part to keep an eye on his fourteen-year-old daughter. “How about their teachers from the regular school year? Are any of them working over the summer?”

“Other than Coach T …” He paged through Cheyenne’s records and traced his finger down her class schedule for the previous year. Then he did the same for Madison. “Dr. Hardy is here. Chemistry teacher. Kind of a loon. Both girls were in Choral Club. That’s surprising. I got the impression they were mouthy. Mr. Loudermilk doesn’t play.”

Emmy knew Dale Loudermilk from her own high school years. He ran his classroom like a Marine Corps drill instructor. “Is he here?”

“No, he works part-time at the rec center during the summer. Won’t be back until show choir auditions the week of pre-planning.”

“I want to talk to Dr. Hardy before I go. I’ll track down Mr. Loudermilk on my way to the station. What did you mean last night when you said, ‘North Falls High does not have a drug problem’?”

Dylan nervously glanced toward the principal’s office. “Let’s get moving. Dr. Clifton told me she’d meet us at Cheyenne and Madison’s lockers over in the Arts Pod.”

Emmy kept in step with Dylan as they walked down the main hallway. She heard a loud whir start up like a jet engine. One of the janitors was pushing a floor buffer. Another man in painter’s overalls was using a roller to touch up the walls. Yet another was adjusting doors on the hall lockers. The system was on a year-round calendar. They had to do all of the repairs before school was back the first week of August.

It was no small task. The North Falls High student population was so large that the building was sectioned into pods that spoked out from the main hallway like a wagon wheel. The Ninth Grade Academy, STEM, English, History, Athletics, and the Arts each had their own pod that included classrooms, a counseling center and a vice principal’s office. The architecture predated the epidemic of school shootings. Wide open spaces and windows were everywhere, offering very little cover.

Emmy felt extremely exposed as they cut through the cafeteria, which was the size of an aircraft hangar and had a balcony that ringed the perimeter like a sniper’s nest. She heard pots and pans clanging in the kitchen. Like Emmy, Dylan was in full uniform. The heavy treads of their work boots and creaking equipment belts echoed around the cavernous space. Emmy was about to prompt Dylan to talk, when a woman wearing a paper hat walked through the swinging doors. She started stacking cutlery into the dispensers. Another woman came out to help. Word had clearly gotten around that Emmy was here. She had grown up with teachers. She knew how gossip could spread around a school.

She asked Dylan, “What grade is your girl in?”

“Jenna,” he supplied. “She just finished ninth. One B-minus in algebra, but the rest are all As.”

“That must be a relief.” Emmy lowered her voice. “I mean, because of the divorce. I’m sure it was hard on her.”

“She was upset at first, but once we got custody figured out and she had a routine, things got a lot better. You know how kids are. They need for things to be predictable.”

“Were you happy with your lawyer? I mean, was he fair?”

Dylan gave her a curious look as he held open the door. The hallway was empty. The lights were off. Still, he waited untilthey had some distance from the cafeteria to answer. “You don’t want fair in a divorce lawyer. If you’re asking for a recommendation, your cousin Taybee chewed me down so hard she’s probably still got some of my short hairs in her back teeth. That’s who you need.”

Emmy felt a rush of heat go through her body. She knew that the decision had been made. There was no going back now. “It can’t be Taybee. I don’t want my family to know how small I’ve let myself get.”

She wanted to slap her hand to her mouth, but it was too late. The words were already out there hanging like a shroud of shame. Dylan’s eyes went to the floor as they kept walking. Emmy felt heat burn her face. She couldn’t tell if he was shocked or appalled or feeling sorry for her. None of those options sat well. She shouldn’t have asked him such a personal question, let alone revealed something so pitiful about herself. They didn’t have that kind of relationship.

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