Take the Fall(64)

I clutch my hands in my lap. It was my first thought too, after I found the money. Gretchen had her own credit card and checking account. When she went shopping, that’s all she used. I can’t think of any reason she might’ve wanted that much cash unless it was for something illegal.

“It doesn’t make any sense,” I say. “I mean, she smoked a joint here and there at a party, but I wouldn’t call that a drug problem. She barely even drank.”

Aisha shakes her head in agreement. “She just wasn’t the type.”

“Right.” The sheriff nods. “She was valedictorian, captain of the tennis team, up for prom queen . . . not under any kind of pressure.”

“It would’ve gotten in her way,” Aisha says, missing his sarcasm. “Gretchen liked to win.”

“But it makes sense to both of you that she had a secret boyfriend no one else knew about?”

I press my lips together. Because it makes sense that she would keep it from everyone but me.

“Sonia, you were closest with Gretchen.” His face is stern. “But you’ve suggested there were things she didn’t always tell you.”

Obviously. She hid a whole relationship from me. But he’s right; there were things she kept to herself. Gretchen would never let me touch her phone, making sure it was locked every time she set it down. And the night of the party I drove home in silence while she seethed next to me, never saying a word about what happened.

“I know there were.”

“How do you know? Did she exhibit odd or uncharacteristic behavior? Sneak out at strange hours? Did you find things that made you suspicious of her activities?”

Aisha and I exchange a look. It’s hard to explain all the things Gretchen said or did that made her who she was. Or who she wanted people to think she was.

I clear my throat. “Well, she did sneak—”

“She had, like, a file she kept on people,” Aisha says. She looks nervously at me, but I just sit there, openmouthed. “It was kind of like a black book. I only saw her looking at it once, on her phone.”

The sheriff glances at me and my pulse picks up. I didn’t realize Aisha knew about the files. I think of the video of Marcus, of Gretchen suggesting he cared about me, and him wishing her dead.

I nod slowly. “It was just a thing she liked to do. She kept track of things people said and did. She wanted to know what they were up to.”

“Kept track? Like to use it against them?”

“Not exactly. . . .” It seems unfair to drag this side of Gretchen through the mud when she can’t explain it herself. “Sometimes she’d show things to people, to make them uncomfortable, but it was like a game to her.”

“I think it was more of a control thing,” Aisha says, a hint of bitterness in her voice. “Gretchen was a huge control freak. She liked to have power over people.”

I think of the essay-selling website and shift in my chair.

“I wish someone had mentioned this earlier,” the sheriff mutters, jotting on a pad in front of him. “You say she kept it on her phone?”

“She liked to keep it with her,” Aisha confirms.

I clear my throat. “Do you think she might have had something on this mechanic guy? Is he connected in some way?” There is nothing on the SD card related to Alex Burke, but Gretchen might not have had the chance to record anything about him before she died.

The sheriff eyes the bag of money, but doesn’t say anything.

I bring my hand to my chest. “You don’t really think she—”

“I’m not going to speculate with you about how the two of them were involved,” the sheriff says. “But Alex Burke is a known low-level drug dealer—someone who wouldn’t have wanted to get in trouble.”

Aisha bites her lip.

“Thank you, girls, this has been extremely helpful.” He flips his notepad to a clean page and looks at us. “I do want to ask you one favor. Could you please keep this to yourselves, about finding the money?”

Aisha’s relief is palpable. She nods quickly. “You don’t want people to know about the purse or the money?”

“We’ll have to say something about it eventually,” he says, rising behind the desk. “But I’d like to keep it quiet as long as possible. Someone is probably looking for that cash. I’m hoping to find them before they learn we have it.” He ushers us toward the door, but pauses with his hand on the knob. “Sonia, could I speak with you alone for just a moment?”

“Yeah . . . sure.” I look at Aisha.

“I’ll wait for you,” she says.

Once she’s gone and the door is closed, Sheriff Wood pulls the Hidden Falls postcard and defaced photograph from a drawer in his desk. They’re sealed in plastic bags now, which somehow makes me feel safer.

“I ran this print, like you asked me to. Nothing came up in the database.”

I stare at the huge red letters scorching toward me through the plastic. The computer system can only identify fingerprints of people who’ve been arrested or have their prints on file for some other reason. Which means it couldn’t have been Marcus or Alex Burke . . . but now leaves me wondering who else it could’ve been.

“Thanks.” I shift from my right foot to my left. “I guess I don’t know what to think.”