Take the Fall(65)

He sits on the edge of his desk. “Your principal supplied me with a couple of other reports of defaced photos in people’s lockers. There’s no clear pattern, but each of them were recent photos taken with Gretchen.”

“I wasn’t the only one?” My eyes widen. “Who else?”

“I’d like to keep that confidential for the time being.”

I grind my teeth. “Come on, Sheriff, is it really that huge a secret?”

His eyes drift back to the bag of cash. “You were the only one to receive a postcard after the initial photo. At least, you’re the only one to report it. We’ve been following up on that.”

My lip trembles as I let that sink in. “Do—do you think there’s some connection between the postcard and the money?”

He frowns. “Is there any reason someone might think you were holding on to the cash?”

“Why would they? I didn’t know about it. I don’t even know what it’s for.”

He pauses a long time, then stands, setting the money down next to a second paper bag, which holds Gretchen’s purse. “Look, Sonia, we’re building a strong case against Alex Burke, and I think this purse of Gretchen’s is going to help tremendously. But I want you to keep your eyes and ears open. There’s still a good chance the vandalism of the memorial and your picture and postcard were just pranks, especially since no overt threats were made, but you need to tell me if anything strikes you as odd or makes you feel uncomfortable as we move forward.” His eyes soften. “And try not to worry too much.”

I nod, rising from my chair. “So you still haven’t mentioned it to my mom?”

His brow furrows. “Not for the time being.”

When I meet Aisha in the lobby, I notice Marcus sitting slumped in a chair off in a corner by the windows. He straightens when he sees me, and I struggle not to rush over to him immediately. I’m almost certain he isn’t behind the photo and postcard, and if they link Gretchen to Alex Burke, Marcus might be cleared of her murder too. I pause, surprised at how much I want this to happen now. Our eyes meet and I take a step toward him, but then Kirsten and her parents come through the main doors. Kirsten gives me a relieved smile, but her father looks nervous and upset.

“The sheriff asked us to come down to discuss new evidence.” His voice booms at Martina, cowering behind her desk.

She picks up her phone. “Of course, Mr. Meyer, I’ll let him know you’re here.”

His brow wrinkles when he spots me. “Do you know something about this, Sonia?”

Aisha gives my arm an anxious squeeze.

“They’re here to see Gretchen,” Mrs. Meyer says. We all stare at her, and I can’t help noticing the fuzzy pink slippers on her feet. Gretchen’s mom never used to leave the house without at least three-inch heels. She covers her mouth and laughs, leaning on Kirsten’s shoulder. “Oops, I always get you and your sister mixed up.”

Kirsten looks like she wants the floor to swallow her.

“Thanks for coming on such short notice, sir.” Sheriff Wood comes around the corner behind us and shakes hands with Gretchen’s dad. “If you’ll step into my office . . .”

Mr. Meyer hustles his family around the corner. Mrs. Meyer waves like she’s bidding us bon voyage. Martina slumps back in her chair.

I glance one last time at Marcus, who looks just as anxious as Gretchen’s dad, but Martina calls him over just as Aisha grabs my arm and pulls me out the door.

“Oh my God, I can’t believe the sheriff didn’t call my parents.”

“He’s still going to tell them,” I say, trying to collect my thoughts.

“I know, but not right now.” She lets go of my arm, leaving my skin hot and sweaty. I follow her down the block toward the diner, where she parked her Jeep. “I just can’t disappoint them too, not now.”

She hasn’t said a word about this to me yet, so I just ask. “What do you mean?”

She looks up and down the street as if someone might be watching, and I wonder if this is how I look all the time now. She leads me closer to the windows in front of the post office.

“Tyrone told you he got thrown out of Notre Dame—which I can’t believe he actually shared. Our parents are mortified.”

“Yeah,” I whisper. “What happened? He didn’t really explain.”

She closes her eyes and inhales. “He got caught using steroids. They nailed him with a random drug test and kicked him to the curb.”

I cover my mouth, but this is exactly what I was afraid she’d say. Tyrone worked himself half to death to play at Notre Dame. His father was an alumnus, and after Tyrone made the team, Mr. Wallace could hardly stop talking about it.

“I just don’t want them to find out I screwed up too. They sent me to therapy and everything last time. They think I’m cured.”

“You’re going to have to tell them if the sheriff doesn’t. . . .”

“I know—I mean I will.” She sighs. “I just need to wait for the right time. Maybe after this investigation stuff blows over.”

My stomach twists into a knot. “I didn’t realize you knew about Gretchen’s files.”

Her lip curls. “From what I saw, she had dirt on just about everyone.”