Hide (Detective Harriet Foster #1)(27)

“She took it with her. She was going to work on her paper on the bus. It’s due . . .” Wendy stopped, stricken anew. “I guess it doesn’t matter now.”

So in addition to her missing phone, there was a missing laptop. Were they looking at a robbery gone bad? Foster peeked out the window, but there wasn’t much to see beyond a small courtyard with stone benches. She turned back to Wendy. “Okay. Tell me about Peggy and Stella.”

Wendy’s eyes widened, and her guard went up. “What do you mean?”

There was a tennis ball on Peggy’s desk. Foster picked it up, squeezed it, and rolled it around in her hands, giving the young woman a moment. After a time, Wendy’s head fell to her chest, and she began rubbing her hands against her thighs. Nerves. Foster put the ball back where she’d gotten it.

“You asked if Peg had any trouble with anybody. Well, yesterday, she and Stella argued over the phone. It was nothing new. They were always fighting about something. I mean always. Stella feeds off drama.”

“You know what they argued about?”

“Stella was mad Peg was going to the march without her. She thought because she couldn’t go, Peg shouldn’t. But if it hadn’t been the march, it would have been something else. Honestly, Stella’s a . . .”

“Bully,” Foster offered when Wendy couldn’t come up with the right word.

Wendy looked up, giving her a slight smile. “And clingy, possessive . . . and so intense. You saw her. She has to be the center of attention. When we heard about Peg . . . right away she started in, like it only affected her.” She looked up and found Foster’s eyes. “I think Stella’s feeling guilty about something.”

“Like?”

Wendy shrugged. “Don’t know, but Stella lies. I don’t think she can help herself. Peg was just realizing that about her.”

“So you don’t believe she was studying Sunday afternoon and eating pizza alone.”

Wendy bit her lower lip and went back to picking at her cuticles, which were red and on the verge of bleeding. “Like I said, Stella lies.”

“Did Peggy tell Rimmer she was dumping him for Stella?”

Wendy shook her head. “She just stopped being there for him. When he finally noticed, she made it official.” Wendy reached over and grabbed a bedraggled bear off her pillow and held it tight. “This is what I know. Peg was a good person. She got along with everybody. She was excited about the march. She believed in what it was about. I don’t know who those guys in the photos are, but I’ve never seen any of them around here.” She nuzzled the bear. “She was my best friend. And the only problem she had, as far as I know, was Stella.”



Back downstairs, Lonergan looked desperate enough to leap into Foster’s arms when she walked back into the room alone. Stella’s tears were gone. Foster saw something else in her eyes this time—defiance, cunning.

Foster walked over to the table, tore a blank page from her notebook, and handed it to Stella along with her pen. “Write down the names of the people you spent time with yesterday, please. Full names. Phone numbers, email, dorm addresses. Whatever you have.”

Stella took the pad and pen. “Why? I told you I—”

“Just being thorough,” Foster said. “Thank you for your cooperation.” Foster watched as Stella jotted down the information she requested, then handed the paper back, looking far less confident as she did it. “Did you speak at all with Peggy yesterday afternoon?”

“No, like I said . . .”

“Did you try calling or texting her later in the evening?” Foster asked.

Stella shifted in her seat. “Maybe once or twice.”

Foster held her hand out. “Show me?”

Stella’s eyes widened. “You mean my phone?” It was as if Foster had asked for one of Stella’s kidneys. A kid and their phone weren’t easily parted.

“I’m not going anywhere with it,” Foster assured her. “You’ll get it right back. Unless you’re refusing to show me?”

Stella hesitated before lifting her phone out of her pocket. She held on to it for a moment, clutching the device in her hands. “Don’t you need a warrant or something?”

“Not if you voluntarily comply with my polite request,” Foster answered.

Stella handed the phone to Foster, who quickly thumbed through her outgoing-call logs and text messages. She looked up at Stella when she was done and handed the phone back, as she’d promised. “Four calls. Twelve text messages. The last one at four this morning. A little more than once or twice.”

“I wanted to make sure she was safe,” Stella replied. “You know how dangerous this city is.”

“What’d you think when you got no response?”

Stella dropped her head to her chest. “That she was avoiding me.”

“So you got worried,” Foster said. “Did you come down to her room to check to see if she made it back?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because I didn’t, okay?”

Foster let things sit. “That’s it for now. We’ll be in touch.”

She and Lonergan watched as Stella got up and rushed out of the room. Foster closed her file, the paper with the names on it tucked inside, then turned to Lonergan. “Did you get anything else from her?”