Lovely Girls(56)

I told her I just went for a bike ride, but my mom isn’t stupid. I knew she was hoping that I was out at a party with a bunch of drunk kids, like a real-life version of the graduation party at Jake’s house in Sixteen Candles. She wants a normal daughter with normal wacky teenage problems.

And instead, she’s stuck with me.

Alex glanced over her shoulder, out the window, and then looked back at her phone.

I don’t know what I’m going to do. I don’t think anyone saw me last night, but what if I’m wrong? If I am, I could be in serious trouble. I know my mom thinks I am. Which is actually pretty screwed up on its own. She didn’t say it, but I know she was thinking about Dad. About the accident. I don’t think she’s ever fully believed me that I don’t remember what happened that day.

Tears welled in Alex’s eyes, and she wiped at them with the back of her hand.

Maybe she’s right. Maybe there is something wrong with me.

She thinks we might need to hire a criminal defense attorney. She thinks I need one. Maybe I do. And I’m pretty sure the first thing he’d tell me is to stop making videos about what happened. So that’s exactly what I’m going to do.

Alex stared into the camera for a few beats and then abruptly ended the recording.





CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR




* * *





KATE

I sat at the kitchen table, drinking a mug of tea while I read the local news coverage of Callie’s death on my iPad. In the past twenty-four hours, I’d imagined endless terrifying scenarios that all ended the same—with Alex being accused of killing Callie. The imaginary scenes flipped through my mind. Alex being arrested. Alex being held in jail without bond awaiting trial. Alex sitting at the defendant’s table during her trial, looking fragile and young, while prosecutors accused her of having committed a terrible crime.

Alex still hadn’t told me where she’d been the night Callie died. In fact, she wasn’t speaking to me at all. When I finally gave up trying to get answers out of her, Alex had stomped up to her room and hadn’t come out for the rest of the day. She hadn’t even come down for dinner. I left her a plate on the counter, covered in plastic wrap. The next morning, the plate was in the sink, washed clean. She must have crept downstairs to eat after I went to bed.

I tried to focus on the newspaper article. The news of Callie’s death was the lead story.

TEEN REMEMBERED AS BRIGHT LIGHT OF THE COMMUNITY

The body of Callie Nord, seventeen, was found yesterday morning on Isle Beach. The cause of death has not been released by the Calusa County medical examiner.

Callie is being remembered as a lively and creative young woman, who was well liked by friends and teachers alike.

“She was such a bright light,” Alison Spencer, a guidance counselor at Shoreham High School, said. “Everyone is shocked and saddened by her loss.”

Callie was a member of the Shoreham women’s tennis team, which was recently rocked by the allegations that the coach, Seth Townsend, had been having an inappropriate relationship with one of the players on the team. Townsend has been charged on multiple counts of unlawful sexual activity with a minor. He’s been released from custody on bond and is awaiting trial.

I frowned at my tablet, wondering why the newspaper had brought up Seth Townsend. The implication was that his arrest was somehow linked to Callie’s death. But Coach Townsend had been involved with Daphne, not Callie. Or, at least, that’s what I thought. Was it possible that the coach had victimized other girls on the team?

The doorbell rang, and I dropped the iPad. It fell on the table with a loud clatter. I pushed my chair back and stood, hoping it was only Lita, wishing for a reality where the worst thing that could happen was an annoying neighbor stopping by without warning.

But it wasn’t Lita. Instead, two men stood on the doorstep.

“Good morning.” The older of the two men smiled genially. “I’m Detective Mike Monroe. This is my partner, Gavin Reddick. We’re with the Calusa County Sheriff’s Office.”

I stared at them. Mike Monroe looked a bit older than me, probably in his midfifties. He was a barrel-chested man with a pleasant face and thick hair. I guessed his partner, Gavin Reddick, was in his late thirties. Reddick was tall and gaunt. He had a sharply angled face and dark narrow eyes.

“I’m Kate Turner,” I said.

“We’re here to talk to you about Callie Nord, the teenage girl who died yesterday,” Detective Monroe said. “May we come in?”

I wanted to say no, to step back inside my house and shut the door firmly in their faces. But I knew that if I did that, it would look like I was hiding something. A young girl had died, the daughter of a former friend and the teammate of my daughter. Only someone who was guilty would refuse to help the investigation into her death. And right now, I needed them to focus their attention elsewhere.

“Sure, come in.” I held the door open for them. I glanced at the stairs and wondered whether Alex had heard the detectives arrive. She was still in her room, and I hoped she’d stay there. I led the two men into the living room. They took seats on the matching cream-upholstered chairs, while I sat opposite, perched on the edge of the sofa.

“Can I get you anything? I just made some coffee,” I offered.

“No, thank you,” Detective Monroe said. His smile was open and friendly. “Your name came up in connection with our investigation. Were you acquainted with Callie Nord?”