Lovely Girls(68)

The quote had been attributed to an anonymous mother, but I could practically hear the words in Genevieve’s voice. Of course it was her.

“That horrible woman,” I muttered.

I glanced up, overwhelmed by the creepy feeling that someone was watching me. It was the young man at the cash register who was taking orders. His eyes widened, and he quickly looked away. Had he heard what I’d said? I glanced to my right and saw that a young couple with a baby in a stroller were also watching me avidly, the woman whispering in the man’s ear.

I must be imagining this, I thought. These people can’t possibly know who I am.

And yet when I reached the front of the line and it was my turn to place an order, the young man at the register wouldn’t meet my eyes while he rang up my order.

“Could I have a dozen everything bagels and a one-pound container of cinnamon-raisin cream cheese?” I asked in a forced cheery tone.

“Sure.” The cashier nervously grabbed a paper bag and then turned away to fill it with bagels.

I turned and saw a group of teenage girls, younger than Alex, get into line behind me. I smiled at them, but they were too busy chatting to one another to notice me. The bagel shop was just down the street from Shoreham High, and I assumed that the girls were students there.

“Ma’am, your order’s ready,” the cashier said.

I had paid for the bagels and was just leaving when I heard one of the girls say in a loud stage whisper, “I think that’s that girl’s mother.”

“What girl?” her friend asked.

“You know. The one who . . .” She turned to look at me, and we locked gazes. She had long curly hair that had been dyed pink on the ends. Her eyes opened wide, startled at my attention. She quickly turned and whispered in a softer voice to her friends, who all immediately turned to look at me. “Stop, stop,” the pink-haired girl hissed. “She’ll see you.”

I pushed open the door, which caused the bell hanging on it to ring cheerily.

I had no idea how any of those people recognized me. From social media? I wondered. I didn’t spend much time on it, but I had posted pictures of Alex and me over the years.

Poor Alex, I thought. If this was anything like what she’d gone through at school, I didn’t blame her for walking out of school and not going back.

This was followed by an even darker thought—if Alex was charged, how could she possibly get a fair trial in this town, where everyone had already decided that she was guilty?





CHAPTER FORTY




* * *





KATE

Alex was still in bed when I got home with the bagels. I went up to her room, stepping over the clothes and books that covered her floor, and opened the blinds. The room was instantly flooded with sunshine. Alex groaned in protest and pulled her duvet up over her head.

“I got bagels,” I announced.

“What kind?” she asked, her voice muffled.

“Everything. And cinnamon-raisin cream cheese.”

Alex threw off the duvet and peered up at me. “Fine, I’ll have a bagel.”

“As long as you’re not going to school, I’d like you to help me clean this place up.”

Alex sighed loudly but didn’t protest.

After breakfast, Alex and I began clearing up the mess the police had made the day before. I organized the papers scattered across the floor of my home office, while Alex tackled the kitchen.

“Why did they take all of the food out of the pantry?” she asked, staring into the cupboard. “What did they think they’d find there?”

“I don’t know.” I had no idea whether the police really thought we were hiding evidence behind boxes of dried pasta and cans of tomatoes or whether this was all a stunt designed to put psychological pressure on Alex to confess. After all, if they had any evidence linking her to Callie’s death, they would have arrested her.

I had just finished restoring the contents of my desk drawers when the house phone rang.

“Kate, it’s Scott,” the attorney said when I picked up. “The police want to formally interview Alex at the sheriff’s office. I just got off the phone with them.”

“No,” I said reflexively. “You said not to let her talk to them.”

“I know I did, but I think we need to look at this strategically. If Alex is viewed as not cooperating, that could be bad for her down the road. From a public relations perspective.”

“Wait . . . are you talking about preparing for her to go on trial?”

“Not necessarily. But it would be good to have public opinion on our side. If she cooperates, it would take away oxygen from the perception that she was involved in a potential crime.”

“I don’t care about public opinion. I care about protecting my daughter.”

“This is how we protect her,” Scott said. “We don’t want her to be turned into a pariah. She still has to live here, go to school here.”

I thought about Alex walking out of the school the day before after everyone had been looking at her, whispering rumors to one another about her involvement in Callie’s death. I hadn’t even told Alex about the girls at the bagel shop. It was the last thing she needed to hear.

“Do we have a choice?” I asked.