Whispering Rock (Virgin River #3)(77)

He assured Mrs. Bradford that the students he wanted to speak with were in absolutely no trouble, but without even realizing it, might have information that could help him. “Think of it as something like a witness to an accident—someone might have information that can help resolve an issue, without even being aware of it.”

Mrs. Bradford disappeared for about twenty minutes, and when she came back she was ready to have a few students called to her office to speak with Mike. He assumed she had called the sheriff.

Mike talked to a couple of girls who provided him with the names of teens they had seen at parties. Within an hour, Brenda Carpenter was delivered to the counselor’s office and they were left alone together. He knew Brenda’s parents, but in the months he’d been in Virgin River, he hadn’t met her. He showed his badge again.

“What’s this about?” she asked.

“You’re not in any trouble,” he assured her. “You’re under no obligation to talk to me, but I hope you will. I want to ask you about a gathering of kids, a party you might have attended. Maybe recently, maybe quite a while ago.”

“I don’t go to parties,” she said.

“Your name appeared on a list I have of kids who attended one or more parties I’m checking out. It could have been as long ago as last year. What I’m trying to learn about is a party in which there could have been drugs present.”

“I don’t do drugs.”

“I’m not talking about pot. You might not have known if there were drugs present. Being used.”

“Then how could I help you?”

“This is worth checking. And what you have to say, if anything, goes no further. I know your parents through Jack and, I promise you—I won’t be discussing this with them or anyone else. I’m looking for information about a party at which people passed out or lost consciousness.”

Her pupils shrank at once and her eyes narrowed. “What are you talking about?”

“Have you ever found yourself at a party where that happened? Where people—maybe they were drinking—passed out or lost consciousness? Because that information could help me.”

Brenda just about leaped out of her chair. “Who told you about that? No one was ever supposed to tell about that.”

He made sure his arms were open, that he appeared accessible to her, even if it was only on a subconscious level. “A student I interviewed claimed to have been at a party where this happened to her. I can’t tell you who—it’s confidential. I don’t know whether you were present or not, which is why I’m asking.”

“You’re sure? It wasn’t an adult who told you?”

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “It was definitely not an adult. Have anything for me, Brenda? It’s very important.”

“Why? Why is it so important?”

“Because that sort of thing has happened, and I really have to make it stop before somebody gets… Well,” he said, shaking his head solemnly. “Let’s be honest for a second—the situation could be deadly. If I knew something, I wouldn’t want that on my head.”

“Deadly? How? From getting drunk and passing out?”

“If some kind of drug was used to cause a person to lose consciousness, yes.”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “What do you want me to say?”

“Let’s back up. Have you ever been to a party where that’s happened?”

“I went to a party, once, a long time ago, where people drank too much. I don’t think that’s what you mean.”

He shrugged. “That could be all it looked like, if something was slipped in a beer.”

She took a breath. “Like I said, a long time ago.”

“Do you remember who was there?”

“Why?”

“Because your name came up once, although there were several parties where that happened,” he said. “Now, I’m just a simple guy, but I have an idea that maybe you went once and decided you don’t like those parties too much. I’m not guessing why,” he said, holding up his hands. “All I want to do is get some names from you—confidential—just so I can see if any of the same names turn up at these parties. Regularly.”

A startled look came over her face, then there was a slow transformation—to anger. She was catching on. She knew now. She wasn’t the only one. A guy or guys were going after the girls.

Mike turned a tablet with a pen on top toward her. “And anything specific would help, like whether a certain person was just there for a little while, a long while, was the host of the party, brought the beer, that sort of thing. That would be important. Thank you.”

When Mike sat in his car forty minutes later looking through these lists, he knew Brenda was probably the patient who had become pregnant at a party with no idea how. Then something jumped out at him that spelled opportunity and relief at once. There was one name he recognized. It appeared on Sophie’s list—that party had taken place about a month ago. A young man she remembered being there for a short time. The name popped up once more—at a kegger at the rest stop, again for a short time. But the name did not appear on Brenda’s list, the party she had attended last spring, or on any others. Tom Booth. Tom would know the boys present at the party where Sophie passed out.