The Cheerleaders(57)

“Yeah, yeah. False alarm. Some hysterical-sounding woman thought she saw a burglar. Anyway, everything’s fine.”

My nerves cool a bit, and I even let myself feel amused at his description of Ginny. “That’s good to hear.”

“So I ran a background check on your friend’s dad,” Mike says. “I don’t know how much she told you, but I found some heavy stuff.”

I sit up straight in my bed. I didn’t think Mike would actually look up Ginny’s dad. “Oh. Well, she said something about Tom pulling him over for drinking.”

A light thump, and static, as if Mike is tapping his fingers against his cell phone. “Maybe she should tell you about the other thing.”

Ginny must have known what Mike would dig up on her father when she agreed to use him as a ruse. She had to figure Mike might tell me, and some part of her was okay with it.

“I don’t think she wants to see him again or anything,” I say. “She just wants to know where he is.”

“Well, it looks like the registration on his truck expired. The only address he has on record is his house here in Sunnybrook.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means he could be anywhere, pretty much. Must be staying out of trouble, though. He hasn’t even gotten a parking ticket in five years.”

“Five years?” Ginny hadn’t said her dad left the year my sister and the other girls died.

“Yep. Looks like he skipped town before a scheduled court appearance. He never showed.”

“When was his court date?” I ask.

“Gimme a sec.” The sound of keys clacking on Mike’s end mimics my heartbeat. “October thirtieth.”

Three days after Juliana and Susan were murdered. I have to sit. “What was the court appearance for?”

“Something he probably would have done some time for. I don’t feel right telling you more than that, Monica.” Mike sighs. “Bottom line is, this guy disappeared. And it was probably a blessing in disguise for your friend.”

But she says she knows where he is. Either Ginny lied, or she knows where her dad is holed up and she’s protecting him.

“Well, I’ve got to get back to work. I’m pulling a double while everyone sleeps off their PBA dinner hangovers,” Mike says. “I’m sorry I couldn’t help more.”

“No. Thank you.” My thoughts are blurring together—I don’t want him to hang up. Not when something he said is needling me.

“Wait,” I say. “You said Phil Cordero drove a truck. Do you know what type?”

“A 2005 GMC Sierra,” Mike says. “Leased.”

“Is that a pickup truck?”

“That it is,” he confirms. “A crap one too.”

“Thanks,” I force out, a sick feeling gathering in my stomach.

“I can try to help her if your friend’s serious about tracking him down,” Mike says. “But it might be best if she doesn’t pursue this. When a family member takes off…Well, if you look hard enough, you’ll probably find something that makes you wish you hadn’t.”

I don’t know what to say. Ginny told me she knew where her father was.

“Monica? You there?”

“Yeah. I’ve gotta go. Thank you, though.”

“No problem. By the way, thanks for spilling a large Diet Coke in my office.”

I force out a laugh to match his, and he ends the call.

I open my email and pull up the email chain with Daphne Furman. I open a new page.


Hey, Daphne,

Do you think your private investigator friend might be able to look someone up for me? His name is Phil Cordero and he lived in Sunnybrook until five years ago.



My fingertips are humming; this is so wrong, doing this without Ginny knowing.

But she lied to me about knowing where her dad is. Either that, or she really does know where he is, and she’s covering for him, even though he skipped out on his court appearance.

I close my eyes and comb through every interaction I’ve had with Ginny. Her words from the other day haunt me. It’s not really you I’m helping.

What if she already suspected that Jack Canning didn’t kill Susan and Juliana? What if she was helping me to clear up the doubt in her mind that her own father was involved, and in the process, found something she wished she hadn’t?

I hit send, Mike’s voice echoing in my head. If you look hard enough, you’ll probably find something that makes you wish you hadn’t.





We have another Saturday practice today. My mom drops me off at the school on her way to the playhouse for the two o’clock matinee of The Importance of Being Earnest. As she drives away from the curb, Ginny’s mom pulls up. She gives Ginny a quick kiss on the cheek, and I’m struck by how young she looks.

Just from watching them for a few moments, you can see that there’s no wall of tension between Ginny and her mom, like there is between me and mine. Everything about their interaction looks easy.

As Ginny gets out of the car, her mom catches me staring, and before she drives away, she waves at both of us, smiling like I’m an old friend, even though she has no idea who I am.

I smile back at Ginny’s mom.

“Your mom’s really pretty,” I say, once Ginny has reached me.