The Vanishing Stair (Truly Devious, #2)(63)

Maris puffed for a moment and blew out a trail of smoke.

“If she killed Hayes and died down there,” she said, “good.”

That seemed a bit harsh. Actually, that seemed a lot harsh. But there was a solidity to it.

Stevie’s phone started ringing. She pulled it out. The number came up as unknown, which was the first bad sign.

“I’ll see you later,” she said to Maris. Stevie jogged off a few paces toward the portico to answer the call.

“Sorry to call at a time like this,” said a familiar voice. “I understand there was some trouble last night.”

Senator King sounded like he was in a hallway, with people chattering all around him.

“Element Walker was found,” he went on. “By David, if I understand things correctly. Do I?”

“Yes,” Stevie said. She was surprised that she did not shake upon hearing his voice.

“Well,” he said. “I suppose that answers the question of where she went. Very sad, of course. Terrible. The poor girl.”

Edward King sounded about as sad about Ellie being found as someone who had just seen someone else drop half a doughnut on the ground. Stevie waited. David had obviously called his father. Whatever was coming, she could and would deal with it. She could unload all of her anger, all of her confusion, everything. It was time. It would feel good. Everything here would end, but . . .

“How do you think he took this?” Edward King said. “Finding the body. How did he seem? He won’t tell me how he is, so I have to ask someone else.”

This was not the question she was expecting.

“Upset,” she said.

“Well, at least that’s normal. That’s good. He seems to be doing much better. I think you’re having a very good influence on him, whatever you’re doing. I’ll make sure to put in a call to your parents today, make sure whatever comes of this is smoothed out. Really, when you think about it, it means there’s less to be concerned about. All right. We’ll talk soon.”

With that, he was gone.

Well, Edward King didn’t appear to know that Stevie had blurted everything out. Not yet, anyway. Stevie twitched a bit, thought of turning back, and then remembered there was no back to turn to. Home was still a crime scene—or, not a crime scene, but a scene. Off limits. She had promised Janelle and Nate she would meet them, and she needed them right now.

She continued on to the dining hall. The moment she went through the doors, it was clear that everyone knew what had happened the night before. For a start, everyone was there, which was weird on the night after the Halloween party. There was a low, electric chatter. Maris was with a group of people by the fireplace and chairs just inside the door. She wasn’t sitting, though—she was standing on one of the chairs. Squatting, actually. Like a chicken. It was a weird move, like something Ellie would do.

Ellie was gone. The new Ellie was taking over.

Janelle stood and waved to Stevie from one of the booth seats. Stevie headed over toward her. Nate was there, and Vi. Stevie slid in.

“Where did you go last night?” Janelle said.

“Camping,” Stevie replied.

“Where?”

“In the yoga studio. It was peaceful in there. The rain on the roof was really nice.”

“You should have stayed with us. Are you okay? Did you sleep in there?”

A tray lowered itself onto the table. It was attached to David, who sat down with them. He didn’t look up at Stevie. He just picked up a piece of bacon and started snapping it into pieces.

The veins in Stevie’s forehead began ululating in alarm.

“I’m fine,” she said.

“Are you okay?” Janelle asked David. “You weren’t there either.”

“Great,” he said. “I’m great.”

He snapped his bacon again. He looked right at Stevie, but her image seemed to bounce right off his eyes. Stevie felt herself vanishing, shrinking away. The toxic awkwardness of this conversation was obvious. Nate looked like he was trying to retreat into his sweater. Vi flashed a look of concern at Janelle. Janelle, of course, continued to face it all head-on.

“The yurt is nice,” she said. “They moved in some beds, and they made little rooms for us with these tapestries.”

“Good to hear,” David said. “I’ve always wanted to live at a renaissance faire.”

“I’m going to get some food,” Stevie said, pushing back from the table.

Though it had been some time since she had eaten, Stevie found she had no appetite. She walked along the counter, gazing into the amber depths of the warm maple syrup vat with its tiny ladle. Gretchen came up behind her, sliding her tray along delicately, careful not to touch Stevie’s, as if whatever Stevie had was catching.

“You guys are having a bad year,” Gretchen said quietly. “I liked Ellie.”

“Me too,” Stevie said. Now that she was saying it out loud, she realized she really had. Ellie was goofy and colorful. Ellie had been friendly from the word go. She was ridiculous in her tattered clothes, rolling off the hammock chair in the common room.

“Do you think she did it?” Gretchen said. “Really?”

“I don’t know,” Stevie said, sliding her tray along.

“Sorry,” Gretchen replied.