Good Girls Lie(98)

“Do you know who was?”

“Her stepbrother. She was head over heels for him, broke it off with me so she could spend all her time mooning around after him. She was very clear when she told me, explained the timing. We broke it off in July. She got pregnant in August. She was quite a little slut, but I didn’t kill her.”

“I didn’t—”

“That’s what you want to ask me, isn’t it? You’re sure I threw her off the fucking bell tower because I’m the only one who could have gotten access to your keys. And with these photos, all you have to do is tell your buddy Tony the sheriff and off I go to jail, truth be damned.”

“Wait—”

“But that’s not true. All of the secret societies have copies of your keys. Have for years. Everyone knows you never lock that safe. How do you think they move about the campus so easily? You are so naive.”

“I’m not—” she says but he’s up and storming out of the kitchen so fast he knocks his chair backward and his drink topples to the floor.

She ignores the mess, runs after him. “Stop. Please. That is not why I asked you here. I couldn’t possibly think you hurt Camille. You aren’t your father.”

He is in her face with a roar that makes her stumble backward in fear. “I’m not? How do you know? Maybe I’m just as bad as he is. Maybe I stalked her at school and stalked her at home. Maybe I raped her over the summer and got her pregnant. You don’t know. You don’t know! But I bet you’ve been giving good old Tony an earful. Yes, Ford, I know you’re fucking him.”

He’s jealous. He does care.

She steps forward, grabs his arms. “Listen to me, right now. I asked you here tonight so we could discuss our relationship like adults. I am not seeing Tony anymore, that’s been over for months. And I don’t think you hurt Camille. I know that’s not who you are. But I needed to know if the DNA test was going to show you as the father. Surely you can understand if that was the case, I couldn’t let the school be blindsided. There are ways to handle these things, but being surprised isn’t one of them.”

A flash in his eyes. “DNA?”

“Yes. They are running DNA on the fetus. You’ll be in the clear. We don’t even need to mention you were seeing her. This can be kept between me, the sheriff, and the Shannon family.”

“The lawsuit—”

“Trust me, Deirdre Shannon won’t be suing Goode when she finds out the father of the baby was her own stepchild, Camille’s brother, and it all happened under her own roof.”

He blows out a whiskey-perfumed breath. “You sound happy.”

“I’m not happy, I’m relieved. I think we should delete these photos. I’ve already taken care of it on my end. This is all that’s left.”

And she does, one after the other. They exist in the ether, yes. But she’s deleted them off her computer, and now the phone that took and sent them. She’s destroying evidence, but of what? An innocent relationship? Who is served by Rumi and the school being dragged through the mud?

Finally, she sets the phone on the counter. “There. We’re covered.”

“Do you have any idea whose phone that is?”

“I do. It’s a separate issue, I think. I hope. I found it in Ash Carlisle’s room. There are some issues being raised about her, and I searched her room.”

“Ash?”

There is something in his tone. “Don’t tell me you’ve been having an affair with yet another student.”

“No, not at all. There’s something about her, though. She’s... I can’t put my finger on it. Something’s off. Plus, she’s sad and lonely, and I think she has something going with Becca Curtis.”

“Really? Interesting.” That might explain why Becca was so determined to tap Ash; it would give them a lot of time to get to know each other better. Relationships between students are not an issue at Goode, so long as they are consensual. Respect for all sexualities is a hallmark of the school’s charter—they had nondiscrimination policies decades before most other schools.

Rumi sags against the wall, rubbing his eyes hard like he hasn’t slept in days. “I thought you’d be mad at me.” He sounds like a little boy lost, and her heart constricts.

“I’m furious with you for having relations with a student, and I should fire you on the spot. But I’ve made some pretty massive mistakes myself, so why don’t we call it even, have a drink, and talk this through.”

He moves across the room so quickly she gasps. His kiss is soulful and sweet.

“Thank you. Thank you for believing me.”

“I’ve always believed in you, Rumi.”

“Forget the drinks,” he says, low and urgent, and she laughs.

“Changed your mind? One last time?”

He tosses her that wicked smile she adores.

She leads him to her old room at the top of the stairs. It is surreal to see her things from childhood, the books, the trophies, the stuffed animals, the posters. A happier time. An easier time.

Her mother never changed the decor. Jude hasn’t given up on Ford moving back into the house. The bed is large, the sheets sweet and clean.

Rumi doesn’t notice the girlish details; he has eyes only for Ford.