“Did you recognize anyone at the party?” Jamie asked.
Clarissa snorted. “Not exactly my crowd.”
“Okay. Well, thanks again, Ms. Barker.” Jamie nodded subtly to the door, with a look that said We have a lot to talk about.
“I hope you find whatever you’re looking for,” Clarissa said. She was looking directly at me.
“Thanks,” I said faintly, because I was already a million miles away, trying to imagine what had scared Laurel so bad she’d quit her job on the spot, never to be seen again.
***
Jamie and I fell into a pensive silence as we waited outside Cleary Hall. Edie Marlow, the Whitney girl who’d found Laurel’s body, was due out of her sociology class at 4:15 p.m. We’d catch her in a public place.
“Okay. So this glorified country club hosts a seedy underground called Tongue-Cut Sparrow at night,” Jamie said, leaning against a tree. “Laurel was interested in it for some reason. We know that from the note scrawled on the back of that photograph. But then she runs out of the Mansion during a gig. Why?”
“Why even start at the catering firm in the first place?” I asked. “Clarissa said she was desperate to work there. Laurel couldn’t have cared less about cooking. She—”
My phone buzzed; I looked down to see a text from Cal: Shay, call me back already.
The next second, his face flashed on the screen. A pang of reflexive guilt made me accept. “Hi, Cal.”
“Hallelujah, you answered.” His voice was wry, but deep and gravelly. He was a big man; he’d fit in among the football players at the charity event the first night we’d met. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing.” I turned my back so Jamie couldn’t hear.
“Mary Ellen says you texted her you weren’t coming back in time for her Labor Day party. I thought we were planning to go. You know I’m home in a few days, right?”
“I know, but I’m finally writing,” I lied. “Being back’s been inspiring.”
His voice softened. “Look, I’m glad your block’s gone. But I’ve been away for almost three weeks. You’ll be home when I get back, right? I told Eddie Dillard we’d have dinner with him and his wife before the holiday. Can’t do it without you.”
Of course Cal could do it without me. All it would take was making sure there was food and wine on the table. He meant he didn’t want to, because hosting was one of my jobs.
A flood of students poured out of Cleary Hall. In the crowd, I spotted the dark, fashionable bob of Edie Marlow, whose social media I’d studied so I could pick her out.
“Of course,” I said quickly. “Sorry, I have to go.” I hung up over his protests, shoving away the creeping knowledge that I was being a bad wife. I’d make it up to him later.
I glanced at Jamie, trying not to notice the way he looked at me—like he was a little embarrassed for me—and waved him on. “That’s her. Let’s go.”
We fell into stride with Edie, a beautiful girl, slender and doe-eyed. She gave the slightest start.
“Edie Marlow?” I tried to smile soothingly. “Sorry to bother you, but my friend and I were hoping we could ask a few questions about Laurel Hargrove. You’re the one who found her, right?”
A shadow passed over Edie’s face. “Yes,” she said, adjusting the straps of her book bag. She didn’t slow down.
“I’m Jamie Knight.” Jamie held out his hand and smiled warmly.
Edie’s eyes widened as she took stock of him. “From Transgressions?”