The quiet descending upon the house felt oppressive. Her stomach in knots, Rae flicked off the TV. A gust of wind rattled against the windows before hurrying off, allowing the silence to flood back in.
Sifting for clues secondhand would never uncover the truth. All Rae had was a trail of pure conjecture based on the events Quinn had described. There was only one reliable fact: Lark was gone, her life cut short in the most tragic way. There was no proof she’d been fighting with Stella—or anyone else, for that matter. Over Griffin, of all things. Because Griffin was dating Katherine at the time, and Stella may have reacted badly to Lark’s boasts.
Am I the one who’s overreacting?
Assuming Lark had argued with one of the other teens, it probably meant nothing. They fought, and then the other girl went back inside. Lark stayed outside, dangerously near the icy, empty pool—alone.
Or did she?
Snatching up her smartphone, Rae thumbed through the texts. Her daughter’s final message leaped onto the screen.
Should’ve stayed home.
After sending the text, Lark slipped on ice and fell into the pool.
Or someone pushed her in.
Dread gripped Rae’s throat. How would she ever know for sure?
Grimly, she sighed. There was only one way. She needed to talk to each of the girls who’d attended the party. Sit them down, one by one, then compare each of their stories. Yuna could help her contact each of the families—Yuna got along with everyone in town and had better diplomatic skills than Rae. They could begin by contacting the girls in Stella’s posse, and leave the call to Katherine for last. If Stella was behind Lark’s accident—directly or indirectly—it made sense to talk to the others first.
Rae’s heart sank. All the girls were loyal to each other—and to Stella especially. If they’d lied as a group to the PD on the night of Lark’s death, what chance was there of garnering the truth now? They’d simply lie again.
I need an inducement, something to pry one of the girls loose from the others. Something to encourage one of them to stand apart and substantiate Quinn’s version of events.
The solution was suddenly obvious. Groaning, Rae hid her face in her palms.
I need Griffin’s help. Lowering her hands into her lap, she drew a steadying breath. There really was no other option.
Griffin’s niece, Jackie, had not only attended the party, she was Stella’s best friend. If Griffin could impress upon Jackie the seriousness of the situation, she’d do the right thing. Perhaps not immediately. But Rae was confident he’d get his niece to open up. Jackie would verify the true version of events. Which would leave Rae—if the worst-case was the actual scenario—dealing with a more awful situation than she’d bargained for.
Don’t even go there. The worst-case scenario is only a remote possibility. Very remote, and not worth considering. Stella and the others were typical fourteen-year-old girls, with their love of fashion and the latest music and their catty disagreements. A little spoiled and certainly indulged by the parents who loved them—Rae had been no different when it came to Lark’s wants, and her needs—but every one of the girls was grounded by a core of decency. Good kids, all. Not one of them would’ve intentionally harmed Lark. It was unthinkable.
“Want to watch a movie?”
Flinching, she looked up. Her father padded to the couch. Connor wore flannel pajamas with a green plaid robe sashed tightly around his waist.
Despite the tension balled up inside her, Rae dredged up a smile. “I thought you’d gone to bed.”
“I might sleep on the couch . . . if I can fall asleep. I’ve got a fire in my belly, and I’m not talking about ambition.”
“Too much dinner tonight?” she asked, glad to engage in a reassuringly normal chat.
“Why’d you let me eat all that Italian food?”
“Too much garlic never agrees with you.” Grabbing the throw, she pressed it around his knees. “I should’ve remembered.”
“Too much everything. My insides are on fire.” He glanced toward the hallway. “Where’s Quinn? I thought he was out here, watching TV with you.”
“He went to his room. Best guess, he’s studying.” At least she hoped he was. Quinn also needed a reassuringly normal task, something to take his mind off tonight’s disturbing conversation.
“I wonder if he’d like to play cards.”
“What?” Blinking, Rae focused her attention on her father.
“I might be more comfortable sitting at the kitchen table.”