“Right now, I can keep your confidence, but you may need to talk to the police later. I can help with the process. I’ve worked with a lot of witnesses, and I haven’t lost one.”
“But you’re no longer a marshal,” Mateo said pointedly.
“I have lots of friends who are. I won’t reveal your name without talking to you first, okay? But I am going to look for Candace’s journal. Your name might be in it.” After tonight, Regan absolutely didn’t believe that Taylor had died of an accidental overdose. Either she killed herself out of guilt, or Rachel Wagner killed her to keep her quiet.
Maybe Rachel thought Taylor was Lucas’s anonymous letter writer, which would explain why she felt the need to kill her and why Taylor’s computer was missing.
Mateo said, “Baby, I’ll take you and Bella to my parents’ house this weekend. We’ll be safe there, and we can stay as long as we need to.” He turned to Regan. “You’ll call when you know anything, okay?”
“I will.”
Thirty-Seven
Vicky spent the entire evening trying to keep her sorority sisters happy. Now she finally understood what her mother always used to tell her: “You can’t make all the people happy all the time.”
She never liked that adage because she’d worked so hard for years to make sure that everyone was listened to, that everyone had a voice, that people were happy. And she’d done a terrific job of it.
But now people were complaining or worried.
Why would someone in the sorority disguise their voice and call in to the podcast? Why wouldn’t they bring the information to the council and let them decide as a group?
Vicky just felt sick about the whole thing. Maybe she was wrong, and she should have let Sigma Rho participate in the podcast. But she was so certain that creep had killed Candace. It made sense at the time, and it had really freaked everyone out—as well as Vicky. No one wants to see an old drunk pull out his junk and take a leak. And that’s what the police thought, too. They just couldn’t find him.
But what if they were wrong? What if the police had gotten it wrong? Or…maybe Candace really did take the truck and then the creep killed her.
She frowned, rubbed her eyes, and flopped down on the couch in their lounge. She just wanted this all to be over. The podcast was ruining her last year in college. It overshadowed everything she was doing. They were planning this year’s Spring Fling, which was still five weeks away, and all people could talk about was Candace and the podcast.
Nia Perez walked into the lounge, looked around. “Hey, have you seen Nicole?”
Nia was on Vicky’s shit list for contacting the podcast about Candace driving on Sunday. They’d figured out it was her real quick. If they did nothing when someone violated the rules, then everyone would break the rules. They hadn’t expelled her, so why was everyone upset?
“She’s around,” Vicky said. That was another thing. Her best friend didn’t agree with her on this. Nicole said she understood, but she’d been spending less and less time with Vicky and more time with the troublemakers, which was how Vicky saw the minority of sisters who wanted to help Lucas Vega.
“Okay. I’ll check the quad.”
“Did you call her?”
“I texted her. She didn’t respond.”
“Try our room. She’s probably studying.” Vicky had to remember that she was the president: she had to be accessible and friendly to everyone, even the rule-breakers.
“I knocked. She didn’t answer. It’s not a big deal. I’ll call her later.”
Nia hurried away. Probably still felt guilty for betraying the sisterhood. Vicky hoped she did.
Vicky got up from the couch and finished organizing their lounge. She liked things in their place and having a cheery environment to hang out in. Usually Nicole helped her, but she hadn’t been around most of the evening. Probably because she had betrayed the sorority. Betrayed her.
The more Vicky thought about it, the more she thought it was Nicole who’d called in to the podcast and disguised her voice. Why hadn’t she come to her first? Vicky would have listened.
Honestly, she was hurt. Ever since the podcast started, she and Nicole had been arguing. Vicky hated conflict. She needed to figure it out. She didn’t want to lose her best friend. They had done everything together for four years. They’d planned to move close to each other, maybe even share an apartment, depending on where they ended up working.
This whole thing was making her half-crazy. She didn’t know what she was supposed to do. Rachel had been the only one she could talk to. She’d been solid through this whole ordeal.