Page 11 of Don’t Say a Word (Angelhart Investigations #2)

Chapter Eight

Angie Williams

Angie had spent the day at her favorite place—the downtown Central Library.

She’d planned to go to class, but when she started walking toward campus, the southbound bus pulled up and, on impulse, she boarded it.

There was a closer library to her apartment, but it was small and the librarian was a bitch.

Central was different—massive, quiet, anonymous.

No one bothered you there. She could sit for hours and do homework or nothing at all.

No creeps asking for money, no one hitting on her, no judgmental glances from librarians.

Today, she’d buried herself in research, reading everything she could find about fentanyl to try and figure out how Elijah had been drugged. Why hadn’t he called for help? Why hadn’t he called her ?

She read about the risks, the symptoms. How to smoke, ingest, or even use liquid fentanyl in nasal or eye drops. Fentanyl was in everything now—cut into pills, powder, dusted on marijuana.

Sometimes people didn’t even realize they were overdosing. They just stopped breathing.

She pictured that happening to Elijah and wanted to scream, cry, demand justice.

Depressed and exhausted, she stayed at the library until three, then hopped a bus back to campus for the volleyball game.

Angie hadn’t missed any of her friend Gina’s volleyball games, even though she technically shouldn’t be on school grounds because she’d skipped class today.

But she didn’t want to go home either. Bruce wasn’t the worst of her mother’s long line of boyfriends—he hadn’t tried to get into her pants, for example—but he was a lazy jerk who watched television 24/7 and worked sporadically.

Gina had been her best friend since forever.

In fact, she spent more time at Gina’s house than at her own.

She loved the large happy Martinelli family.

Their house was loud, messy, and full of life.

Gina was the oldest of six, including four-year-old twins, but her parents were chill and always invited Angie to stay for dinner.

Home-cooked meals beat microwaved pizza or drive-thru burgers any day.

If one of her teachers spotted her, she might get in trouble. But really, what would they do? Give her detention? Make her sit in the library and do homework? She did that for fun .

At least she had until Elijah died.

Now, school felt empty. She didn’t have a homework buddy or anyone to sit with in class. Most of the honors students were uptight, pretentious, or awkward. She didn’t fit in with any of them.

She sat high in the bleachers, as far from the noisy crowd as possible. Most of the kids weren’t even watching, they were just killing time. Maybe some, like her, didn’t want to go home.

Teachers rarely showed up at games anyway. Even if they did, she was good at being invisible.

If you believed you couldn’t be seen, most people didn’t see you.

Volleyball was best-of-five. Gina’s mom had come to the first game, cheering with the twins louder than the pep squad. Gina pretended to be embarrassed, but Angie knew she loved it.

They won the first game. As Mrs. Martinelli gathered up the twins, she waved at Angie. She smiled and waved back, blinking away tears.

Why couldn’t she have a family like the Martinellis? Why couldn’t she have a mom who cared where she was and what she did? Gina sometimes bitched about chores and curfew, but she was never actually mad that she had responsibilities. Angie wanted to feel more loved than tolerated.

They lost the second game 25–22. During the short break, Angie spotted Mr. Parsons enter the gym and look around. She ducked behind a group of students, hoping he wouldn’t notice her.

Normally, she loved school. Even the classes she didn’t like were better than being at home. After school she and Elijah used to study together in the library until he had to go to work.

But Elijah was gone and no one cared. The police closed the case like it was nothing. Sorry, not sorry, your friend is dead. Don’t do drugs or you might be dead too.

But Elijah didn’t do drugs. She knew that. No one listened.

His funeral shredded her. His mom cried quietly the whole time. His uncle gave a beautiful, heartbreaking eulogy. His cousins looked stunned, as if waiting for someone to say it was all a mistake.

She had no idea what to do when the game was over. She’d already spent the weekend at Gina’s and sleepovers weren’t allowed on school nights.

Angie hated going home, but that was really the only option. She wasn’t about to sleep on the street.

Once, during a massive fight with her mom, her mom locked her out of the apartment. Gina was out of town so she slept on Elijah’s patio until his mom found out and let her crash on their couch.

She’d turn eighteen in April, graduate in May, and then she’d be gone.

Maybe college—ASU was an option thanks to her grades and her mom’s total lack of money. But she had no idea what she wanted to do.

Until she figured it out, she’d keep doing what she did best: ignore her mother, avoid whatever asshole she was currently screwing, and hide in the library.

Sun Valley won game three and Angie got up to use the bathroom. She waved to Gina and motioned that she’d be back. Gina gave her a thumbs-up, and Angie stepped outside of the gym to the restrooms.

When she was done, Mrs. Clark was there waiting for her outside the door.

“Angie, a minute please.”

A demand, even though she said please.

“What?” Angie snapped. She liked Mrs. Clark, but she didn’t want this conversation.

“Why don’t we go to my office?”

“I’m watching the game.”

“You know the rules.”

Angie glared at her. Who the fuck cared about the stupid rules. No going to school events the day you have an absence. Blah, blah, blah.

“Angie,” Mrs. Clark said, her voice low, “you promised not to skip school again. I know you’re upset about Elijah—”

“No shit,” Angie said. She was so tired of being placated.

It was why she didn’t want to come to school.

Her friends, her teachers, everyone talking about Elijah.

He was a statistic, so sad. Don’t do drugs, you’ll end up dead like Elijah.

Laughter because Elijah was a teacher’s pet and ha, ha, he was a druggie.

People looked at her as if she had been there, as if she had left him to die.

“Angie—”

“Just stop already! Of course I’m upset. He’s dead and buried and no one gives a shit.”

“That’s not true.”

“You think the police care? Sure, they care a whole lot, because they closed the case. He took drugs, he deserved to die.”

“No one thinks that, and your call to Detective King on Friday was unproductive.”

“How do you know about that?” Was her teacher now conspiring with the police against her?

“I talked to the detective just like I told you I would. I asked why they closed his case and if there was anything we could do to refocus their attention. She told me.”

“They think it’s his fault, and it wasn’t. Someone poisoned him . I know he didn’t do it on purpose. Someone gave him those drugs and I swear to God that he didn’t know. He didn’t know !” She was screaming and tears burned her cheeks. What if she was wrong? What if he had known?

She wasn’t wrong. She knew her friend. Even if he had been avoiding her the last couple weeks.

A parent frowned at them as she left the bathroom, then scurried by. Angie wiped her face. She would not cry. She didn’t cry.

“I haven’t given up,” Mrs. Clark said. “I want to find out what happened as much as you. I know you’re under a lot of pressure with college applications and—”

Angie interrupted. “Do you have a point you’re trying to make or can I go watch the game?”

Mrs. Clark bristled. Angie felt bad because the counselor had always been nice to her, but Angie suppressed the feelings. She couldn’t care.

“Mrs. Martinez hired a private investigator. She would like to talk to you.”

“What the fuck can a PI do that the police can’t?” Angie demanded. “She can’t arrest anyone, she can’t do anything.”

“If she finds something, she can go the authorities with the information.”

Angie threw her hands into the air. “If, if, if . Why would the police even listen to her? What about they don’t give a fuck do you not understand?”

“Do not swear at me, Angie,” Mrs. Clark said calmly.

Angie felt bad, her face heated, but she couldn’t stop herself.

“This is all just bullshit!”

“Come to school tomorrow. I’ll have the private investigator stop by during lunch and you can talk to her in my office. Okay?”

“You’re unbelievable. Holding this over my head to force me to come to school?”

“Mr. Parsons told me about the test on Friday, and I’m sure you have a lot of work to catch up on in your other classes. You’re capable, but you need to be present.”

Parsons . “Your boyfriend told you I was here, didn’t he?”

Mrs. Clark blushed and looked surprised.

“Oh, please, everyone knows. It’s obvious .”

“We are concerned about you cutting school and missing classes. It can’t continue.”

“What are you going to do about it?” Angie said. She had never been this disrespectful to a teacher, especially a teacher she liked. But she was so done with the bullshit adults fed her. Her mother. The police. Mrs. Clark. It was like, oh, be a good girl, we’ll handle everything. They did nothing .

“I’m going to watch the game,” she said and walked away.

Mrs. Clark didn’t stop her.

By the time she got back, the fourth game was over and Sun Valley won the match, which meant no fifth game. Gina was talking with her team and the coach, so Angie left.

She headed for the side exit, which was the fastest way home, but then she thought, if Mrs. Clark had talked to the PI, she must have her name.

Angie didn’t think that the PI would be able to do anything, but she didn’t need Mrs. Clark to talk to her. Angie would find the woman herself, talk to her alone, tell her exactly what the police did—nothing.

But she needed the PI’s name.