Page 8 of Don’t Say a Word (Angelhart Investigations #2)

Chapter Five

Margo Angelhart

Irritated, I shoved my phone into my pocket.

Why was Jack having dinner with Whitney?

Why couldn’t he tell me about it now? If he was getting back together with his bitch of an ex, I’d be furious.

Not only because I like his girlfriend, Laura—the first of Jack’s girlfriends I’d ever sincerely liked, going all the way back to high school—but because Whitney cheated on him, lied to him, and put him into debt he had only recently climbed out from.

No, he wouldn’t even think about getting back together with her.

Even though the divorce weighed on him and he wanted to spend more time with Austin, I doubted he would rekindle whatever was left of the marriage that woman sent up in flames.

But if she did anything to hurt my brother, I would explode.

Deep breath, I told myself. Jack was a grown-up; he could take care of himself. Still, I hurt when he hurt, so I hoped this was just a minor bump.

I wish he would have told me what was going on because my mind always went to the worst-case scenario.

After reading the police report Josie had sent me, I’d set up a meeting with Lena Clark, the guidance counselor, who sounded happy to talk to me.

Sun Valley High School consisted of two distinct buildings.

The brick “old school” was built around a central courtyard, while the “new school” to the east was a large three-story structure, constructed in the last decade to replace a worn-out building that dated back to the dark ages.

I wasn’t fond of the modern design of the new building, which seemed more suited to an office complex than a school.

The administrative wing occupied the western end of the old school, which is where I headed for my meeting with Lena Clark.

I introduced myself to the receptionist and informed her of my appointment; within minutes, Lena came to the lobby.

She was a petite, trim fortysomething with dyed blond hair, dressed in a long black skirt, white blouse, and gray blazer—with more necklaces hanging around her neck than I even owned.

She wore platform heels, but still didn’t top my very average height. “Ms. Angelhart?”

“That’s me.”

She extended her hand. “I was surprised to get your call.”

“Thank you for making the time to meet.”

“Anything I can do for the Martinez family.” She motioned for me to follow her through a door she opened with a card key.

She led me down a long wide hall with offices to the right and floor-to-ceiling windows on the left, which looked out to the partly covered courtyard.

The office’s interior windows would receive natural light without any direct sun, a plus in Arizona.

Lena’s spacious office had two windows that looked out into the hall, a couch, three chairs across from her uncluttered desk, and a round conference table that could seat six.

Two walls were filled with bookshelves neatly crammed with college prep material, college brochures, and labeled binders.

“Full disclosure,” I said when she closed the door behind me. “My cousin is Officer Josie Morales, who spoke here last week. She shared some of your conversation with me.”

“I like Officer Morales,” Lena said with a genuine smile.

“She was so good with the students, straightforward and honest. We haven’t had a school resource officer for the last several years.

We were supposed to have someone at the beginning of the school year, but it hasn’t happened yet.

Tell her for me that I think she would make an excellent SRO.

It’s a position not all those in law enforcement can do well. ”

“I’ll tell her,” I said. Josie would be embarrassed that Lena was singing her praises, but her parents would be thrilled. What parents don’t love hearing great things about their children, even when they’re all grown-up? I tucked away the info to share with the family on Thursday.

Lena sat at the table and motioned for me to sit across from her.

“As I mentioned on the phone, Alina Martinez hired me to find out exactly how Elijah obtained the drugs and where he was during the hours before the fatal overdose.”

She nodded solemnly. “It’s heartbreaking.”

“You told police that you knew Elijah well, and saw no sign of drug use. Would you recognize signs?” I assumed she would, but wanted to start with an easy question.

“Absolutely. I have more than twenty years’ experience in the public education system, the last eleven as a guidance counselor.

Sadly, drug use is not rare, though I’ve seen some pushback among young people in the last few years.

Still, we’re an urban, Title I school with nearly two thousand students.

Many of our youth struggle with drug and mental health issues.

And, there are unfortunately high achievers who use drugs as a study aid.

Students have been known to share or sell their ADHD medication—there is a large market for it. ”

That wasn’t new. When I graduated fifteen years ago kids were selling their meds.

“Do you have knowledge or suspicion that Elijah was taking such medication?”

“He wasn’t prescribed anything that we were aware of, and like I told Josie, I didn’t see any signs that Elijah was a habitual drug user, but he did put a lot of pressure on himself to excel.”

“So you’re thinking it’s possible.”

“Again, I never saw or heard anything, but teens handle pressure in different ways, and Elijah wanted to be valedictorian.”

“Could he have been?”

She hesitated, then said, “Probably not, but he was a contender. I’d say he was one of five or six students who are in the running.”

“Is there a lot of competition for the position? Rivalries?”

“Some,” Lena said. “But the valedictorian is selected by a teacher committee and in addition to grades and difficulty of classes, they look at extracurricular activities, contributions to the school, things like that.”

I glanced at my notes. “Alina mentioned three friends Elijah was particularly close to. Peter Barilla, Andy Perez, and Angie Williams. Do you know them?”

“I know Angie well, she’s in the honors program with Elijah.

Peter and Andy I don’t know well, but they have never been in serious trouble.

” She went to her computer, typed, then swiveled in her chair towards me.

“Peter is only on campus in the mornings because of a school-work program. Andy was in Honors Math with Elijah. I don’t think any of them are involved with drugs.

Certainly not Peter, who had to submit to drug testing for the work program. ”

“Is Angie Elijah’s girlfriend? His mother said no, but...” I left it open.

Lena shook her head. “They were friends and in most of the same classes, but I didn’t see anything that made me think they were involved in that way.” Lena paused, then added, “Angie was particularly angry about the police investigation.”

“How so?”

“Angie has a difficult home life. She’s channeled her anger toward this tragedy.

Elijah’s death, the police investigation, the closed case.

She cut school several days last week. I told her on Friday that I would try to get her absences excused since she had lost one of her closest friends, but I expected her here today. ”

“And she’s not,” I guessed.

“I’ve done everything I can to find answers for her and, frankly, for myself.

I called the detective. Spoke to the principal and the entire administrative team.

If the school puts pressure on the police, that might open things up.

I even sent an email to the school board.

But Angie thinks nothing is enough because everyone believes—her words—Elijah’s death was his fault. She thinks no one cares.”

“What do you think?”

“I think the police closed the case too quickly and we have a lot of questions and no answers,” Lena said.

“But the idea that someone drugged him on purpose seems like grasping at straws. He had a part-time job, was in advanced classes, applying to colleges—some kids think that a little bit of something will take the edge off. I’m not saying that’s what happened, just that it does happen.

When I suggested that to Angie, she walked away angry.

However, the police should have done more to find out what happened the night he died. ”

“I have Angie’s address,” I said. “But if I can’t track her down, would you be willing to ask her to call me?

You can even be in the meeting if that would make you or Angie more comfortable.

” I would much rather talk to Angie in private—she might open up more without a parent or teacher in the room.

Lena nodded. “It may help her to know that someone is looking for answers. But please don’t get her hopes up. She is focused on one theory and won’t even consider a different answer. Sometimes, people we think we know disappoint us.”

“Just so you know, I’ll be talking to Elijah’s other friends too.”

“That’s more than the police did,” Lena said. “I thought if one of Elijah’s friends knew something, the police would get it from them. Detective King claimed to have spoken to his friends and family, but she didn’t speak to Angie. She closed the case too quickly, in my opinion.”

It was now obvious to me why Josie had butted heads with King, and why Josie’s boss had told her to lay low. Likely, Lena had mentioned options to King that perhaps Josie had planted in her head.

“What about bullies? Was Elijah considered a bully? Was anyone harassing him?”

“Elijah was one of the nicest kids in the school, and I never heard that he had been bullied. We take the issue very seriously.”

Maybe, but there were different levels of bullying, and subtle harassment might not be on anyone’s radar. Especially if it happened off-campus.

There was a knock on the door and Lena called, “Come in.”

A man a couple years older than Lena entered.

“Am I interrupting?” he asked.

“Of course not,” Lena said. “Margo, this is Dwight Parsons, history teacher and Elijah’s advisor. Dwight, Margo Angelhart is a private investigator looking into Elijah’s death.”

He glanced at Lena. “I didn’t realize you were going to hire a private investigator.”

“Elijah’s family did,” Lena said.

Lena touched Dwight’s hand, a subtle but intimate gesture. Okay, a little love on campus. Who was I to judge?

“I’m glad you can help Alina find some closure,” he said, “but sadly, it won’t bring Elijah back.”

“You knew Elijah well?” I asked Dwight.

“I think so. He’s been in two of my honors classes, and I agreed to write him a college recommendation.” He shook his head and frowned. “Such a tragedy. He was a bright boy.”

“Too much pressure?”

“Only what he put on himself,” Dwight said.

“Which was quite a bit. Because of his socioeconomic situation, and the fact that his father died when he was young, he was already eligible for several grants, and with his grades I was helping him forge a path for free tuition and housing. But you have to apply and do the work, which can be overwhelming.”

“Are you aware of any of Elijah’s peers who may have been adding to that pressure?” I asked. “Or,” I continued when he didn’t immediately answer, “maybe sharing Adderall or similar meds. Overachieving teens sometimes do that.”

Dwight shook his head. “Not Elijah or his friends. I know a few kids who may be using stimulants for such purposes, but they don’t move in the same circles.”

“Several years ago one of our teachers was arrested for running a drug ring on campus,” Lena said. “After, the administration made sure we all had extra training and support.”

“It was very informative,” Dwight said. “I think our school has done a stellar job reducing drug-related problems on campus.”

“Absolutely,” Lena concurred. “And anything we can do to help you find out what happened to Elijah, we will. Is there anything else?”

Before I could respond—or ask more questions about the former drug ring—a tall, stately woman stepped into the doorway. Lena glanced at the clock. “Melissa—I forgot about the staff meeting. We’re just wrapping up here.”

“Did I hear right?” Melissa looked at me. “You’re conducting an investigation on school property?”

“No,” Lena said quickly before I could answer. “This is, um, Ms. Angelhart. Elijah’s mother hired her, I was just answering a few questions.”

“Confidentiality still applies, Lena,” the woman said.

This was awkward. I would have slipped out, but the woman blocked the exit.

“Of course, I would not violate any student’s privacy, but—”

“There are no buts,” Melissa said.

Principal or vice principal, I thought. It was in the attitude.

“I’ll be leaving,” I said and made a move toward the door. Melissa didn’t budge.

“Ms. Angelhart,” she said, “I’m Melissa Webb, the vice principal of Sun Valley. If you wish to speak to any student or staff member, contact my office first. Understood?”

I bristled. She spoke as if I were one of her students or staff.

“I can speak to anyone I want,” I said though I should have kept my mouth shut.

Her eyes flashed. “Not on my campus.”

“I’m outta here.” I brushed past her.

What had been a productive conversation had gone south real fast.

I was now on my own to find Angie.