Page 130 of Good Girls Lie

Rumi brakes hard, tires squealing, throwing her forward into the leather and wood of the front seat. She jumped in the back out of habit, ignoring his scowl of disapproval.

“Just drive. Hurry.” And he had, peeling out of the garage.

She leaps from the car and races up the street, panting in panicked little breaths.

And sees why Melanie was so frantic.

One of her girls dangles backward from the tall, iron gates guarding the school’s entrance. There is a red tie around her neck, forcing her head to an almost comical angle. Her face is obscured, her hair is damp, making it hard to decipher color. She is wearing Goode School robes with a graduation stole around her shoulders.

Ford’s first thought:Another suicide. Oh, God.

Her second:Who is it?

You know exactly who it is. Stop deluding yourself. And you know what this means. If you’d acted when you had the chance instead of frolicking with Rumi, she’d still be alive.

She drags in a breath and starts to gather the girls together. “Come here, ladies, come here. Stop looking.”

Though she is looking, looking, looking. She already knows who is hanging on the gate, has that sense in her gut, but she has to be sure. She has to see for herself.

The eerie wail of a siren pierces the morning air—it’s so damp, did it rain last night?—and then the siren is deafening, shrieking at her, screaming its impotent fury.

The squawk to silence is broken by Tony slamming the door of his cruiser and running into the scene. He stops when he sees the gates, his face white, then gestures, waving her off, and Ford understands immediately.

He has to look up close, I have to get them out of here. He doesn’t want them to see her face, her beautiful face.

Rumi is by Ford’s side now, too, giving orders to the girls to move away. His arms are stretched wide and he herds them back, back, until they are almost all standing on the sidewalk across the street.

“Come away, over here, that’s right.”

It’s hardly far enough, but it gives the cops room to work.

Tony nods to the deputy who’s ridden with him, and he starts putting up a cordon between the students and the crime scene.

Another approaches the body and, to Ford’s absolute horror, begins taking photographs of the scene.

“Is this necessary?” she says to Tony, who nods, his eyes severe and dark. She hasn’t seen him like this before, and it chills her to the bone.

His voice is remote, commanding. “Unfortunately, yes. Ford. Have you touched the body?”

“No. Melanie found her when she came in this morning, she called me, then you. Or you, then me, I don’t know.”

“Do you know who it is?”

“I don’t.”

But she does. Of course, she does. It’s just too fitting, with everything that’s happened, everything she’s learned. What an ending to her story.

“Keep the girls away. You don’t want them to see this,” Tony says.

Rumi makes a cutting motion, which she reads asI’ve got this.

“We’re working on it. I’m staying with you.”

“Okay.” Tony takes a few shots with his own iPhone, then gently, gently, reaches for the foot of the dead girl and slowly turns her around. She spins easily on the tie around her neck, bumping against the gate. Gasps and cries fill the air, and Ford cries out along with the rest of them.

Her face is ruined, holes where her eyes should be. Her skin is gray. Her hair runs in wet ropes down her face and shoulders, and a red silk noose is wrapped around her neck and tied to the bars of the gate. Her hands are covered in gore.

While moments ago, Ford was dealing with a suicide, now there is no question that this is something more, something deeper, and she feels faint. It is the most horrific sight she has ever beheld and she starts to sag, but Tony grabs her elbow and squeezes hard, holding her upright. “Don’t. Stay with me. They need you. Be strong.”