Page 73 of Good Girls Lie

He laughs, low and mean. “You think I can’t smell the alcohol on all y’all’s breaths? I most certainly do have cause, they’re underage. You aren’t, but I’ve seen you bleary-eyed enough to recognize you’ve had a few yourself. Do you think the parents would be happy about that? One of their kids dies while you’re partying?”

“I was not. My God, Tony. You can be so cruel. And you wonder why I broke it off.”

He takes a huge breath, blows it out. “If you’d like to stop being dramatic, you can let me have a civilized chat with the kid, outside of the influence of her girlfriend. Or a lawyer. There could be a simple explanation. It was pretty clear the older girl—Becca?—was controlling what Ash had to say. She was gripping Ash’s hand so tight it was turning white. Let me do my job, and I won’t interfere with yours.”

Ford is deeply stung by his words, by the truth she hears in them, though she isn’t going to let him know it.

“Fine. I will have to be there. You don’t talk to her alone. She’s been through a horrible trauma and she’s barely holding herself together.”

“What trauma, Ford? Exactly.”

“Over the summer, her father, Sir Damien Carr, committed suicide. When her mother discovered him, she shot herself. Ash found the two of them while her mother was still alive, barely. She died in her arms. It’s been terribly hard for her, as you can imagine. Now this...”

A hard, pitiless edge flashes in the sheriff’s eyes. He has cop eyes. Dead eyes. Ford shivers internally—this is why she and Tony can’t be together. There is something cold at his core. He has a mean streak. It felt dangerously fun in the beginning, but she quickly realized he can’t turn it off. It’s his coping mechanism for all the horrors he’s seen, or so he says. She knows exactly what he’s thinking—Ash has been connected to three deaths in two months.

Four, really, there’s been another death, but Muriel Grassley doesn’t count. Ash had nothing to do with that accident.

Still, maybe she should call Alan. Or even her mother.

At the very thought of Jude phoning her relentlessly tonight from her command post at the house, the kitchen table scattered, no doubt, with crystal glasses and empty bottles, Ford’s spine stiffens. No. She can handle Tony.

“I will shut this down the moment I feel it’s becoming too much for her to handle. She has nothing to do with this, Tony.”

“Understood. And I’m sorry to hear about her folks. That’s tough. I’ll be delicate. Kate?” he calls, and his niece hurries to his side. “Let’s talk to her.”

Tony’s holster smacks against the doorframe as they go back into the room. The gun is big, wicked. Ford hates to see it in her school. It makes everything that happened tonight feel so irreversible.

Inside, Ash looks fragile and broken. She is slumped in the chair, tears running freely down her cheeks. When she sees them enter, she sits up and wipes her arm across her face.

Tony perches one butt cheek on the desk, and Ford grits her teeth to stop from snapping,That’s an antique, you moron, at him.

“Ash, I know this is hard. I also know your friend was trying to keep you from talking to me. Now that we’re alone, what would you like to tell me about this evening? You were tapped for a secret society?”

“I can’t talk about it.”

“Ash, I give you permission to discuss everything that happened tonight with the sheriff. Nothing said here will leave this room.” Ford smooths a hand over Ash’s arm. Within seconds, Ash is rubbing the spot. The poison ivy...Lord, don’t tell them about the poison ivy, he’ll have all our heads.

“There’s nothing to say.”

Thatta girl.Ford says aloud, “You can give us details about the night without divulging the secrets of the society.”

“All right. They came to my room, yelled at me for a while, then we went to another room, they yelled awhile longer, then they sent us back to bed. Nothing that had anything to do with Camille. Camille was gone before they came. She had a summons to the attics. I don’t know from whom.”

“Did you see anyone other than the girls from the tap while you were out of bed?”

“No. No one. We were... It was in a private place, and I’ll be honest, I have no idea where it was. Somewhere on campus, though.”

Ford interjects, “There are a number of abandoned outbuildings, old staff cottages. The societies like to sneak into them and have their meetings. It’s not sanctioned, per se, but we do keep them in repair so no one gets hurt.”

“All right. Ash, your shirt is torn. Did that happen during the tap?”

“No, sir. When I got back to the room, I took a shower and put on fresh clothes.”

“This isn’t what you wore for the tap?”

“No. I was...dirty. The room we were in was quite dusty.”

“Are the clothes you wore to the tap still in your room?”