Page 84 of Good Girls Lie

Kate laughs. “You are a sick man.”

“I take it you’re on the case, Sherlock?”

She hasn’t shared her status with him, isn’t about to now. “No, no, not at all. The school is in my uncle’s territory. I was visiting. Bad timing.”

“What do you need to know, love?”

“I’m not sure. Something about the daughter feels strange to me. A lot of people have died around her recently. Seems odd for a sixteen-year-old. I’m grasping at straws, probably.”

“Maybe, maybe not. You always have had sound instincts. You figured me out rather quickly if I recall.”

Oliver is a closet queen, perfectly happy to lead a quiet, not-out life with his also closeted, quiet, not-out roommate, Eric. They’re desperately in love but won’t admit it. Not her problem, but she picked up on it when she met them the first time, at a cocktail party in DC, an international forensics conference they all attended.

It’s a shame, too. They could be very happy together.

Oliver is also a proud member of the Metropolitan Police’s Forensic Services division. She’s used him as a sounding board in the past; he has a keen insight into murder.

She hears a keyboard tapping. “I’m sending you the files I have on the Carrs. I can look deeper—”

“It’s okay, Oliver. I’m being gossipy, as well as morbidly curious. Must be hard for a kid to lose both parents like that. And then her roommate... It’s just curious, that’s all.”

“Hmm. I’d say. Well, I’ll send along what I have for giggles, and if you need anything else, you let me know.”

“Wonderful. Love to Eric. Sleep well.”

“Your lips to God’s ears,” he says, blowing her a kiss.

A moment later her email dings. The file he’s sent is big enough she’ll need to wait until she gets to her laptop to open it.

She gets out of the car and heads into the OCME. Might as well stay focused here. She can read all about British intrigue later.

50

THE SPEECH

Ford stands in her spot at the head of the chapel, looking at the sea of dazed, exhausted faces assembling before her as the girls of Goode file into the pews. She hasn’t slept, knows she looks disarrayed. Nothing matters more than tending to her girls.

This was her mother’s first commandment—a unity speech. Fill in the girls on the situation. Assure them they are safe, well looked after, cared for.

The logic is sound, so Ford called for an immediate convocation. The bells rang, word passed quickly, like a fire drill, and they came flooding in, wordless and crying, or laughing, some of them, nasty things.

She isn’t used to seeing the girls mixed together, all classes merged, most not wearing their robes or properly uniformed, instead scared and exhausted and sad, doe eyes from almost all of them, waiting for her to share the horrible truth and then to fix things.

She has to do this, if only to quell the rumors.

“Ladies,” she commands, and the room hushes.

“I’m sure you’ve all heard that we lost a student last night. I want to address what we know, and what we don’t. First, the student was Camille Shannon, a sophomore. We believe, sadly, that she took her own life. A journal found in her room talks about death, and suicide, as a way out of a situation she found herself in. This is very private, and I will not be discussing it with you per her family’s request.

“What I’m here to say is, I failed Camille. And in turn, I’ve failed you, her friends, her fellow students. I wasn’t made aware of this situation. I didn’t know Camille was hurting. It is not an excuse, though I can’t begin to know what might have been if we were aware of her suffering. Rather than look back, we will move forward. I see this tragic moment in our tenure together as an opportunity.

“Our Honor Code exists for many reasons. Paramount is honesty and forthrightness in all facets of our lives, yes. But it is also meant to be a safety net. I’m not sure why no one came forward to let us know about the undercurrents that have been circulating the past few weeks. The health and welfare of your own selves is just as important as the health and welfare of your friends. Being honest and trustworthy is more than telling the truth. It is also reaching out a hand when a friend needs it. When someone is struggling. It might feel like you’re betraying a confidence, but believe me, when the option is to tell one of us you’re concerned about a compatriot’s state of mind or lose your friend forever, you must always err on the side of caution.”

Ford looks at Ash now, sitting meekly by Becca’s side. “You are not to blame, not in the least, but we encourage you to share with your teachers, share with your student leadership, share with me. Anything and everything. In the spirit of this, we will accept anonymous insights this week. And you may feel free to leave concerns with me as well as with your head girl, Becca Curtis.”

There are murmurs at this. The Honor Code model is sacrosanct; Goode has always insisted that the accuser and the accused meet face-to-face. Anonymity is discouraged. But no more. Ford will not have this happen again. Too much is going on behind her back.

“Yesterday morning Camille received a summons. None of the seniors we’ve spoken with know who sent the request for her to go to the Commons. If any one of you has knowledge of this, please, I urge you, come forward. We need to determine what might have sent Camille over the...”