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Joan Thompson cast a curious eye at Carrie while inviting her into her office at Clear River High School.

“Have a seat,” Joan said. “Sofia suggested we meet.”

“Yes, I took English lit with her here. Thank you.”

Joan nodded. “I understand it was before my time at the school, and around the time when—” Joan stopped. “Well, it was a long time ago.” She smiled. “Sofia said you’re considering our pre-K program for your daughter, Emily?”

“Yes.” Carrie nodded to Emily in the stroller. “I wanted to get a start, learning about it.”

Joan slid on her oversize red-framed glasses and flashed a smile at Emily.

“Hi, honey.” Joan bent down. “Such a sweetheart. Of course, she’s too young for admission now, but many parents inquire early. Let me outline a few things for you.”

“Yes, thank you.”

Joan sat at her desk. “Our pre-K is at Clear River Elementary, next door. But it’s administered from here, for now.”

For the next few minutes, she went into the virtues of the program: the full-day schedule; teacher-to-student ratio; employing early-childhood specialists. Carrie was only partly lis tening. Her pulse had picked up—she corralled her thoughts because things were moving faster for her. She’d finished work at home early, thankful her boss in California, who’d seen much of the recent national news coverage on the murders, was allowing her time when she needed it.

Like today.

Carrie was grateful to Sofia. Unable to see Carrie at the school, Sofia had quickly arranged for her to meet with Joan. Just the person for you , she’d said. But the truth was, going through the security procedure for a meeting about Clear River’s preschool program was a cover.

Carrie had another motive for revisiting Clear River High School.

“…all to say…the goal of our program is to serve students and parents as best we can.”

Joan clasped her hands on her desk, signaling she had finished.

“Thank you so much for this,” Carrie said, standing to leave.

“Certainly. We can always look into possible advance placement for Emily when she’s older. Get in touch if you have any questions.”

Joan moved to open her door. “I’ll take you back to the front office, to sign out.”

“Can I make a small request?”

“Of course.”

“Would it be all right if I left alone?”

“Oh. Well, I’m supposed to escort visitors to the office. Is there a problem?”

“On my way out, I wanted to stop at the common area.”

“The common area?”

“Yes, to see the memorial display.”

“I could go with you.”

“I, well, I’d like to see it alone, if I could.”

Blinking behind her big glasses, Joan took a moment, raising her chin as realization dawned.

“Yes, I understand. That should be fine. Be sure to sign out at the office and return your visitor badge.”

Classes were still in session. The locker-lined halls were empty. But before Carrie got far, her phone vibrated with a message that lifted her eyebrows. It was Pearl.

Hi honey. Having fun in Melbourne. Got a newshound passenger friend who says something’s happening with the case in Clear River. What’s going on? Is everything OK?

Hit with a wave of guilt, a lump rising in her throat, Carrie answered.

We’re OK. There has been a development. Hyde confessed. It’s over. We can move on. Let’s talk when you get back.

Carrie hated not being forthright with Pearl, but she set her regret aside. As she pushed Emily’s stroller down the smooth, glossy floor to the common area, her breathing quickened. Dr. Bernay had been right—visiting locations linked to the murders had proven conducive to unlocking memories: the cafeteria, the woods, the dance hall. Little by little, Carrie was recovering puzzle pieces.

And one of the worst—Opal’s allegation—bored into her heart.

She stopped at the glass case of the memorial display. This was her second time seeing it, but her first chance to study it, another key to the past. There were Abby and Erin, with their pretty clothes, smiling their bright-eyed smiles, forever beautiful in their photos. Between them, a plaque gleamed, turning it into more of a shrine, Carrie thought as she read the tribute about promising lives “cut too short,” “to remain forever in our hearts.”

Not a word about Carrie.

Is it because I got to live?

Are the answers here, with Abby and Erin?

Now, standing at the display, staring hard into their faces, their eyes like falling stars, Carrie’s mind swirled into a whirlwind pulling her back…

…to the dance hall parking lot…the party music thudding… Abby and Erin glittering in the darkness… “Meet us at the woods…tomorrow at three…you can’t tell anyone…it’s about your dad…”

Carrie gives no answer…shaken, suspicious. Why meet in the woods? Returning to the party…music hammering…devils and demons dancing…she stays until it’s time to leave. Her dad will be waiting in his truck. She threads through the departing clusters of monsters…a flash of glitter…

Abby, resolute, mouths, Three tomorrow , moving away… Erin, resolved, makes certain Carrie sees three fingers… What do they know about her father? Carrie nods to Erin…she’ll go, but she doesn’t trust them…

She finds her dad’s truck, climbs in… He turns to her, the wicked witch sitting next to him…studying her…as if detecting unease… “Did you have a nice time?”

And suddenly she thinks of his arguments with her mother…doors slamming…him leaving…in Principal Taylor’s office holding his hat, the earth shaking… The casket descending into the cold, cold ground… Now, sitting next to him…yes, definitely, she decides, she will meet Abby and Erin in the woods…she’ll keep it secret…

“Carrie? Did you have a good time?”

The wicked witch turns to him. “I had a great time, Dad.”