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THE POLICE OFFICER sitting in the vice principal’s office is in his early thirties, with dark eyes, brown skin, and strong, straight teeth. Constable Kash Gill is our school liaison officer, which means he spends several days a week at the school in a (somewhat controversial) effort to develop a positive relationship between students and the police force. He is also regularly employed to explain the harsh realities of the law to kids whose behavior flirts with the illegal.

Fiona Carmichael is seated between the cop and me, while Monica Carruthers sits behind her desk. When the vice principal invited me to this meeting, she’d said, “I’d like you to be there to support Fiona. Constable Kash is going to come down hard, and I think the seriousness of this situation is going to be upsetting for her.”

Monica clearly doesn’t know Fiona like I do. From what I’ve seen, the girl has unwavering bravado and a remarkable lack of conscience (much like her dark overlord). But I have a job to do. “Of course, I’ll support her.”

Constable Gill’s voice is firm as he addresses the blond girl beside me. “Distributing or making available an intimate image of a person, without their consent, is an indictable offense, Fiona. You could get up to five years in prison.”

“Abby took her own clothes off when she was freaking out,” Fiona counters. “That’s not my fault.”

“She wasn’t ‘freaking out,’” I correct her. “She was overdosing.”

The girl ignores me, looks at Constable Gill with wide eyes. “Can a minor really be sent to jail for posting a video that they didn’t even take?”

She’s on to him. She’s so savvy. But Kash is a seasoned cop. “It’s rare, but minors can be tried as adults in some cases. It’s also possible that Abby’s parents could sue your parents in civil court.”

“Abby’s in intensive therapy,” I add. “Her parents have had to take significant time off work. It’s costing them a lot, Fiona. Emotionally and financially.”

The girl is quiet, eyes in her lap. We’re finally getting through to her.

“It would be in your best interest to tell us what you know about that night,” Kash says gently. “Who took the video? Who supplied the drugs?”

No response.

Monica leans forward in her ergonomic chair. “Once the police and lawyers are involved, kids tend to get loose lips. And now that we have the anonymous reporting portal, someone will tell us what really happened at Abby’s party.”

Fiona looks up, meets the vice principal’s gaze. “I doubt that.”

Her words send a chill through me. Monica’s eyes narrow. “What makes you say that?”

“I don’t know…” The teen shrugs. “No one really likes Abby. I don’t think they’d want to see someone else get into trouble for what she did to herself.”

No fear, no remorse, no empathy. Fiona Carmichael is a sociopath.

“I have another appointment…” I say, tapping my watch. Fiona obviously doesn’t need my support. She’s the furthest thing from upset. She’s controlling the entire situation.

“I think we’re done here.” I hear the defeat in Monica’s voice as I scurry from the room.

I hadn’t confronted Liza about the concerning texts from Wyatt when she got home from work last night. It was late, we were both exhausted, and despite my training and experience, I felt overwhelmed. I hope that I’m blowing the exchange out of proportion, that it’s some kind of inside joke or even a technical glitch. I’m still rattled by the abusive emails I received, and that could be clouding my perception. I’m meeting Adrian at a coffee shop near the beach to discuss Wyatt’s texts.

My ex is seated near the back, two paper coffee cups on the round table before him. He’s scrolling through his phone, dressed in jeans and a golf shirt with his company’s logo on the breast. Adrian is in property management, which sounds completely legitimate until he reveals that the property he manages belongs to his parents. His salary is a tax write-off for them. Adrian’s mom still does all the books, and his dad enjoys taking care of the gardens and engaging with tenants. Adrian’s job consists of placing a vacancy ad once in a blue moon and calling the occasional plumber. And yet, during our marriage, he was incapable of handling even the most basic domestic responsibilities. Martha called him a baby-man. Or was it a man-baby?

“Hey,” I say, sitting down and reaching for a cup. “Thanks for the latte.”

“It’s green tea,” he says quickly. “For Tori.”

“Tori’s coming?” My tone is arch.

“She’s Liza’s parent, too.” But he sounds unconvinced himself.

On cue, Tori swoops in. “Sorry I’m late.” She kisses Adrian with an audible smack. Tori is tall and willowy with a blunt dark bob. She has a successful real estate staging business and dresses the part of stylish professional: cropped jacket, flowing trousers, statement jewelry. Tori runs marathons in her spare time (what spare time?). She is younger, fitter, and sexier than I am, but that’s not why I don’t like her. Okay, it’s part of it, but there are other reasons, which, I suspect, are about to become abundantly clear.

She sits and takes a sip of her green tea. “Camryn, do you need to get yourself a coffee?”

“I’m fine. I don’t have long.”

“What did Wyatt’s texts say exactly?” Adrian asks.

“It wasn’t what they said. It was how often he said it. It was just ‘where are you?’ over and over again. It seemed possessive. Even obsessive.”

“Liza and Wyatt spend a lot of time at our house,” Tori says, placing her hand on top of Adrian’s. “We’ve intentionally created a chill space where they can hang out and be comfortable. Just be themselves.”

Unlike the North Korean prison camp that is my apartment.

“We’ve never seen any signs of possessiveness,” Adrian says, echoing my own experience. “And Liza is a tough cookie. I don’t think she’d put up with it.”

Tori adds, “Wyatt is so gentle. He’s so supportive. He’s the gardener and Liza is the flower.”

“I work with teens,” I say, struggling to keep the defensiveness from my voice. “I know they can present a very different image around adults. And this is a fraught time. Liza and Wyatt are going to break up in a few months. That can trigger unhealthy, controlling behaviors.”

Tori’s eyes are on her tea. “They might not be breaking up.”

“They’re going to try the long-distance thing?” I ask. “From Australia to Toronto?”

Adrian sighs, leans back in his chair. “Liza’s not sure she wants to go straight to college, Cam. She’s considering deferring for a year. Maybe traveling with Wyatt and some other friends.”

“Since when?” I ask.

“She’s been afraid to tell you,” Tori adds. “She thinks you’ll try to talk her out of it.”

“She thinks you’ll be disappointed,” Adrian says, “but we need to support her. Liza’s a great kid. She should be allowed to spread her wings.”

I am disappointed, but that’s a “me” issue. I’m more concerned. Is Wyatt manipulating my daughter’s life decisions? Influencing her plans for the future? Or is he, as Tori believes, just a gentle gardener nurturing a flower?

“How can she afford that?” I ask. “She doesn’t make much at the burger shop.”

Adrian flushes slightly. “My parents offered to pay. A graduation gift.”

Damn my rich ex-in-laws.

“I’ll talk to her,” I mumble, already getting up. “I need to get back to work.”

“Let me know how it goes,” Adrian calls after me.

“Let us both know,” Tori says.

“Sure.” I hurry out the door.