The Sixes

So that’s it, Phoebe thought. I’ve stepped on his big fat toes. She felt a sudden urge to let a little air out of that ego of his, but quickly submerged the instinct. If she were going to continue with her investigation, she would need his cooperation.

“I’m sorry, Tom,” Phoebe said. “I’d run it by Glenda, and I thought you were in the loop. She probably assumed I’d informed you.”

“So tell me what you learned from Alexis,” he said, moving on now that she’d been duly reprimanded.

She described what the girl had shared—including all the gory details about the circles of membership.

“Jesus,” Stockton said when she’d finished. “Not exactly the campfire girls, are they?”

“No, they’re certainly not. Does this circle stuff ring any bells with you? The deleted term papers, for instance?”

“Actually, yes,” he said, stroking his chin between his thumb and forefinger. “We’re used to those ‘dog-ate- my-homework’ kind of excuses here, but there were a couple of incidents recently that concerned me. Within one week, two different students reported having a term paper they were working on deleted from their laptops while they were in the library. They’d been sitting in the same section of the library, and had gotten up briefly. In one case to go to the ladies’ room, and in the other to locate a book. From what I could determine, they didn’t know each other.”

“What about anonymous postings about sexual encounters?”

“That I’m not aware of specifically. We know that cyber bullying goes on with kids, but it’s an elusive thing because they don’t like to come forward. I hope Alexis named names.”

“No, she refused.”

“Well, that’s the only way we can speed up shutting these girls down. I had Blair Usher in for another talk this morning, but she just plays totally dumb. Claims she’s heard of the group, but has no idea if anyone she knows is in it. Why would Alexis insist on protecting them at this point?”

“She’s fearful of further recriminations.”

“You mean, reaching-beyond-the-grave kind of thing? I’d say that’s overreacting a bit, wouldn’t you?”

“No, these girls seem pretty fierce. Has Glenda had a chance to tell you about what the Sixes did to me—the rats?”

He wrinkled his nose, as if a putrid smell had just blasted into the room.

“Yes, a grisly business. I wish I could devote more of my attention to it, but I’ve got the Lily Mack situation to deal with. And that comes first.”

Phoebe realized she needed to bring Stockton up to speed on her conversation with Wesley. But as she started to speak, someone knocked on the door. Stockton called for the person to enter, and to Phoebe’s surprise, Val Porter stepped inside.

“Oh good, Val, you’re here,” Stockton said.

What was this all about? Phoebe wondered. Val smiled at Stockton but only ran her eyes quickly over Phoebe’s face, as if she were a stranger on a train platform.

“I’ve asked Val to join our discussion,” Stockton told Phoebe. “Needless to say Val has a wonderful understanding of female adolescent behavior, and I thought it would be helpful to obtain her input on the Sixes.”

Phoebe could barely hide her annoyance. Just because the woman taught courses like Introduction to Feminist Theory and Geographies of Gender hardly made her an expert on secret girl societies.

Val took a seat at the other end of the sofa, but close enough for Phoebe to pick up the scent of patchouli. Val’s hair was pinned on her head tonight, and silvery tendrils hung loosely around her face in that boho style she favored. Phoebe wondered what Val’s reaction would be if she learned Phoebe had been to bed with Duncan.

“So how can I help?” Val said, addressing the question mainly to Stockton. She grasped a silver tendril between the index and middle fingers on her right hand and slowly slid it through her fingers.

“I’ll let Phoebe fill you in,” Stockton said. “She’s had an interesting trip to the Baltimore area.”

“Baltimore?” Val said. “What has that got to do with anything?”

Phoebe practically glared at Stockton.

“Unfortunately,” Phoebe said, “it’s not appropriate for me to share details about my visit down there with anyone else, since I promised confidentiality.” She turned to Val. “What I can share is that the Sixes is capable of being extremely cruel and nasty. A psychologist I talked to said that it’s girl power run amuck, and it isn’t uncommon at this stage of their lives. Does that jibe with what you’ve seen in your gender classes?”

“Until Tom mentioned it to me, I’d never heard of this little group, so I really don’t have much to contribute.” Val’s self-satisfied tone, however, suggested that they were about to hear an opinion regardless. “That said, I could see female students here banding together to encourage a sense of empowerment.”

“Are you saying the girls here need a boost?” Phoebe asked.

“Good God, no,” Val said. “The women at Lyle—like the women at most colleges today—are smart, proactive, and ambitious. They arrive here thinking that they’ll meet men of their equal, men superior to the slacker boys they attended high school with, but that’s not the case. They soon discover that it was much tougher for them to be admitted to the school than their male counterparts—we have fewer male applicants these days, so we lower the standards for them. The boys aren’t up to par socially or intellectually, and that can wear on the women very quickly. Banding together would at least be a way for them to experience solidarity and sense of purpose.”

“You’re not suggesting it’s a good thing, are you?”

“No, Phoebe,” Val said. “I don’t believe that’s what I said at all.”

“Are there any girls in particular who you think might—”

The door to Stockton’s office suddenly flew open, and all three of them turned in unison. Glenda stood in the doorway, her face etched with concern.

“What’s happened?” Tom asked.

“Trevor Harris—the student Lily Mack was dating?” Glenda said. “They found a body in the river late this afternoon, and the cops are pretty sure it’s him.”

16

“WHAT?” TOM SAID, shooting up from the chair. “How did you hear this?”

“Craig and I were called down to the police station just a little while ago. Michelson told us.”

“And does it mean Trevor was actually living in the area this whole time?” Stockton asked.

Glenda shook her head quickly back and forth.

“The body’s badly decomposed, so he probably died last spring. I assume, since it’s too soon for DNA results, that they found some type of ID on him. He never took off for parts unknown, as everyone suspected.”

Phoebe felt numb. It was another endorsement of Tom’s serial killer theory. There was even a pattern emerging, she realized. Scott had died a year ago this past spring. The following fall Wesley Hines had found himself in the river. Trevor had obviously died this spring, and now Lily this fall. It felt to Phoebe like one of those ridiculous but terrifying slasher movies she’d seen trailers for—where bodies of teen victims pile up at regular intervals.

Phoebe started to blurt out what she’d learned from Wesley, but then caught herself. She didn’t want to share the info in front of Val.

“But I don’t get it,” Stockton said. He’d started to pace, arms across his chest. “Bodies eventually pop up from a river. What took this one so long?”

“Michelson said that the body was snagged in some tree roots close to the shore. It’s similar to what happened to Lily.”