The Sixes

It didn’t take long to find the correct card. There was a man with yellow wings on the upper left-hand side and a giant bird on the right—the black strokes were the ridges of the feathers—and between and just below them was a sphinx. Her eyes dropped to the words at the bottom of the card on the screen: “Wheel of Fortune.”

She lurched back in the chair, making it scrape along the floor. No, no, no, she thought. It’s not possible. It was the same as the tiny silver wheel on the bracelets years ago.

She looked down and stared at the card again on the table. At the very bottom of the card, she now saw the faded lower edge of the W.

Blood had surged to her head, and she could hardly think straight. It must be a coincidence, she thought, trying to fight off panic, just the Sixes sending a message of some kind. She searched quickly for the meaning of the card: “A turning point, a change in fortune and destiny. Sometimes good, but also sometimes bad, a prophesy of luck deserting you.”

But what if it wasn’t a coincidence? What if the Sixes knew about her past? But how could they have? It had all been kept under wraps. She remembered the reference in the fake blog site to the poetry journal. It seemed that someone was funneling secrets about her past to them. Would they use the information against her somehow—even with Blair and Gwen under arrest?

She grabbed her phone and called Glenda’s cell. When Glenda didn’t answer, Phoebe tried her office line and barely gave the receptionist a chance to speak before she asked for Glenda. The woman reported that Dr. Johns was off campus at the moment.

Next, Phoebe tried Duncan. Maybe she would stay there tonight after all. She had to stay calm, she realized, or this could push her to some edge she couldn’t see.

“Hey, it’s me,” she said into Duncan’s voice mail. “I’ve got a problem. Can you call me as soon as you can?”

A buzzer rang, making her jump. It was the doorbell, she realized. She rose from the chair and hurried to the living room. Peering out the window, she spotted a child standing on the porch, dressed in a yellow rain slicker with the hood up. Why would a kid be coming to her house? she wondered as she opened the door.

“May I help you?” she asked.

The child reached up and tugged off the water-streaked hood of the slicker. To her shock, Phoebe saw that it was actually Jen Imbibio. She felt an alarm go off inside her head. Was this some kind of setup? But the girl appeared genuinely distressed.

“I have to talk to you,” Jen said.

Phoebe ushered her inside and locked the door behind her.

“Okay, shoot,” Phoebe said quickly. She was still reeling from the tarot card, and she had to force herself to focus.

“I’m one of the Sixes,” Jen said.

“I see,” Phoebe said, not knowing what else to say. It was just as she’d suspected.

“I need your help. Blair and Gwen—they didn’t kill that old man. I know that for sure.”

27

“ARE YOU ALONE?” Phoebe asked.

The girl’s face wrinkled in confusion. “Of course,” she said. “Who would be with me?”

Phoebe motioned her into the living room and gestured toward an armchair. Jen took the seat, perching on the edge of the cushion. She looked vulnerable, but also a tiny bit impudent, like someone called into the principal’s office who didn’t feel deserving of punishment.

“So why do you think that—that they’re innocent?” Phoebe said.

“First of all, I just know that they would never do anything like that,” Jen said. “They’re just not the type. I saw Gwen in the cafe on Monday, and she seemed perfectly normal.”

“People who brutally kill people are often sociopaths,” Phoebe said bluntly. “They can look and sound like the rest of us, but they do awful things without feeling a trace of remorse.”

“Sociopaths?” Jen exclaimed. “Is that what you think they are?”

“You seem surprised I’d assume that, Jen. But aren’t the Sixes by their very nature about hurting other people? You pull pranks, you steal, you humiliate vulnerable boys, you come after the people who want out—like Alexis Grey.”

“No, we’re not about hurting people. We’re about female strength and helping each other gain every advantage we can. Sometimes we put certain people in their place, but only because they’re trying to block us—you know, hogging all the professor’s time, stuff like that. And besides, you can’t totally trust Alexis Grey. Blair said Alexis blamed us for posting that sex tape when a boy had actually done it.”

“How long have you been a member?”

“I was just tapped at the beginning of the term. I’m only a junior member.”

“And Blair was definitely in charge before she was arrested?”

“Yes, I guess.” Jen gnawed on her bottom lip.

“What do you mean you guess?”

“There’s this sort of council of seniors who run things, and Blair was the leader of that. But sometimes it seemed she consulted with other people. I don’t know who.”

Phoebe recalled that Alexis had also sensed that there was someone in the wings.

“You said first of all. What’s the other reason you think they didn’t murder Hutch?” Phoebe asked.

“The police found Blair’s scarf at the murder scene, but I know for a fact it had been stolen,” Jen said. “Someone is setting her up. People are jealous of Blair, and they want to bring her down.”

So the cops had discovered clothing at the scene.

“Wait, start from the beginning,” Phoebe said. “How do you know they found something?”

“I heard from this other girl who talked to Blair’s mother that the cops showed Blair this pink scarf and asked if it was hers, and told her they found it at the scene. I’m sure Blair tried to tell them that the scarf had been stolen, and they probably thought she was just making that up to protect herself. But I know it’s the truth. Because I was walking with her the other day, and she told me someone had taken it.”

“But don’t you see that she realized she’d dropped the scarf when she was at Hutch’s house, and tried to cover her ass by telling you that she’d lost it.”

Jen shook her head. “But she told me Sunday at lunch. That was way before the old guy was murdered. She’d just come from her house. I know she leaves some stuff downstairs in the entranceway, which isn’t locked. Some girls had been hanging out at the apartment downstairs, visiting the guys who live there, and Blair thought one of them had stolen it just to be mean.”

Now that’s the pot calling the kettle black, Phoebe thought snidely, but she knew that the scenario was possible. In her mind she saw the coats drooping from the row of pegs in the dingy entranceway of the Ash Street house. Was Blair really being framed? she wondered. But how would the killer know that she would be a viable suspect?

“By the way, does either Blair or Gwen own a car?” Phoebe asked.

“No—why?”

“Would they have had access to a car?”

Jen bit her lip again and shrugged her shoulders. “Yeah, I guess they could have borrowed one.”

“You need to tell the police about your conversation with Blair,” Phoebe said. “I can give you the name of the detective you should talk to.”

“I can’t,” Jen nearly wailed. “Don’t you see? They’ll know that I’m part of the Sixes