People bringing in food that they could only pick at.
Mom’s constant sobbing.
Dad, white-faced, lips tight. His expression grief-stricken, trying to offer comfort to Mom and me.
The exhaustion of the flight home and the time change made it possible for me to fall asleep for an hour or so.
And then the kaleidoscope began.
At seven o’clock Aline sat up, threw aside the covers and dragged herself out of bed. The day, cloudy and promising rain, was in keeping with the way she felt.
She had tied back her long brown hair with a scrunchie, but it had slipped off during the night. She went over to the mirror on the dresser opposite the bed. It was as though Kerry was standing beside her, staring into it. Kerry looked like Mom with her golden blonde hair. Sparkling blue eyes. Perfect features.
Aline was her father’s child, with hazel eyes, a thin face and deep brown hair. “Mud-colored,” she told herself.
Her eyes were filled with grief, and she could see that she was very pale. Her pajamas were hanging loosely on her. She knew that Kerry would have taken one glance at her and said, “Look what the cat dragged in!” An involuntary smile came to her lips and disappeared.
She tiptoed down to the kitchen and made a pot of coffee. Ted Goldberg, a doctor and friend of her parents’ from the golf club, had come over late yesterday afternoon and given her parents sleep aids. Aline hoped that the pills they had taken before going to bed last night had worked and were giving them a measure of peace.
She had taken on the task yesterday afternoon of phoning family members and close friends about the tragedy. Some were already aware after seeing news reports. It had been a comfort to read the stream of tributes that came pouring onto her sister’s Facebook page. In the evening their next-door neighbor had brought in dinner. No one had been hungry, but they had all nibbled and felt better for it.
Her father had turned on the television at six-thirty. A picture of their house was on the screen. The lead story was about Kerry’s murder. He had rushed to click it off.
Ordinarily Aline would have turned on the morning news the moment she entered the kitchen. But she didn’t want to watch stories about Kerry. Not yet. Not ever.
She had left her cell phone in the dining room after making the calls. Coffee cup in hand, she went over to get it. She saw there was a voice message from a number she did not recognize. It had been left only an hour ago. It was from Mike Wilson, the detective who was handling Kerry’s case. His image flashed into her mind. Handsome, a little over six feet tall, intense dark brown eyes, a slender athletic frame. A way of leaning forward, hands clasped as though to avoid missing any word that was said.
She tapped on the message. Ms. Dowling, I know how rough everything is for you at this point, but I need your help. I hope I’m not calling too early. I understand that you are a guidance counselor at Saddle River High School. I think you could be a great help to me. Please call me as soon as you get this message.
Without trying to analyze the reason she could be of help to him, Aline returned the call. When he heard her voice, Mike Wilson went straight to the point. “Based on what I have learned so far, there were about thirty individuals at the party, and I have most of the names. I believe most of them were Kerry’s year, which means they will be leaving imminently for college. I want to find out which colleges they are going to and when they will be leaving. For obvious reasons, I want to talk first to those leaving earliest. Can you help me with this?”
“I’m glad you called. I had totally forgotten I’m supposed to be at the high school at one o’clock today for an orientation meeting. I may be able to help you. Today’s training would include instruction on how to use the computer system.”
“Are you planning to go?”
“Frankly, I could use a little distraction. You asked about when colleges start. Here’s a quick rule of thumb. Southern schools in mid-August. They’re back already. Catholic schools around Labor Day. The Ivies in mid-September. Most of the others around now, the last week in August.”
“I really appreciate this. I’m sorry to ask you to go in only a day after—”
She cut him off. “I’m glad to have something helpful to do. Text me the names and I’ll get you the schools.”
“That would be great, Ms. Dowling.”
“Please call me Aline.”
“Okay, Aline. And one last request, would you also have the dates of birth in your records? I have to know which ones are adults and which are minors.”
“I can get those too. You’ll have them by late afternoon.”
• • •
Aline felt strange as she maneuvered her car into a space reserved for FACULTY at the high school. The parking lot was nearly empty.
She knocked on the half-open door to the principal’s office. Pat Tarleton quickly rose from her desk, walked over and embraced her. “I’m so sorry, honey. How are you and your parents doing?”
“We’re all in shock trying to absorb what happened. I thought it would be good to force my mind to focus on something else, so I wanted to keep our appointment.”
Pat guided Aline over to a chair next to hers where they could both see the large screen on her desktop computer. She handed her a piece of paper with some scribbling on it. “This is your password to access our computer system. Let me show you how it works.”
Aline quickly absorbed Pat’s instructions. Fortunately, the system was very similar to the one she had used at the International School. When they were finished, Pat handed her a list she had printed out. “These are
