“Babysit” was the wrong word. She’d been thinking of correcting herself when the text from Camryn came back: Oh, I wish I could but I’ve got company.
Jamie had thought about checking with Theo; maybe after Emma and her shift, Theo might come over and take care of Emma for a few hours more, but then Cooper had called everything off.
She was pouring herself a cup of coffee when Emma and Duchess came downstairs and headed outside together. “You’re up early,” Jamie observed.
“Duchess needs out,” she said.
A few minutes later, Emma and the dog stepped back inside. Emma was shivering when she entered the kitchen. “Cold out there,” she said, and then, looking Jamie up and down, added, “Where are you going?”
Jamie hadn’t said anything about her plans and her clothes were her usual jeans and a sweater, so she said, “I’m not going anywhere.”
“Why are you so happy?” Emma asked, carefully preparing Duchess’s bowl of dry dog food. Each bit of kibble had to be carefully added to create an even amount. Duchess dove past her as soon as the bowl was on the ground and kernels went flying.
“I don’t know that I’m happy . . .” She’d purposely kept the range of bad things that had happened in the past week from Emma, though she wasn’t certain how long that could continue.
“Is it because of Cooper?”
Jamie was saved from answering when her phone beeped for an incoming text. She glanced at the screen and saw it was from Vicky: We’re all going to see Bette at the hospital this morning at about ten.
Jamie could well imagine how Bette’s doctors might feel about a posse of women descending on her. Getting in to see her was likely a pipe dream, and she really felt she should stay away until she learned more about Bette’s condition.
However, Vicky had given her a golden opportunity to have a talk with her.
She texted back: Good. Any chance we could meet for coffee first?
Vicky wrote back a few moments later: How about nineish at the Coffee Club, off Aspen Court? I’ll let everyone know.
“Perfect,” Jamie said aloud, texting back.
Emma slid her a look. “Be careful,” she warned.
“I’m just meeting Vicky for coffee.”
She wagged her head slowly back and forth while she dipped into her cereal with her spoon. She was still wagging it as Jamie left the room and headed upstairs. A frisson slid down her back, a cold finger of fear. Sometimes Emma’s ESP-like sentience was downright spooky.
* * *
Harley rolled out of bed early and took a shower and washed her hair. She felt grody and miserable. A hell of a week. Hearing from Greer just before the team took off for the away game had surprised her. He’d never called her cell before. But his message had been serious stuff, and a part of her wondered if she was being played: Give the new girl enough information to hang herself and see if she tells her mom.
Well, she had told Mom. If this was a setup of some kind, so be it.
He called you!
Even all her second-guessing of his motives couldn’t totally blunt the fact that Greer had called her.
You. You. Harley Woodward. Greer Douglas called you!
What he’d said about Tyler was sobering, though. Okay, he hadn’t said it, he’d just hinted. Strongly. Tyler was screwing around with Katie . . . Katie . . . whom Marissa had known since grade school. Katie’s mom was running for a position on the school board, which decided all kinds of shit about the schools, and Marissa considered her a good friend, and both of those things were going to cause big trouble.
But Greer called you!
She drove the hairbrush through her hair in deep sweeps through the tangled strands. He’d wanted to know if she was coming to the football game. Without Marissa, Harley hadn’t really had a way to go. She didn’t know anybody well enough to ask for a ride. She had, for a really crazy moment, thought about calling Lena or Katie, but had chickened out, thank God. If Katie was really stealing, with or without Tyler—could he really be with her?—then Harley was lucky she’d stayed away.
Harley thought about her bathroom meeting with Dara. Did Dara know? She must suspect. Otherwise why would she say she was with Tyler last Saturday? Greer had said . . . practically said . . . that Tyler was with Katie and they’d broken into that house and stolen liquor and jewelry. Good God.
She quivered inside from head to toe, knowing she’d ratted them out to her mother. She regretted that. Had regretted it all night long. If Mom told . . . if the other kids found out, she’d be thrown out of the group. A pariah.
She already knew how that felt: terrible.
* * *
Cooper was in the station early, as were Howie and Elena Verbena. Elena’s bouncy, dark curls were tied back and she looked fresh and ready to work. Howie, on the other hand, was wrinkled and yawning. Cooper, too, had spent a long night even after he’d gotten home, rethinking what had happened and writing up notes.
“I hope I look better than you,” Cooper told him.
“I slept on the couch,” Howie said. “Gonna take a shower here.”
“You do look better, Coop,” Verbena said. Then, to Howie, “What happened to you?”
“Wife’s sister and husband are aboard the divorce train, so the sister and her kids moved in last night. I lost out on a bed.” He glanced over at Cooper. “We’re the interim hotel.”
“A lot of that going around,” Cooper said.
Howie picked up the small overnight bag he’d brought with him and headed down the hall to the break room and the men’s bathroom/locker room.
“Bring me up-to-date,” Verbena said. She’d been almost pissed that they’d left her out of last night’s events.
Cooper gave her the full run-down and a copy of his notes. She’d heard some of it, and Bennihof had called her this morning
