sure was neat.'
'Yeah,' Lena agreed, handing Brad the notebook. She waited while he thumbed through it, looking for something she might have missed.
'She wrote real neat,' Brad said in a sad voice.
'What'd you think of her on the retreat?'
Brad pushed his hair out of his eyes. 'She was quiet. I hate to say that I barely noticed her, but the girls pretty much kept to themselves. Mrs. Gray was supposed to be there to help out with them, but she got sick at the last minute. I didn't want to disappoint everybody, and the deposits were nonrefundable…' He shook his head. 'The boys were a handful. I had to spend most of my time looking after them.'
'What about Jenny and Lacey?'
'Well…' Brad's forehead wrinkled as he thought. 'They didn't do much, is the thing. The other kids skied and had fun. Jenny and Lacey kind of kept to themselves. They had their own room and I only really saw them around supper time.'
'How'd they act?'
'Kind of like they had their own language. They'd look at me and giggle, you know, like girls do.' He shifted uncomfortably, and Lena could see exactly why the girls had giggled. Brad probably knew as much about teenage girls as a goat did.
'They didn't act strange?'
'Stranger than giggling for no reason?'
'Brad…' Lena said. She stopped herself before she told him why the girls were laughing at him. Telling him they probably thought he was a dork would only make him pout, and Lena did not want to deal with that for the rest of the day.
He stared at her openly, waiting for her to finish.
'Just…' Lena began, then stopped again. 'Did it seem like Jenny was sick?'
'That's what the chief asked,' Brad said, and it seemed like he felt this was a compliment to Lena. 'He asked a lot of questions about Jenny and how she looked, who she was hanging around with.'
Lena closed the locker and indicated that they should continue walking. 'So?'
'She didn't look sick to me,' he said. 'I mean, like I told you, they kept to themselves. They didn't seem to like the other kids. Honestly, I don't know why they went. They're not exactly part of that group.'
'Meaning what?'
He shrugged. 'Popular, I guess. I mean, Lacey could've been. She's real cute, like a cheerleader.' He shook his head, as if he was still trying to figure it out. 'Jenny definitely wasn't popular. I didn't catch anyone being mean to her-I would'a done something about that-but they didn't go out of their way to be nice to her, either.'
'Weren't you supposed to be chaperoning them?'
He took this as it was meant, and immediately became defensive. 'I watched them as best I could, but it was just me there, and the boys were getting into a lot more trouble than the girls.'
Lena bit her tongue, wondering how someone as dense as Brad had gotten on the force.
'Here we go,' Brad said, stopping in front of the library. He held the door open for Lena, something Brad's mama had taught him to do from an early age. Working with Frank, then Jeffrey, Lena was so used to men opening doors for her that she barely noticed it anymore.
The library was cool, yet friendly. Student projects were tacked up on the walls, and row after row of bookshelves were packed almost to overflowing. About twenty computer stations- another education initiative funded by Georgia 's lottery-sat empty, their monitors dark because the school's electrical system was not equipped to handle the extra load. There was a second-level balcony with an open railing lining the back wall, and for just a moment Lena imagined that some kid had probably sat up in that second level, thinking about how easy it would be to open fire on his classmates.
Brad was staring at her, an expectant look on his face. 'That's them,' he said, indicating three girls and three boys sitting by the librarian's desk. Lena knew instantly what Brad had been talking about. These were the popular kids. There was something about the way they sat there, talking and laughing with each other. They were an attractive bunch, dressed in the latest fashions and with that casual air of entitlement that kids have who are worshipped by their peers.
'Let's get this over with,' Lena told him, walking purposefully toward the table. She stood there for several seconds, but none of the kids acknowledged she was there. Lena gave Brad a wary look, then cleared her throat. When that didn't work, she rapped her knuckles on the table. The group started to quiet down, but two of the girls finished their conversation before looking up.
Lena said, 'I'm detective Adams, this is Officer Stephens.'
Two of the girls giggled as if they knew the best secret in the world. Lena was reminded of one of the many reasons she did not like kids, especially girls this age. There was nothing more vicious than a teenage girl. Maybe it was because boys were more capable of settling an argument with their fists, but girls at this age were much more conniving and torturous than anyone wanted to believe.
One of the giggling girls smacked her gum while the other said, 'We know
Lena tried not to be hostile as Brad introduced the kids. 'Heather, Brittany, and Shanna,' he said, pointing them out. Then, indicating the boys, who were slouching so far into their chairs their butts were nearly touching the ground, ' Carson, Rory, and Cooper.' Lena wondered when parents had stopped giving their kids normal names. Probably around the time they stopped teaching them manners.
'Okay,' Lena began, sitting opposite them. 'Let's wrap this up quickly so y'all can go back to class.'
'Why are we here?' Brittany demanded, her tone as hostile as her posture.
'You were on the ski retreat with Officer Stephens,' Lena told them. 'Jenny Weaver was there. You know what happened to her Saturday?'
'Yeah,' Shanna said, smacking her gum.' Y' all shot her.'
Lena took a deep breath and let it go. As shitty as she had been at this age, Lena would never have talked to a cop like this. She said, 'We're just asking some routine questions about her, trying to figure out why she did what she did.'
One of the boys spoke. Lena couldn't remember his name, but it was hardly relevant as they all looked alike. 'Does my father know you're talking to me?'
'What's your name?' Lena asked.
' Carson.'
' Carson,' she repeated, returning the belligerent stare he gave her. His eyes were bloodshot, the pupils dilated.
'What?' he said, finally breaking the stare. He crossed his arms, looking around the room as if he was bored.
'One of your classmates is dead,' Lena reminded him. 'Are you not interested in helping us find out why?'
'The 'why' is because you shot her,' Carson answered, picking up his backpack. 'Can I go now?'
'Sure,' Lena told him. 'Why don't we get Dr. Clay to take a look in your bookbag?'
Carson smirked. 'You don't have probable cause.'
