hospital for tests, and I have to talk to him about the mission murders. He’s our only living witness.”
Anthony didn’t have to read between the lines. “And your only suspect.”
“I believe you,” she said to the question he did not ask.
“It does not sound that way.”
“Dammit, Anthony, I know that not everything in this world can be explained with scientific logic. But I’m also the sheriff and I need to follow through on the investigation. Rafe’s disappearing act isn’t going to help his cause.”
“I will look for him,” Anthony told Skye.
“I still need to talk to him,” Skye said warily.
“Of course.”
“Be careful.”
“You as well,
“I’m going over to the high school to talk to Abby’s fellow students. I’m hoping that one of them will feel so damn guilty that she’s dead that they’ll spill the beans as to what really happened on the cliffs last night.”
“We know what happened,” Anthony said.
“We
FOURTEEN
Even before the Santa Louisa sheriff spoke to the general assembly at the beginning of their lunch break, there wasn’t a person at Santa Louisa High School who didn’t know that Abby Weatherby had died at the ruins on the cliffs. Everyone had a theory. Some rumors were true-that Abby was naked, for example. Others were false-like one that she’d killed herself. But as Chris Kidd sat in the last row of chairs in the auditorium and rubbed his sore neck, he knew some of what had really happened.
His girlfriend, Ari Blair, had told him.
He had mixed feelings about what she’d said, and he couldn’t help but think that Ari didn’t
The principal walked onstage and called for everyone to quiet down. Still concerned about his girlfriend, Chris listened to Mr. Lawrence, hoping the Sheriff’s Department had answers that didn’t involve Ari.
“I’m sure all of you know that Abigail Weatherby died last night on the cliffs near Cypress Point. There is a lot of misinformation going around, and Sheriff McPherson wanted to speak to the student body to put the rumors to rest.
“There will be counselors on site during lunch, after school, and all day tomorrow if anyone here would like to speak with someone about this tragedy. Abby will be missed by many.”
The blond sheriff walked briskly onstage, thanked the principal, and stood at the podium. Chris had forgotten the sheriff was a girl. She looked too young and too hot to be a cop.
“Thank you,” she said, breathless and distracted. “I’m Sheriff Skye McPherson. I graduated from Santa Louisa High thirteen years ago, so I know you’re thinking what the heck is going on? So I’m going to tell you what I know, and ask for your help.
“The circumstances of Abby Weatherby’s death are unclear. The Santa Louisa Medical Examiner and my office are right now processing evidence that will hopefully lead to the truth. The community deserves it, Abby’s parents deserve it.” She looked out into the audience, her expression stern.
“Abby’s body was found last night on the cliffs outside of town. There was evidence at the scene that more than one person was on the cliffs at some point prior to, or up until, her death. We know that the cliffs are a popular gathering place for young people. How do we know this? Because most of the deputies in my office grew up here, too, and I’ve been told it’s a well-known make-out spot.”
There were some giggles and nervous laughter, but the sheriff didn’t crack a smile.
“At this point, we cannot definitely say whether Abby’s death was an accident or homicide.” She let that sink in, and there were additional murmurings.
McPherson continued, “Perhaps Abby died accidentally-such as by a drug overdose or falling-or through a natural cause like an aneurysm. I can imagine how difficult it would be to witness an accidental death and not know what to do. Sometimes we might make a decision that is wrong, and then we don’t know how to make it right afterward.”
She looked out over the audience carefully, from one side to the other.
Any nervousness was gone, her voice forceful and commanding. “I want to know what happened to Abby Weatherby last night. I want to know the truth. And I
Again, she paused, but cut off the murmurs with a firm announcement: “Every teacher has a set of my business cards. They will be left all over the school. Call me day or night and I will meet with you, I’ll talk to you, I’ll keep it confidential as much as I can. If you’re a witness to something other than an accident, I can and will protect you.
“I need the truth. It’s what Abby and her family deserve.”
The sheriff walked offstage and Chris looked around for Ari. She was on the far side of the gym.
He and Ari had been exclusively dating for nearly two years. He didn’t know if he loved her, but he couldn’t stand the thought of any other guy dating her. And they all wanted to. She was gorgeous. Blond hair, blue eyes, big tits, and hot in her cheerleading uniform. He loved watching her when he was on the bench, or getting that short little skirt off her in the bed of his truck.
Other guys wanted to do the same. Like his best bud, Travis. Was that Travis talking to her now? Chris started over to the corner, but the crush of students delayed him. By the time he got over there, she was gone.
His head pounded and he squeezed his eyes shut. The image of Travis screwing Ari hit him, and he had a hard time getting rid of it. Travis wouldn’t do that to him. Ari wouldn’t. What was he thinking?
Chris left the auditorium, the damp fog and steady drizzle feeling surprisingly good on his hot skin. He felt ill; he knew better than to work out and not eat. But when he’d heard the news about Abby, he couldn’t think about food. Now he was paying for it.
He looked around. A few other students were talking outside, but most were in the cafeteria, where it was warm and dry.
Where was Ari?
Chris walked slowly around campus looking for her. When he walked out into the parking lot, he saw the sheriff getting into a cruiser. He hesitated, not wanting to get Ari in trouble, but she’d been shaking this morning. She couldn’t fake being that scared.
He walked over to Sheriff McPherson. “Sheriff? Do you have a minute?”
The cop nodded. “Why don’t you get in and stay dry?” She motioned to the passenger side.
Chris did, and began. “I’m worried about my girlfriend.”
Skye McPherson took notes as Chris told her everything Ari had said.
Anthony locked his books and papers in his small office-one of the two rooms still standing at the mission-and drove as fast as he dared in the thickening drizzle. It was as if the air had expanded; every breath he took was cold and wet, filling him. The twenty-minute drive down the winding mountain road became thirty minutes, as the slick