The Complete Private Collection: Private; Invitation Only; Untouchable; Confessions; Inner Circle; Legacy; Ambition; Revelation; Last Christmas; Paradise ... The Book of Spells; Ominous; Vengeance (49 page)

Noelle, Ariana, and Kiran all exchanged a look. Like they knew something we didn’t—which they usually did. Then they turned their attention back to their food. I sat back in my chair, recalling something Constance had said about Taylor a few weeks back when Thomas had first gone missing. The police had been routinely interviewing all the students, and Constance had told me that that Taylor had come out of her meeting in tears. It had seemed odd, so Constance had speculated that maybe Taylor had a crush on Thomas.

The thought, at the time, had made me laugh, because I had chalked the whole Taylor-in-tears thing up to a rumor. But now I wasn’t so sure. Considering the way Taylor had been acting since the funeral, it certainly seemed possible that Thomas had meant more to her than I had thought.

On Halloween night, the Billings Girls had assured me there would no longer be any secrets between us. Apparently, they were already taking liberties with that promise.

Early the following week, I was sat across from Noelle in the library, pretending to read
The Grapes of Wrath.
I had read it back in eighth grade during my English teacher’s spring reading challenge (which I had won by a landslide), so I technically didn’t need to be reading it again. I really should have been studying for my French exam or doing my biology lab, but since I was unable to concentrate on anything for more than five seconds at a time, I figured I’d go with something I had already read. Under the table, my leg jumped up and down as if it were trying to free itself from my torso.

If I didn’t flunk out of this place before Christmas, it would be a miracle.

The library was deathly silent aside from the occasional sound of a book spine cracking or a pencil scratching against paper. Back home, our library was full of giggles and whispers and table-hockey games. It was a place for kids to waste their study hall periods gossiping and being generally stupid. At Easton the
library was a place to work. When I’d first arrived, this phenomenon had inflated me with a kind of intellectual pride. I was at an actual institution of serious learning. I was a scholar. Today, the silence threatened to kill me. It made it far too easy for my brain to wander to other things.

“I’m going to grab a bottle of water,” Noelle said, pulling out her Gucci wallet. “You want anything?”

They didn’t have fountains here at Easton. Just Evian vending machines.

“No, thanks,” I said.

It still threw me a bit that she was going to get her own stuff now instead of ordering me to go. That she was actually asking what
she
could do for
me
. I should have taken advantage of it—and would have—if stuff like that had even been a remote priority anymore. It didn’t seem like it ever would be again.

Noelle turned and sauntered off toward the bathroom alcove, where the machines hummed away. As soon as she was gone, I heard feet pounding on the carpeted floor and looked up. Everyone, in fact, looked up. Lorna Gross came bumbling into view and raced right over to a tableful of sophomores off to my left. Her frizzy hair was triangular, and a few strands stuck to the sheen of sweat on her face. She whispered something breathlessly, spitting all over her friends’ books.

Suddenly, everyone was looking at me. Constance, Missy, Diana Waters. Kiki Rosen popped the earbuds out of her ears and turned off her iPod. I felt as if a huge tidal wave were hovering
behind me and everyone was just watching it, waiting for it to plunge down on me and sweep me away.

“What?” I said loudly.

Constance looked at the others, then braced her hand on the back of her chair as she reluctantly got up. She walked over and sat down next to me, leaning in so that no one might overhear. I gripped my book in both hands until the pads of my fingertips hurt.

“Reed, they arrested someone,” Constance said calmly, soothingly. “Some guy from town named Rick DeLea or something?”

My throat constricted. My heart constricted. My lower stomach tightened into a knot. Suddenly, Constance felt very far away. Everything and everyone seemed to shrink into the background, and all there was in the world was this:

Thomas had been murdered. Thomas had been
murdered
.

So Noelle had been right. So that townie dealer scum that she and Josh had known about, but whom I had never heard of, had killed him.

So . . . so . . . so . . .

“They’re saying he was Thomas’s middleman or something?” Constance said, her brow coming together and rearranging her freckles.

I nodded mutely. There was no way I could speak.

Missy Thurber got up and strode over to us, Lorna at her side. “Well, well. Guess you won’t be milking the tragic heroine thing much longer.”

“Shut up, Missy,” Constance said, then looked shocked at herself.

“What? I’m just saying. Thomas Pearson wasn’t the innocent victim of some twisted anti-prep-school crime. He was just murdered in the middle of a drug deal gone awry. Like some common criminal.” Missy leaned into the table and looked me in the eye. “I think that knocks you down a few pegs.”

I hardly heard a thing she said. All I could hear, all I could see, was one word:
murdered.
The word I had been avoiding for days.
Murdered.

Thomas Pearson was murdered.

Hot. No air. I needed air. I squirmed, pulling the turtleneck on my sweater away from my prickling skin.

“They said they found drug paraphernalia and a wad of cash near the body,” Missy continued. “Guess somebody had an issue with their
dealer.
”

Someone moved in behind me. Lorna took an uncertain step backward. Missy’s face lost all its mirth. She stood up straight.

Noelle placed her water and wallet on the table in front of me, leaned forward past my shoulder, and squinted at Missy. She tilted her head deliberately to one side, then the other, as if trying to see something better. No one moved. No one dared say a word.

“Huh,” Noelle said.

“What?” Missy blurted tremulously.

Noelle frowned and rounded her shoulders. “I always wondered if you could actually see through those cavernous nostrils to China,
but everything’s pretty much obscured by the forest of nasal hair.”

Someone snorted. Missy’s hand flew up to cover her nose.

“It’s Missy Thurber, right?” Noelle said. “Your mother and sister were in Billings?”

Missy was a marble-white statue of her former self.

“Well, thanks, Missy. You just inspired me to abolish that archaic little Billings rule about automatic admission for legacies,” Noelle said. “Have fun in Dayton House next year. I hear they’ve just about cleaned up that nasty rat problem.”

Missy’s mouth hung open so wide I could have stuffed my fist into it. She let out a strangled noise as she turned on her heel and ran away, fingers still covering her nose. Lorna scurried after her, seeing her own shot at Billings-by-association go up in smoke. It would have been a perfect moment, if those images of Thomas lying dead and bloody with bags of pills and powder all around him would have just stopped assaulting me.

The imagination is a horrible thing.

“Are you okay?” Noelle asked me, stepping into my line of vision.

“I don’t know,” I said.

“Maybe you should go lie down or something,” Constance suggested.

“Good idea,” Noelle put in.

Constance turned pink with pleasure.

“Come on,” Noelle said as she quickly packed up my stuff and hers. “Let’s get you back to Billings.”

Constance and I stood up, and Noelle stayed close to my side as we headed for the front door. Somehow, I managed to put one foot in front of the other, but I was glad there were no obstacles in front of me. I was so stunned I would have walked into a rhino if it had stepped into my path.

“It’s going to be okay, Reed,” Noelle told me. She seemed energized. Vehement. “It is. At least they caught the guy, right? It’s finally over. That bastard is going down.”

She pushed open the door and a gust of cold air hit me square in the face. I gasped for breath and looked up at the stars that blanketed the November sky.

At least they caught the guy. That bastard is going down.

Maybe someday those words would mean what Noelle wanted them to mean, but for now they only meant one thing. Thomas didn’t have to die. Someone had decided to kill him.

And suddenly, the anger was back.

I stared out the front window of Billings the next morning, waiting for Ariana and Taylor to finish getting ready. Tiny droplets of rain dotted the glistening windowpane and the sky was overcast, a perfect backdrop for my heavy mood. I took a deep breath and released it slowly through my lips, marveling at how the campus beyond still managed to look beautiful to me even at this time of year, even in this state of mind. It was already mid-November, but the grass was still green and clipped and the evergreen shrubs perfectly shaped. Overnight, beads of water had frozen along the leafless limbs of the trees at the end of the walk, forming a canopy of diamonds. Back home there would be nothing but brown and gray. Dead grass, dead plants, piles of soaked and rotting leaves the public service had neglected to pick up. November was one of Croton’s ugliest months of the year. Nothing was ever ugly at Easton. Even in the wake of murder.

There was a bustling on the stairs, and I turned to find Ariana and Taylor coming toward me, Ariana pulling on her pristine
white calfskin gloves. “Ready?” she asked, looking positively bright-eyed.

“Ready.”

The moment we walked outside I was nearly knocked over by a gust of wind and a smattering of drizzle. Ariana and Taylor stepped out of Billings behind me and instinctively huddled close.

“I need coffee,” I mumbled, buttoning the top button on my new Lands’ End wool coat, which my father had ordered and had shipped directly to me. It was much more practical and boxy than any of the designer coats the other Billings Girls had hanging in their closets, but at least it was warm.

“I need oatmeal,” Taylor added.

She was looking a bit more like herself today. Her blond curls danced around her face, and she had gotten some color back in her skin. Although that might have just been the wind.

“So, you’re going to eat today?” Ariana asked, tucking her arm through mine as we speed-walked across campus, our shoes clip-clopping on the wet stone path. “Both of you?”

“I’ll give it a try,” I said.

The truth was, my appetite had yet to return. The only reason I was in such a rush to get to the cafeteria was to see if there was any more news, if anyone had heard anything about this Rick character. If worse came to worst, I might even seek out Walt Whittaker for a tête-à-tête, as awkward as that would be. Whit’s and my dating experiment had only imploded a little over a week ago, the very night Thomas was found, but Whit also had a blood connection to
the powers that be at Easton. His grandmother was on the board of directors, which meant that I might just have to suck it up and talk to him.

We were about to turn up the short path to the cafeteria when I saw someone out of the corner of my eye. I paused and my pulse started to race, warming my skin. Detective Hauer. Out for his morning stroll, even in this weather. If there was one person who could tell me more than even Whit could, it was Hauer.

I stopped and waited for him to join us.

“Good morning, ladies,” he said with a kind smile, though his brown eyes looked sad and tired. His black trench coat was stretched over his stocky frame, the belt barely tying at the waist. “Brisk one.”

“Yes, Detective. It certainly is,” Ariana said, her southern manners kicking in.

“How are you today, Reed?” he asked me.

I don’t know why I grew warm at his singling me out. We had met on the quad before, just like this, except I had been alone at the time. Plus he had interviewed me with the chief just yesterday. We were practically old friends.

“Is it true, Detective?” I asked. I felt a rush of nauseating excitement and dread at being able to pose the question. Finally. “Did they really arrest that guy? Did he do it?”

He lifted his head slightly and studied me for a moment before answering. “We do have a suspect in custody, yes. But as to whether or not he had anything to do with your friend’s death, we’re not sure yet. He’s still being questioned.”

“But if you brought him in, you must have had a good reason,” Ariana said.

“There was compelling evidence, yes,” the detective said.

“What does that mean?” I asked.

“Just that he’s a suspect, that’s all,” the detective told me gently. “I know how close you were with Thomas, Reed. I didn’t have a chance to tell you yesterday, but I wanted you to know how sorry I am for your loss.”

Ariana’s grip on my arm tightened. Like that last moment in the blood pressure sleeve when you think the doctor might be taking the thing a pump or ten too far just to see if you’ll pop. The twisting in the back of my throat returned. I tried to swallow but couldn’t, and my eyes instantly watered.

“I promise I’ll let you know as soon as we know anything for sure,” he told me.

I nodded. I wanted to thank him, but I knew I had to wait for this latest wave of misery to pass.

“Thank you, Detective,” Ariana said, easing her death grip slightly. “Come on, girls. Let’s get inside before we freeze.”

She really was becoming more like a mother every day. And I couldn’t have been more grateful for it. If it hadn’t been for her tugging on my arm, I might have stood there in the cold all day.

“Ladies,” the detective said, stepping back.

“Bye,” I heard myself say.

Ariana led us over to the door and opened it for us, waiting for Taylor and me to go through first. The warmth of the heated
cafeteria enveloped me, and I breathed for the first time in what felt like hours.

“There. See?” Ariana said, facing me and Taylor. She slipped out of her light blue cashmere coat and folded it over her arm. “Don’t you feel better now? Don’t you
both
feel better?”

I looked at Taylor and she blew out a sigh, smiling slightly. It was the first smile I had seen on her since the Saturday night when we had all been in New York City, partying like the carefree idiots we’d been at the time.