And what did all that mean? Pollen going on about how there was no cover-up, how she would know, she would be the one to cover something up…

The woman looked scared. That much McGowan saw with her own eyes.

When she reaches the push doors, she doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t care if someone’s standing on the other side, feels no need to announce herself. She kicks the doors open and comes face-to-face with the store’s longtime manager, Abigail Rain.

“What’s going on?” Rain says. Real shock in her eyes. She shoulda seen the sugar factory.

“The breakroom,” McGowan says.

Rain, who always looks shocked, whether or not the girls’ basketball team is getting picked off one at a time, looks over her shoulder as if whoever is currently in that room must be the person McGowan is sweating to speak with.

“Did something happen in there?” she asks.

But McGowan saw where she looked and she’s already past her, already at the breakroom door.

Rain follows.

“Who’s been writing ‘Daphne Lives’ on the walls?” McGowan asks her.

Two young men sit at the table, eyeing her with real fear.

“Excuse me?” Rain asks.

“I’m not gonna ask twice.”

“How do you even know about that? Is that who you think is responsible for—”

“I know it is. Who’s been writing it?”

“I…I don’t know.”

McGowan shoots her a look of fire and glaciers both.

“Honest, Detective. I do not know. I’ve tried to—”

“You have cameras.”

“Not in the breakroom. That’s against code.”

Something flickers in McGowan’s eyes. A memory of codes. Of conduct.

“But I’ve seen it by the microwave,” Rain says. “All over the place. I make ’em scrub it off. There’s one behind the fridge now.”

McGowan goes straight for the refrigerator. She puts her shoulder into it and doesn’t ask for help. Still, the two stock boys do.

“You gotta tell me what’s going on,” Rain says.

They slide the fridge a few feet.

On the wall, in black marker:

Daphne Lives

“No idea who wrote this?” McGowan asks. She faces the stock boys.

“No idea,” one says. The other is too scared to speak.

Abigail steps closer.

“Look,” she says. “If you find out, let me know.”

“A list of everyone who works here,” McGowan says. “Now.”

Abigail points to the time cards racked above the time clock.

“You’ll find the names of every employee there.”

McGowan moves quickly. She scans the names, up and down.

“This would be very bad,” Rain says. “Oh my God, this would be bad.” Then, to the stock boys, “You two. Get.” Then, when they don’t move, louder. “Go on! Get!”

They do. McGowan turns to face Rain. The look in her eyes different now.

She holds up a time card.

“This one,” she says. “Who is this?”

It reads:

CW

“Are you serious?” Rain says. “Of all my employees…that’s Coach Wanda, Detective.”

“Wanda works here?”

“You don’t make a million dollars coaching girls’ high school basketball. But there’s no way…”