She marched into the school’s main entrance like she owned the place, which was her favorite way to walk into an establishment where she had business. Inside she confronted one of her other favorite things—a receptionist, who acted like she hadn’t the first clue as to why Sam had come.

“Get your boss out here,” Sam said, flashing her badge. “Immediately.”

The heavyset older woman got up and walked into another office, closing the door behind her.

“I do so enjoy watching you work, Lieutenant.”

“I hate stupid people who pretend they don’t know what’s going on when Brooke’s big escape is all they’ve talked about since I called this morning.”

“You do make a good point.”

The woman returned with a tall, skinny, balding guy. Wearing a gray three-piece suit and gold wire-framed glasses, Gideon Young walked like he had a stick up his ass. The walk told her a lot about what she could expect from him. She flashed her badge, and Hill did the same.

“Lieutenant Holland, MPD.”

“Special Agent-in-Charge Hill, FBI.”

At the mention of the FBI, Young seemed to deflate a bit. “What does the FBI have to do with this?”

“We have nine murdered teenagers in the city and a tenth in ICU,” Hill replied. “That’s what the FBI has to do with this.”

His complexion visibly drained of all color. “Murdered? Who was murdered?”

“That’s none of your concern,” Sam said. “We’d like to know how Brooke Hogan was able to check herself out of here with bogus documents. We’d like to know why a minor was allowed to leave here without her parents being contacted before she was released into the custody of a sister she doesn’t have.”

Hill’s hand on her arm was the only indication Sam had that she was on the verge of losing her shit with Young. She took a deep breath and shook off Hill. “I would like some answers, Mr. Young, and I’d like them now.”

The older woman who’d been watching their exchange with big eyes suddenly broke down in tears. “It’s all my fault. She said she was Brooke’s sister and provided a notarized note from Brooke’s mother that said she was authorized to pick up her sister. I should’ve called her parents. It’s my fault. If you need to arrest anyone, arrest me.”

Oh, for fuck’s sake, Sam thought.

“There, there, Linda,” Young said, patting the other woman’s arm. “No one blames you.”

“Um, I do,” Sam said. “My sister does, and her husband does. We all blame you for letting a seventeen-year-old con artist scam you so easily.”

As Linda wailed with distress, Young glowered at Sam. “Is that really necessary?”