If it was true, though—did that mean Evans was the Ivy Hill connection to the Mexican drug cartel pipeline?

Had he been involved in Stephanie’s disappearance?

Could he be linked to both?

Impossible to know without more concrete evidence.

Cate leaned a shoulder against the wall. “Are you sure she got it from Mr. Evans? Did she tell you that?”

“Not directly—but she visited him every week. He always talks to the new girls, and he takes a special interest in the ones who are having problems. Stephanie was mad at her parents for sending her here, and she hated everything about the place—the location in the sticks, the teachers, rooming with me. He was the only adult she spent any time with. She said he helped her relax. After their meetings, she’d go out to the woods—and she always reeked of weed when she came back. I did the math.”

“You think she was paying for it?”

“I don’t know.”

“Could he have been hitting on her—and the weed was her reward for cooperating?”

Twin crevices appeared on the girl’s brow. “I doubt it. She was tight with her boyfriend. As far as I know, all she and Mr. Evans did was talk. It was more like—” She cocked her ear. “Someone’s coming. Listen—if you go see him, don’t let him talk you into doing anything you don’t want to do. And stay away from drugs. They’re a dead-end street. I’ll see you later.”

After one more survey of the hall, she slipped through the door.

Cate gave her a thirty-second lead, then picked up her backpack. It appeared Zeke’s suggestion to ask Kayla to accompany them last night had opened the door to friendship—and was already paying dividends.

And if her roommate’s suspicions were correct, one of Ivy Hill’s guidance counselors was providing the wrong kind of advice.

Her to-do list was growing by leaps and bounds. Chat with Evans to see if she could lead their discussion in a revealing direction. Block out a few hours during the birthday festivities this weekend to dig deeper into his background. Scrutinize the security footage from the surveillance camera by the entrance to the property near the barn from the night Stephanie went missing.

It was possible none of those would produce a solid lead. But a breakthrough was imminent. She could feel it in her bones.

Someone at Ivy Hill was neck-deep in either Stephanie’s disappearance or a Mexican drug cartel pipeline.

Perhaps both.

The question was who?

Maybe he ought to talk to Reverend Wilson.

As Will watched the students spill out of the auditorium after the assembly and the interdenominational service the minister had conducted, he homed in on Cate Sheppard.

Her movements were stiff, as if she was hurting, and it was impossible to miss the dressing on the back of her head.

His stomach knotted.