Amy meant to find an apology but came up empty of remorse, of anything but disgust. “Lisbeth, I don’t want you driving home this late by yourself. Your parents have left. So unless you can catch them outside right now, the guest room is your only option.”

Lisbeth looked to Jack, who by now seemed to also be weary of the tears; his expression of sympathy had decreased in voltage.

Jack draped his arm around Lisbeth’s shoulder. “Come on . . . it’ll be fine to stay here.”

“Why can’t you come home with me and stay at my house?” Amy stepped closer to Lisbeth. “I guess you did not hear me say I don’t want you two driving that far this late.”

“I heard you, ma’am.”

“Good.”

Carol Anne lifted Lisbeth’s hand, patted it. “Honey, you’ll be just fine here with sweet Jack. Now you two run along.”

Jack looked at his mother. “You okay?”

“Just great, hon. Just great. Go on and enjoy the rest of the party.”

She glanced away from Jack’s stare. He held Lisbeth’s hand and guided her to the back hall.

Amy reached for Carol Anne’s purse. “I want to see those papers.”

Carol Anne led her to the living room, then out the back door to the empty and blank night. Amy’s senses dulled as the cold air outside became more an observation than a sensation.

Carol Anne reached into her purse and pulled out the crumpled, torn papers. “What are these?”

“The telegrams.”

“These are not telegrams.”

“They’re the messages, the words that were supposed to be on the telegrams,” Amy said.

“How do you know that?”

“Look at them.”

“How did they end up here tonight?” Carol Anne waved them in front of Amy’s face.

“I don’t know. I have no idea.”

“Okay, okay. Let’s think.” Carol Anne paced the lawn. “Eliza the Out-of-It shows up early at the party. She wanders aimlessly, drinking herself into some Gumby/Barbie-doll state until Nick shows up. Then she comes alive, like she’s been waiting for someone to push her ON button. She grabs these papers from his back pocket and throws them at you.”

Despite the pain growing inside her chest, Amy laughed. “Okay. So she knew he had them.”

“She wanted to see if he would show up with them. But why did he have them? I thought he told you he sent these telegrams.”

“When I saw him . . . at the school—”

“You saw him again?”

Amy groaned. “Yes. He stopped by the school. I didn’t do anything wrong. I just saw him.”

“God, why him? Why now? Go ahead . . . what did he say when you saw him?”