“What’s your alternate theory, then?” I ask, sandpaper edge to my voice. “If you don’t think Bedecki did it.”

“Everyone loved Caroline, so I don’t know,” he answers unhelpfully. “It just never sat right that it was Joe. My best guess: probably some out-of-towner psycho who was in and out before anyone bothered to look, so the sheriff pinned it on the nearest guy they could. Lots of serial killers in Northern California in the seventies, we came to find out.”

I look to the bend in the parking lot, willing Ben’s car to appear. I’m cold, wet, and let down. While it could be possible a serial killer rolled into Seaview in 1970 and happened upon Caroline, what are the chances he did so again two days ago to randomly murder Natalie? It doesn’t make sense. Frank’s theory is interesting, but not likely. Another dead end.

“If you don’t believe me, talk to Grace.” Frank nods at the building. “Works right here at the school, in the front office. Joe is her brother. She’ll tell you. We’re the only two folk who don’t spit his name like a curse.”

Grace. I remember her from my first day. Maura breezed into the front office and ordered Grace around like her pet. She was sweet, walking me to class. To think she carries this pain with her, working in the very place where it all went down, helping the children of people who have painted her brother as a murderer. Of course, maybe her brother is a murderer.

Ben’s wheels splash into the lot. “Thanks for sending him for the car,” I say, “and for the information.” I offer my best grateful-young-person expression, and, with a salute, Frank makes a dash to his own truck.

I duck through the downpour and into Ben’s passenger seat. A warm car never felt so good. Ben must have run into the house; I’m glad to see him sitting on towels, with one thrown over his shoulders, dark-blond hair dripping rivulets of water down his neck onto the white terry cloth. His glasses are streaked with half-dried droplets.

“My knight in shining armor.”

“In needs-a-wash Toyota, more like,” Ben quips back. Then he wrinkles his nose. “So what was so important to say to you that Frank needed to send me off?”

“You don’t miss a beat.”