But Maura’s meddling also means I’ll have to rehash the details of finding Natalie to her own mother. Dance around what I’m doing in the wake of her death: Poking around. Exposing secrets.

Losing myself.

CHAPTER TWENTY

I set foot on campus Monday and feel the target on my back. All over, really. Anywhere people catch a glimpse of me. Their eyes rake over my face; whispers follow behind me when they think I can’t hear. She found the body.

But soon a new word, breathed low in the halls between homeroom and first period, reaches my ears: sheriff.

And then there he is, center court behind the podium in the gymnasium, at an impromptu assembly called at the end of first period. “My staff and I are working tirelessly to explore all avenues of inquiry,” he says. “We ask for everyone’s patience and remind everyone to please not disturb the scene of the crime.” His hard gaze sweeps across the bleachers, lands on me. I shift in my seat, shame burning up my neck. But the sheriff moves on. He can’t know what I’ve been up to. There’s no camera by the pool’s back door. I checked.

“We’ll be conducting interviews all day in the library. Some of you will be called down to speak to us.”

I follow the sheriff’s eyeline right to Luke, sitting two rows in front of me. Satisfaction pulses through me to see him squirm.

“But we encourage those with information—about the victim, the night in question, anything that may be relevant—to come forward. My deputy is available to speak with anyone on a walk-in basis.”

Said deputy is Shields, who tugs at the collar of her stiff uniform, looking kiddish next to the handsome-if-weathered sheriff. And she avoids looking directly at the crowd, instead finding fault with her fingernails.

“Hey, Sexy Lexie!” rings out from behind me.

I twist around and locate the source: a crop of stoner kids, sniggering, and one girl with the same high cheekbones and dark eyes as Deputy Shields, glowing with embarrassment. Younger sister? Shields probably only graduated a year or two ago and is now playing big bad deputy in front of her peers.

The teasing turns her defiant; she stares hard, straight ahead. At Gabriel, I realize with a sour spike. They share twin nods. A family friend.

Principal Morris steps up to the mic to finish. “There is also a grief counselor available to see those who wish to talk to her. If you need to leave class to speak to someone, you may, but we will be monitoring student activity in the halls and the parking lot, so this is not an opportunity to leave campus or skip.”