I don’t know what I’d expected. A fancy stage, a background, a podium like press conferences in movies maybe. Instead, the mayor is on his front lawn looking like the world’s saddest car salesman. His eyes are rimmed red, but his suit is crisp, his speech prepared. Dr. Shelby stands beside him with a thousand-yard stare.

“My beautiful daughter, Natalie Aurora Bergen, is gone,” he begins, his voice shaky but resolute. “I’d like to start by thanking the sheriff and his team for their diligence and care during this difficult time. I have full confidence that they will get to the bottom of my daughter’s unfortunate passing.” He chokes a bit on that. Euphemisms for death are so strange. Unnatural. Why doesn’t he just say dead? Murdered.

“Natalie was a light in the darkness,” he continues. “A shining example to us all. She loved public service, her friends, her school, her community.”

Well, she didn’t love her friends all the time. I think back to the screaming match with Morgan. I know they’re her parents, but between their statement and the article, no one is telling the truth. No longer able to take it, I slip away while Maura and Suzanne aren’t paying attention. I head straight for Maura’s office. I know she’s prickly about me coming in here, but she also did say I could borrow any book I wanted. I locate my copy of Killer Queen immediately, still slightly out of sync with the rest of the books on the shelf.

I would’ve thought everyone—the police, the mayor, the newspaper—would have mentioned the connection to the book. But even though Maura’s business is ubiquitous in this town, it strikes me that maybe most people in Seaview haven’t actually read her books—except for Morgan. Because it’s obvious to me Natalie’s death was no accident. I flip open the book to where I left off: homecoming night. I skim until I find the passage.

She looked so peaceful, floating in her perfect white homecoming-queen dress. Her crown made a home at the pool’s bottom, glinting up through the shimmering blue. Melinda held her breath, watching the swirl of blond locks that fanned out from Cassidy’s head like a halo, her body sprawled spread-eagled on the pool’s surface. She wondered: Did Cassidy realize what was happening at the moment of her death? She hoped not. A shudder passed through her. She needed to get help, call somebody. The ceiling shook from the mass of bodies in the gym above, jumping up and down in unison on the chorus of a Neil Diamond song. “Sweet Caroline.” Melinda thought she might be sick.