“Lane.” Ronnie swallowed hard. Here goes. She had to tell him. “It’s true. I was in her office.”

Lane blinked at her. She rushed on. “Only for a minute. I just . . . I didn’t touch anything, not really.” Liar! a voice screamed in her head. “It was so, so wrong, but we just felt picked on, you know? And frustrated and small and . . .”

Lane held up his hand. “It’s okay. I get it.” He sighed. “I wish you’d told Cromwell this to start, but it is what it is.” But then he looked at her strangely. “You didn’t know there was a file on you in there, did you?”

“No!” Ronnie cried. “I swear!”

Lane nodded slowly, but he didn’t look like he quite believed her. “Because, I mean, if you did know, and if there’s something in that file you didn’t want people to know about, then it makes logical sense you’d want to steal it back.”

“What would be in my file I wouldn’t want people to know?” Ronnie blurted.

Lane cocked his head. “That you work as a topless dancer? Unless there’s something else . . .”

“No,” Ronnie said quickly—maybe too quickly. “No, of course there isn’t anything else.”

Her heart was pounding. It felt like she’d dug herself into a hole. She didn’t even know if the evidence about stealing Esme was in that file at the school. Most likely it wasn’t, because wouldn’t the school feel obligated to report her?

But then there was someone who knew. She looked at Lane in horror, something new coming to mind. “Did you know they kept files on people?”

“Of course not.” Lane’s eyes flashed. “No way.” Now he looked really concerned. “Ronnie, what’s going on? You’re acting strange.”

Ronnie licked her dry lips. She had to get a hold of herself. She had to try to breathe.

There was a scruff of beard on Lane’s cheeks. His eyes were bloodshot, too, as though he’d tossed and turned last night. I’m acting strange because there’s so much I haven’t told you, Ronnie almost wanted to scream. She wasn’t sure she deserved to have someone so squarely in her corner.

But instead she shook her head. “I’m fine,” she said. “I . . . I just don’t like the police being here. I want this to end.”

“I know,” Lane said, holding her tight. “But don’t worry. It will.”

•   •   •

After Lane left, Ronnie parked Esme in front of a My Little Pony app on the iPad—she could only imagine what the women in the Silver Swans Facebook group would say about that—and called Andrea. Andrea’s voice was cagey when she picked up. “A cop was just here,” Ronnie said.

“What? Why?”

“They know we were in Piper’s office.”

“How?”