Carson strolled around his desk, opened a drawer, and riffled through some file folders. He located what he was looking for and thrust it in her direction. “It’s her name on the account. She knows everything. See?”

He handed her a sign-up sheet for a local bank. The account’s digits looked familiar—perhaps the second account where the money was being siphoned. Andrea didn’t trust it, though. “You could have Photoshopped these, after the fact.”

“I didn’t. This was all her idea. Besides, Nancy Drew, the police already questioned me about an alibi. I was out back, behind the school, planting a fucking garden when it happened.” Then he cocked his head. “Okay, yes, I did leak that information about you guys to the press, the police, your mother. But it was only so you would keep your mouths shut.”

Andrea frowned. “How did you know we’d figure this out? Because we were in her office?”

Carson looked at her like she was nuts. “You already knew. You and that . . . that stripper girl. She told both of you.”

“Who’s she?”

He put his hands on his hips, looking flustered. “Flora. The . . . the bracelets. She told you to wear them, didn’t she?”

“The . . . bracelets? Flora?” Andrea looked down at her wrist. The only bracelet she was wearing was the stretchy yellow one Jerry had given her. “This?” She held up her wrist.

“Yes!” Carson said, exasperated.

Andrea laughed. “I haven’t spoken to Flora about anything.” But as she said this, the back of her neck began to prickle. Jerry had told her—without telling her—that something strange was going on in this office.

“Come on. Flora’s kid went here last year.” Carson was saying this like she should know. “She was the only one who noticed the increments of money missing. She confronted Piper. We had to pay her off, but I always worried she’d tell people anyway.” He slapped his sides. “We got rid of all the parents who knew her. Came up with bullshit excuses of why we couldn’t welcome them back after Silver Swans reopened its doors. Made this school even more exclusive. But then you and Veronica whatever-her-name-is came along wearing her stupid bracelets.” He stared at her. “She didn’t talk to you?”

“I know Flora’s father,” Andrea said slowly. “I don’t know Flora.” She was so dazed she took a step back, bumping into a low credenza on the far wall. “Wait, so you sent those notes then, too. The ones to our kids. You pretended to draw like a kindergartener to . . . to mess with our heads. To make us withdraw. Do you realize how sick that is?”