“What do you think happened?” Stevie said.

“You don’t know what to think when four teenagers are stabbed to death in the woods. It makes no sense, so you assume it must be someone sick, some stranger, something like that. My gut always told me it had nothing to do with drugs or serial killers, but the truth is, I have absolutely no idea what happened in the woods that night. It was so barbaric, so confusing.”

“So,” Stevie said, “if not drugs or a serial killer . . .”

“I don’t know,” Susan said again, and her tone was final. She was done. Stevie glanced over at David, who drained his coffee in one gulp.

“One last thing,” Stevie said. “Sabrina’s diary . . .”

“Oh yes. Allison has been . . . Allison wanted that diary for years. She asked me about it many times. I packed up Sabrina’s things for the family, but it wasn’t there.”

“Could someone have taken it?”

“Of course,” Susan said, as if this was a stupid question, which it kind of was. Anyone can take anything.

“I mean,” Stevie said, “it sounds like Sabrina hid it to keep campers from reading it.”

“I had hundreds of hysterical kids and parents to take care of,” Susan said. “It took a few days—some people had gone on vacation, things like that. I got every single one of those kids packed up and home. Then I spent two full days packing up everything those four brought to camp. I made sure their parents got every last thing, neat and packed with care. Well, almost every last thing. Anything like cigarettes, drug related—I put those things in separate boxes.”

“Didn’t the police go through their things first?”

“No,” Susan said, smirking. “Never bothered to go through their stuff in their cabins. I asked them several times if they wanted to search the bunks, but they had no interest.”

“Do you still have the boxes?” Stevie asked.

“No. Eventually, maybe fifteen years later, the police asked for them. The whole investigation was a mess. But to answer your question, no. I cleaned out every inch of Sabrina’s cabin. The diary was not there. I told Allison that, and I’m telling you that.”

She picked up the cat, who was circling her ankles.

“Good luck,” she said. “It would be nice if someone did solve this case. I’d like to see whatever bastard did this get everything they deserve. We all would.”

21

“LEARN ANYTHING?” DAVID ASKED AS THEY HEADED BACK TO THE CAR.

Stevie stuffed her hands into the pockets of her shorts and concentrated on the cracks in the sidewalk.

“Don’t know,” Stevie said. “I mean, on the surface it was all stuff that’s in all the articles. But there was something—I don’t know what. Something was weird.”

“Weird like she was involved?”

“No,” she said, turning toward him. “I mean, I don’t know, but I don’t think so? Something’s sticking out. There’s something about it that . . .”