So when she walks across the stage and receives her diploma, she has a medium level of applause. She’s smiling, which is unusual. She’s decorated the top of her graduation cap with a big red heart, like the painting I accidentally knocked off the wall in her room. I clap and wave and take a photo. I’m the vision of the proud mom.

But she isn’t looking at us, her family. I follow her smile and spot Bo leaning against the wall of the auditorium underneath the exit sign, right up front on the right side of the stage. Perhaps he’s volunteering with the ceremony, but he really should have to sit down like the rest of us. Their eyes are locked on each other as Betsy steps down from the stage.

Betsy goes back to her seat in the auditorium to watch the remainder of the class procession. If she wins the award, she’ll be back up on stage again, like Mary was, several times, if I recall correctly. Betsy really shouldn’t get her hopes up, though. She’s not a winner. That’s why I snapped some photos for her to remember the good times. I look toward Bo, his casual coolness almost too much for me. He must have felt my stare and looks my way and smiles. I turn away.

Standing against the same wall as Bo, but ten rows up, Detective Branson is busy scanning the crowd. Beside him, Sam is doing the same thing. My heart thumps. I wonder what they are looking for? I mean, we are all in our assigned spots, except Bo. Perhaps the detective is positioned close enough to grab Bo if he makes a run for it. A girl can dream.

Beside me, David is frantic, restless. He’s having trouble sitting still. He pulls out his phone, then puts it down. He managed to clap for poor Betsy as she walked across the stage, but then his attention was back to his phone.

“Excuse me, I have to go to the bathroom. I’ll be right back.” David crosses me, again, and hurries up the aisle. I need to remember to tell the Vegas police their suspect has hightailed it to Mexico. I pull out my phone and send myself a note to do that tonight. I’ll send Herbert Jr. Kylie’s latest location at least. I’m not sure how long the tracker will keep pinging me, and from the looks of it, she’s so scared she’s going to just keep driving, stopping only for gas and likely paying cash. She’s not an idiot—she simply met her match when she went after my husband. Bad choice!!