“Unbelievable. Some of it is self-generated, but lots of it comes from the parents. They are vicious when it comes to their children. You’d swear that it was they who were applying. If their children don’t get into the prescribed school, they take it as a failure on themselves.”

“Why?”

She sighed. “Because…unfortunately…they see their children as a reflection upon their own status. Lots of these parents didn’t go to any of the Ivies. So they want something better for their children. And those that did go, they feel their children should continue the legacy.” She licked her lips. “It’s a bit intense—”

“It’s nuts!” Marge said. “There’s life beyond college.”

“Not in this fiercely competitive world. You need an edge.”

“And this is what Dee Baldwin was selling?” Marge asked. “The edge?”

“She wasn’t selling anything! She was just helping kids reach their maximum potential!”

“You know what happens to a machine that runs full-tilt?”

“People are not machines!”

“But they do burn out. How much do these parents pay to get the edge?”

“They pay for the therapy and for the tutelage. It varies from child to child.”

“About.”

“Three-fifty an hour. About what lawyers make, and they do a hell of a lot more good than attorneys.” She kneaded her hands. “It’s not an easy task—fitting each child with the right university. Sometimes parents are insistent even if the odds are bad. You do your best with whatever raw material you have. Sometimes parents want miracles.”

“And what happens when they figure out you’re not a miracle worker? What happens to those cases?”

There was silence. Then she said, “Dee had a good success rate. She could always point to that.”

“Dee scribbled the word ‘Harvard’ on Holt’s chart. But Holt went to Berkeley,” Marge said. “Does that mean he didn’t get into the college of his dreams?”

“I have no idea.” Maryam hesitated. “Berkeley is a top school.”

“It’s not Harvard—”

“Actually, it’s better than Harvard in some departments.”

“But it doesn’t have that same…cachet, correct?”

“Only if you’re very narrow-minded.”

“Or an angry, hostile teenager.”

“You’re actually suggesting that Holt killed the Baldwins because he didn’t get into Harvard eight years ago?”

The nagging question: If Holt wanted vengeance, why did he wait so long? “Does the name Ricky Moke sound familiar to you?”

She thought, then shook her head. “No, I can’t say that it does.”

“Can you check to see if Baldwin has a file for him?”

“With that warrant, I suppose I don’t really have a choice.”

“No, you don’t, but I’m being polite.”

Maryam looked down. “At least you’re honest. How old is he?”

“I don’t know…probably around Holt’s age.”

“A past patient?”

“I’d assume so.”