I took a deep breath and answered, balancing the phone between my ear and shoulder. “He lives.”

“Mom, I don’t have long.” He never did. I imagined Sam striding across campus, the sun streaming through his blond mop. Always on a mission, just like his mama. “I tried to call Dad at work, but no answer. You guys haven’t paid my room and board yet this semester? I tried to get a burger at the grill just now and they told me my account was suspended.”

“What?” My voice echoed loudly in the hall. Tone it down.

“She let me eat, no worries. I won’t starve. But we need to take care of that.”

Goddamn Paul. I’d entrusted him to handle the college bills—the only bills he had to deal with, mind you. So much for delegating.

“I’ll take care of it tonight.”

“Thanks, Mom. You’re the best.”

Normally I’d try to squeeze something out of him about his life, but I opted to let him go and angrily texted Paul. The exchange almost made me forget that Facebook notification. Almost. Still squatting, I opened it with the kind of dreaded precision of a bomb squad.

It was my post about Full Moon. I’d invited everyone to donate to the merit scholarship and to wear white for the fundraiser, as was tradition. Several friends had commented they would donate (some who would, some who were just posing). At the end of the list, just two minutes before, Ivy Woods had commented:

What REALLY happened to Daphne Brown? 14 days ’til Halloween...

What. The. Fuck. Yesterday Theresa told me about Jackie gallivanting around Europe, and I’d had to take half a goddamn sleeping pill to fall asleep last night. If Jackie was abroad, it was much less likely that she was this taunting creep “Ivy Woods.” And she certainly wasn’t the one stalking us in Alice’s backyard.

If it wasn’t Jackie sending us the messages, then who—

“Just the person I wanted to see.” Maggie Lewis’s syrupy voice came out of nowhere.

I looked up to find her posed in an ill-fitting suit and her TV makeup. I slipped my phone back into the side pocket of my purse. I needed to get somewhere private, stat, and delete that comment before Alice or any of the others saw it.

“Am I?” I asked as I took my time standing.

“Yes,” Maggie said. “I need you for background. For my story on the Halloween party.”

The bright blue of her suit showed off the cat hair nicely, and she was tugging down the skirt, probably too vain to order her real size.

“I don’t know about that,” I said.

“Come on, Kendra.” Maggie fake-frowned, cocked her head. “You know all the history. Surely you won’t pass up a chance for publicity. No camera. For now.”

All the history. Like Daphne?