She pushed all that aside and sat at her dad’s desk. She had a laptop, but she preferred her dad’s larger screen and faster computer. Plus he had a dedicated phone line for the internet, since the Wi-Fi connection wasn’t strong.

She pulled up her email. Lucas had in fact sent her not only everything he’d found on Alexa Castillo—which wasn’t much—he also had information about Kimberly Foster, Vicky Ryan, and others.

He was right in that Alexa Castillo didn’t have any social-media profiles, but if she was a teacher, Regan knew how to dig around and find her. It took a while—her dad brought her two slices of pizza and a beer—but through a series of education links and news articles, she learned that Alexa taught second grade at one of the three elementary schools in Flagstaff. Prior, she’d done a year of student teaching in her hometown of Kingman. Which meant she would have been in Kingman when Candace was seen there three years ago.

Is that who Candace had met with?

Likely, Regan thought. Very likely.

She couldn’t find a phone number for Alexa, but she had the school name, and tomorrow was Friday. Regan would track her down at work. If Alexa could confirm their suspicions, she might also know exactly what had been going on with Candace that week.

Regan had created her own timeline of events based on what Lucas had started. She wondered why someone would leave a second note less than twenty-four hours after the first one. To make sure he got the message? To underscore the threat?

Her phone rang. She glanced at the screen: Rachel Wagner.

“Merritt.”

“Hi, Regan, it’s Rachel Wagner. I sent you a message earlier. I wanted to make sure you got it.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t respond. What time is good for you and Vicky?”

“Anytime tomorrow. I only have a class in the late morning, and I have office hours after lunch. So either before my class starts at eleven or after two.”

Regan wanted to talk to Alexa right when school got out, so she said, “Morning would be better.”

“Ten? Is that good? My office. I’ll ask Vicky to meet us there.”

“Ten. Thanks.”

She ended the call, put her work aside, and went out to the kitchen to finish her pizza with her dad. They ate in silence for a few minutes. They’d eaten a lot of pizza in their lives, but Regan never grew tired of it.

“Lucas got another note today, almost identical to the first,” she said as she grabbed her third slice. Her dad was like her: they both loved their pizza loaded. All the meat, all the veggies, the more toppings the better. Made it messy, but there was nothing better.

“Did you talk to Young?”

“Yes. I dropped off the threatening notes at the station on my way home.”