“Maybe it’s different now for her, now she knows they’re responsible for killing someone. I don’t know. I told her I was going to make sure they paid, left her my card.”

Sherlock met Mia’s eyes, slowly nodded. “It’s a lot to ask of her since she can’t prove anything, and it would impact her life, her family, and her career. But if anyone can bring her forward, it would be you, Mia, you and Tommy; you both loved Serena so much, it would make it very real for her. Now, tell me about Coach Wiliker at Bennington Prep.”

Mia ran through the interview. “It’s obvious to me now I didn’t handle him well. He was probably the one who called Alex, told him about the strange questions I asked. Maybe, too, Pamela got suspicious, or someone thought it was odd I spent so much time speaking with the departmental secretaries at Harvard. It also occurred to me Alex could have asked his senior staffer, Miles Lombardy, to have drinks with me last night so the candidate would know exactly where I’d be.”

Sherlock said, “It was a spur-of-the-moment plan, but it might have worked if not for Lex.”

“If Lex weren’t so much younger, I’d have asked him to marry me.”

Sherlock grinned at her, took another drink of her coffee, set down the Minnie Mouse mug. She said, “Mia, imagine you were born with the proverbial silver spoon. All your life you’ve been given everything you wanted. You’re lucky enough to be smart, you’re very good-looking, both men and women like you, you never have occasion to question why you’re at the top of the food chain. Then you and your best buddy from childhood attend Bennington Prep, and you come up with the idea to roofie and rape one of the girls. If she’s not willing, who cares? You’re bulletproof. You go ahead with your twisted teenage fantasy, and it’s great. Nothing happens. You get away with it. No harm, no foul. So you do it again. And again.

“It becomes another amusement you share with Kent, like gaming, but you know you have to keep yourselves safe. You might be worried the first couple of times the girls might remember, but they don’t say a thing. You realize even if a girl did say something, she wouldn’t have any proof against you. You’re the golden boy.