“Do you think they are capable?”
Julie stared, trying to gauge what Dr. Rose was getting at. Did she think one of the others had? Ava? Parker? Julie couldn’t bear the idea of Parker being questioned. “Of course not,” she said hoarsely. “None of them.” But the way Dr. Rose was looking at her, she started to wonder. Was there something she and the police knew that Julie didn’t? She tried to remember everything about the night Granger died. Just because she hadn’t gone back to Granger’s house didn’t mean the others hadn’t. But that was crazy, right? She couldn’t start distrusting them now.
“Okay.” Dr. Rose stood. “Well, this has been very helpful. I may have further questions for you, so please keep your phone close by.” She stood up and opened the door, holding out her arm to let Julie know she was free to go. “Thank you for your time, Julie.”
Julie stood up slowly, totally nonplussed. She grabbed her purse and stepped past the doctor. “Bye.”
She scurried down the hall and into the lobby, expecting to find Parker waiting for her, but she wasn’t there. Frustrated, she stepped into the late afternoon sunlight. Parker was nowhere to be seen. Julie pulled her phone from her pocket and dialed Parker’s number. Straight to voice mail. For a brief, paranoid second, Julie was afraid Parker had heard everything she’d said about her to Dr. Rose, including how much Julie blamed herself, and suddenly decided that she blamed Julie, too—and took off.
She rubbed her eyes, then headed over to her car. For a moment she sat in the seat, not sure what to do. There was no way she could go home. She didn’t want to talk to anyone, either. So she turned the ignition, pulled out of the parking space, and just . . . drove, around little neighborhoods, through downtown Beacon, even by the water. She really, really needed to decompress.
But the drive wasn’t proving to be very therapeutic, and after circumnavigating Beacon, she was still jittery and anxious. When she glanced at the phone lying on the passenger seat, she noticed that the screen was lit up with Instagram alerts—dozens of them. She tapped on the app, and when @ashleyferg has tagged you in a photo popped up, her stomach swooped.
Slowly, she tapped on Instagram. It was another photo of Julie’s house, but this time, a Department of Health Services van sat out front. So did a vehicle with the words BEACON ANIMAL RESCUE printed on the sides. The shot showed officials and workers standing on the porch or hauling cat carriers out of the house. Julie’s mother stood in the yard, her mouth an angry triangle, her hair askew, her face more insane-looking than ever.
Julie gawked. When had this happened? Today? Then she looked at the caption.
Julie Redding, queen of the felines no longer! #nofilter.
Julie dropped onto the bench behind her. “Oh my god,” she whispered. Ashley had called Animal Control on them. This was going to be a nightmare. Those cats were all her mom cared about . . . and now they were going to be taken away. It meant Mrs. Redding would focus all her attention on Julie. All her wrath.
Just when she thought her life couldn’t get any worse. That bitch.
For some reason, the word echoed in her mind. She suddenly heard Parker saying it yesterday: That bitch is going down, with that horrible look on her face. She looked again at the Instagram post. Ashley had put it up almost an hour ago. Had Parker seen it yet? That bitch is going down. I am going to get her. And even when Julie said they couldn’t do that, Parker had said, I wish we could. I wish, just once, we could.
Oh, god. Suddenly Julie wondered if she knew exactly where Parker was right then. Was she getting revenge?
Julie tapped at her phone, pulling up Ashley’s number. No one picked up. She quickly logged on to the Beacon High student site and found Ashley’s home address. She ran to her car and sped out of the parking lot, only forcing herself to slow down so she wouldn’t get pulled over. She dialed Parker again and again. Still no answer. “Parker, where are you?” she cried. “Look, I hope you’re not freaking out over that Instagram. Because I’m not. I’m fine. Okay?”
She took a right, then a left, then another left. A steady monologue drummed in her head. Parker probably isn’t with Ashley. That doesn’t even make any sense—she’s not the same girl as before, the girl who got in people’s faces and shook things up. You’re being crazy.