“Look,” he finally said in an undertone Emma had to strain to hear. “If there are any people you have a funny feeling about—strange people hanging around the house, boys who seemed too aggressive with her
—if she had any enemies, give me their names. I’ll look into it. But right now, I have no evidence, no leads, no clues. Give me something to work with.”
Dr. Banerjee shook his head. “She didn’t have any enemies. None that I knew of.” His hands came free from each other and flew to cover his face. “I don’t know who would want to do something like this to
my little girl,” he groaned, his back shuddering.
Behind the monument, a surge of guilt welled up in Emma. Should she tell them about the calls and frantic text from Nisha? Her stomach tightened with anxiety. Quinlan’s suspicions were always quick to rise
when Sutton Mercer was involved. At best, he’d probably dismiss it as another attention-seeking prank. At worst, Emma would end up on a list of suspects, and her own story would crumble easily on inspection.
“I need a drink of water,” Dr. Banerjee finally said. His voice sounded tense, as if he was fighting for calm. His face had composed itself, except for his eyes. They were bloodshot and wild.
Quinlan nodded. “Come on, Sanjay.” With surprising gentleness he helped Dr. Banerjee to his feet, and the two men walked to the banquet table set up in the shade of a cedar.
Emma slumped against the tombstone, her heart hammering. So Nisha’s room had been ransacked. But what had the killer been looking for? And did they find it, or was it still there in Nisha’s bedroom?
Emma stared at Nisha’s coffin for a long moment, the deep brown wood shining in the sun. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered. Her gaze fell on the grave she’d been hiding behind. JESMINDER BANERJEE, it read.
BELOVED WIFE AND MOTHER. Nisha’s mom. She hadn’t even thought of that—of course they’d bury Nisha by her mother.
Emma pushed herself up and walked across the green. The crowd was starting to thin. In the distant parking lot she could hear cars starting and doors slamming.
She passed a cluster of Hollier students who were standing close together near a weather-beaten mausoleum with an urn of wilting lilies in front of it. Garrett Austin stood between his younger sister, Louisa,
and Celeste, his current girlfriend. Garrett had been Sutton’s “official” boyfriend at the time of her death, although she’d been seeing Thayer secretly at the same time. When Emma had taken her place, he
’d offered up his virginity to her as a birthday gift, and after she bolted in a panic, they’d broken up.
Garrett looked devastated. His eyes were red, his blond hair lusterless and unwashed. He’d dated Nisha for a few weeks, and even though they’d broken up, he was obviously not taking her death well. He
glanced up and noticed Emma, staring at her blankly, as though he didn’t quite recognize her.
Caught, Emma took a tentative step toward him.
“How are you holding up?” Emma asked awkwardly, touching his shoulder.
Garrett blinked, and then all at once his face darkened into a scowl. He jerked away from her hand, his arms taut with anger. She instinctively took a step back. He looked for a moment like he wanted to take
a swing at her.
“What do you care? You barely even knew her,” he hissed.
Behind him, Emma could see that Celeste looked shocked by his anger. Louisa glanced from Emma to Garrett, confused.
Emma felt frozen in place. Barely knew her? Sure, Emma had only known Nisha for a few months. But Sutton had grown up with Nisha.
“Garrett, I know you’re upset . . .” Celeste started, laying her hand on his arm. He whipped around violently so that his nose was inches from hers. Emma’s entire body tensed at the wild expression on his
face. A nasty sneer twisted his lips.
“You don’t know anything,” he snarled. “Would you just shut up for five minutes? I’m starting to think Nisha was right about you.”
Emma’s jaw fell open. Celeste’s expression darkened. “Is that so?” she snapped, the airy quality gone from her voice. “When did you have this cozy little chat about me?”
“It’s none of your business,” he shouted. By now most of the other students they’d been standing with had slunk away awkwardly. Louisa watched her brother with anxious, darting eyes.
Laurel materialized at Emma’s side and grabbed her by the arm, steering her past them, toward the parking lot. “Come on,” she whispered, even as Celeste’s voice rose up angrily behind them. “Arguing at a
funeral? How tacky.”
“I can’t believe he’d yell at his girlfriend like that,” Emma said, feeling a little dazed. She let Laurel lead her past the rows upon rows of headstones.
Laurel stopped for a moment, raising her eyebrow. “Excuse me? You two used to go at it all the time.”
Emma stared at Sutton’s sister.
Laurel shrugged. “Come on, Sutton, he used to freak out about everything. You not calling him back quick enough, you wearing too short a skirt, you not making one of his games. He’s not exactly even-keeled.