Julie shifted her weight uneasily. She’d talked to enough cops after Parker’s hospitalization to know that Peters was trying to coax them into telling more than they’d planned.
Julie exchanged glances with the others. Mackenzie pressed her fingertips together in quick, nervous patterns, her dirty-blond hair in a messy side braid. Caitlin’s lips were a thin line on her face. She looked even smaller than usual in an oversize USA soccer sweatshirt. Parker gripped the edge of the table as if she were on the edge of a cliff, and it was the only thing for her to hold on to.
Ava finally spoke up. “I think I know who killed Nolan Hotchkiss.” Her voice was so soft Julie could barely hear.
Detective Peters’s eyebrows shot up.
“I think it was Mr. Granger,” Julie added. “Our advanced film studies teacher.”
The detective licked his lips, clasping his hands together on the table in front of him. “That’s a very serious accusation, Miss Jalali,” he said finally. “Why would you say such a thing?”
“He’s been . . . intimate with a lot of the girls in our class,” Ava said. “And Nolan knew it. He was blackmailing him.”
“I see,” said Detective Peters soberly. “Do you have any proof of this?”
“He came on to me,” Ava said miserably. “Today.”
“I’ve heard it happening with other girls, too,” Julie pointed out, even though this was all news to her.
“And how do you know Nolan knew?”
This time, Parker cleared her throat. “Because I used to be friends with him. He told me he knew. He said Granger kept pictures of girls on his iPhone.”
Julie stared at Parker, astonished by her quick thinking. They hadn’t rehearsed this. The other girls looked surprised and pleased, too.
The detective scratched his head. He glanced at Parker, then quickly looked away, perhaps put off by her face. “I see.”
“You should search his phone,” Ava piped up. “A-and you should look through his house. For evidence of Oxy.”
“And you should at least arrest him for what he’s doing to these students,” Julie added. “It’s wrong.”
Detective Peters tapped on the top of his desk. Finally, he shook his head. “Perhaps Granger has some things to answer for, but as far as we’re concerned, Nolan’s death isn’t one of them.” Then he leaned back in his chair again and gave them a long look that was hard to decipher. “But we do have some questions for all of you.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
WE DO HAVE SOME QUESTIONS for all of you. The words reverberated through Mackenzie’s mind, but before she had the chance to wonder what he was talking about—what type of questions he might ask—Peters went on.
“We looked through Nolan’s phone shortly after his death. We found some pretty steamy pictures of you there, Miss Wright,” he said, looking straight at Mackenzie.
Her stomach dropped. She lowered her head, too humiliated to make eye contact with the others. By their gasps, it was clear they didn’t know what he was talking about. “Nolan does that to everyone,” she mumbled.
Peters didn’t look impressed. “We also tracked down the IP address of the individual who sent out the photos of Mr. Hotchkiss . . . defaced . . . at that party, to an internet café. Several people say a blond girl with your height and build was seen at the time in question.”
Mac felt her cheeks turn red. “It wasn’t me.”
Then the detective turned to Ava. “We also found a death threat from you.”
Ava blinked. “What are you talking about?”
He opened the manila file on the table in front of him and took out a thick folder. When he opened it, the first page showed a printout of text messages.
“‘If you keep telling lies about me, I’ll kill you,’” he read out loud.
Ava’s lips turned downward. “He was spreading rumors about me. I just wanted him to stop.”
“Twenty different kids told me they saw you heading upstairs with him the night of the party, Miss Jalali.” He gave a mock-confused smile. “I guess you were a little mixed-up the last time we talked, huh?”
Then the detective looked at Caitlin. “It’s no secret why you might want him dead, Miss Martell-Lewis. But killing a bully isn’t the way to deal with a problem.”
Caitlin turned pale. “You don’t know anything about me,” she spat.
“And I saved the best for last.” The detective then held up a photo. It was a close-up showing the word Monster on his face. Julie gasped. “We’re still waiting for a final report from forensics, but you see that funny-looking M, with a loop-de-loop up the middle? Familiar, huh?”
Then the detective stood. “Look. I don’t know what all this means, but I do know you ladies are lying. I don’t know why, but I’ll give you a break: Tell me the truth now, and we can work something out. It’s better to get everything out in the open before things get really crazy.”