Mr. Weaver shrugged. “Spence loved Amber,” he said. “Like, loved her. She said she was going to UCLA, and he decided he was going with her. Problem was, he had a hard time with exams, especially when there was a lot of pressure to do well. He managed okay in school, I mean, his grades were pretty good, given his anxiety around finals, but he bombed his first two attempts at the SAT. He wouldn’t have been able to get in the door at UCLA.
“Then, one day, he takes the test and bam! He scores really high. Those were the scores he submitted, and all of a sudden he’s in and has a scholarship to boot. But a month or so later, we heard that the school was questioning the scores. Spence had to retake the test, and he actually did okay—good enough to get in at UCLA at least—but nothing like his earlier scores. UCLA suspected he’d cheated, but they couldn’t prove it, so they pulled his scholarship but still let him attend if he could pay for it. Trouble for him was, he didn’t have the money to go, but then all of a sudden I heard that he did. Somebody came up with the cash for him. At least that’s what I heard. I always wondered if it was Amber’s parents who came through, or maybe some other mysterious benefactor. Spence was loved by a lot of people, so it was possible.”
My heart was hammering in my chest. The photo of Ben sitting in the front row of the classroom, about to take his SATs with Mr. Bishop, flashed over and over in my mind.
A quick glance at Cole told me he was likely thinking of it, too. “Did my uncle have any problems with any of the teachers?” he asked.
Mr. Weaver scratched his head. “Problem? No way. Like I said, everybody loved him.”
“We heard that he had an issue with Mr. Bishop,” I said boldly, if only to possibly trigger Weaver’s memory.
“Bishop?” he said. “Who was that?”
“He taught freshmen algebra,” I said.
Weaver shrugged. “Never heard of him. But I was advanced math, and back when I went to Chamberlain, high school started in tenth grade. It changed to start in the ninth grade when I was a junior, so if Bishop taught only freshmen, I’d never have had him.”
“We also heard that Spence beat up one of his friends,” Cole said carefully. It was maybe one question too many about Ben’s character. Weaver’s eyes narrowed.
“Yeah, I wouldn’t know anything about that.” It was clear to me that now Weaver was lying. “Listen, I gotta get back to watering the plants. Good luck to you guys with the paper, okay?”
On our way back to the car, I said, “So, do we both think that Bishop somehow helped Ben score really high on the SATs?”
“Has to be,” Cole said as he opened the car door. “But why would that be worth killing him over?”
I thought about it as I walked around and slid into the passenger seat. “Maybe because Spence was going to come clean?”
Cole sat down behind the wheel and nodded. “Okay, so how was your grandmother involved?”
I laid my head back against the seat. “I have no idea. But we know that he took the SATs with Bishop. The photo in the yearbook proves it.” And then another thought occurred to me. “Ohmigod! Cole! We forgot to take the yearbooks back to your grandmother’s!”
Cole glanced at the clock on the dash. “Shit! If we hurry, we can get them back before she comes home from her shift.”
“I’m not going inside with you this time,” I said. “’No more trespassing for me.”
“Glad to know you’re going straight,” he said lightly.
I rolled my eyes. “Just drive.”
Cole eased down the street and stopped several houses away. “Dammit,” he muttered. His grandmother’s car was parked in the driveway.
“I thought you said her shift ended at four.” I sat hunched down, nervously clutching the yearbooks.
“Sometimes they rotate her onto an earlier shift,” he said, tapping the steering wheel with his fingers.
“What do we do?” I asked.
Cole picked up his phone and looked at the display. “If she was gonna notice, she would’ve already. They came from my uncle’s room, and I don’t think she goes in there much. She even keeps the door locked.”
“She keeps the door locked? How’d you get in to get the yearbooks?” I asked.
Cole shrugged like it was an easy thing and pulled out his wallet from his back pocket. Taking out his school ID, he said, “All you have to do is slide this between the door frame and the latch, and—presto—you’re past security.”
I let out a small laugh. “If it’s that easy to get past, I wonder why she bothers to lock the door.”
Cole glanced sideways at me. “She doesn’t know I can get in there,” he admitted. “Like I said, Grams is a little weird about Ben’s room. It’s her shrine. Ben was her favorite by far. Sometimes she still talks about him in the present tense—like he’s still here. She just couldn’t get over losing him. She tells me all the time that he was the only one that used to take care of her. I guess he stood up for her against my granddad and stuff. Spence would make sure she didn’t get hit.”
I sucked in a breath. “Your granddad beat up your grandmother?”
Cole nodded solemnly. “He was a real asshole.”
“Why didn’t she leave him?” I asked, looking back toward the house. I felt such sympathy for Mrs. Spencer.