Britta rolled her eyes. “Honey, I heard about everything. At that school, I was dialed in! Spence and Bishop brought it on themselves. I mean, you don’t get a below-average score on your SATs two times running, and then suddenly score in the ninetieth percentile without somebody noticing. Spence’s scholarship to play football at UCLA was taken away and Bishop got suspended, but I heard he moved to Bumpass and did okay for himself, so where’s the harm? He hated teaching. It was probably the best thing that ever happened to him.”
“Why are you so sure that Spence broke up with Amber at prom?” I asked. What she’d said earlier bothered me. It felt untrue.
“Because that night, Spence gave a note to his best friend to give to Amber, telling her that they were breaking up.”
I was stunned. “What note?” Cole asked. “We didn’t hear anything about a breakup note.”
Britta shook her head. “I never saw it, but my boyfriend, who was Spence’s best friend, told me all about it. He said he gave the note to Amber out in the hallway, and she read it in front of him, then ran off, probably to find Spence. I’ll bet he still feels responsible for setting things in motion. Anyway, he made me promise not to tell anybody about it, not even the police. I had misgivings about that, but then Amber killed herself and that sort of settled things. Plus I didn’t want to get my boyfriend in trouble. He and Spence cheated on those SATs together, only Spence was the one who got caught.”
“Spence’s best friend told you this?” I said. “You mean, Grady Weaver?”
Britta stiffened and curled her lip at me. “Grady was a little douchebag and definitely not Spence’s best friend.”
“Bill Metcalf?” Cole tried.
Again, Britta rolled her eyes. She was good at that. “I’m talking about Jamie.”
Cole and I exchanged glances. That was the first time we’d heard the name. “Jamie?” Cole said. “Jamie who?”
Britta turned with her hands full of produce back to the fridge. “For investigative reporters, you two sure miss a lot. I’m talking about the high and mighty Jamie Bennett.” At the mention of my father’s name, I sucked in a breath and held it. “There’s another douchebag for you,” Britta went on. “He dumped me the day after Amber killed herself. What a jerk. I hear he’s some big cardiac surgeon in Richmond now. My husband said that Bennett just dumped his wife and got his receptionist pregnant. Tells you what sort of a guy he is, huh?”
There was a loud clack on the floor as my cell phone fell out of my hands and hit the tile. Cole put an arm around my middle to steady me and reached for the phone.
I watched in a heart-pounding daze as Britta turned around to look at me. “You okay?” she asked.
I’d gone from holding my breath to taking in short, panicked pants, and I could feel the throbbing of blood in my ears as my heart raced.
“We should go,” Cole said, taking me by the hand and easing me toward the door.
“What’s wrong with her?” Britta asked.
“Nothing,” Cole said. “Thank you, Mrs. Schroder.”
I sensed my legs moving more than I felt them, and even though my body was starting to rebel against me, my thoughts were crystal clear and terrifying.
We made it to Cole’s car, and he gently eased me inside. My eyes were barely open because I was trying so hard to focus on breathing. Sweat trickled down my back and matted my hair to my head. My arms and legs were trembling, and if Cole hadn’t been there, talking soothingly to me, I’m positive I would’ve blacked out.
He got in next to me and started up the car, blasting the AC and turning all the vents toward me. It actually helped.
At last, my breathing slowed down and the panic attack subsided. “Talk to me,” he said.
“She was talking about my father, Cole. My father!”
“Your dad?” he said. “Are you sure?”
I began to check off the facts on my fingers. “My father’s name is James. It’s possible he went by the name Jamie when he was younger. He also grew up in Fredericksburg, and he probably attended Chamberlain High. He’s never talked to me about his childhood, not even high school, and now I think it’s because he’s had something to hide. Plus he would’ve been eighteen in nineteen eighty-seven. He also just dumped his wife—my mom—because he got his receptionist pregnant!”
Cole sat there, looking at me with such sympathy. I could tell he was also putting a few things together. It was all making sense now. The discordant pieces. The betrayal. The lies. The cover-up.
“He and Spence cheated on their SATs. Spence got caught and got into that fistfight with my dad over it. Maybe he threatened to rat out my dad. Maybe my dad killed him, and convinced his parents to help him cover it up. Maybe they bribed the schoolteacher who helped him cheat with the beach house.”
“We don’t know that your dad had anything to do with Spence’s murder,” Cole said.
I laughed mirthlessly. “Oh, come on,” I said. “You heard Britta. My dad’s an asshole. He’s cold, calculating, ruthless. He threw my mom and me away like litter. He’s a bastard. He could’ve totally killed them, Cole. He could’ve.”
After confessing that, I dissolved into a puddle of tears.
BRITTA WAS CRYING IN THE LADIES’ ROOM, and I was so mad at her that I couldn’t really drum up much sympathy, but for the sake of ten years of friendship, I tried.
“Britt? Are you going to come out of that stall so we can talk?” I asked, raising my voice above her sobs.