‘Yes, she did, but to make a long story short, she’s gone missing.’
‘Oh, I’m so sorry to hear that.’ Genevieve frowned. ‘She’s a nice girl.’
‘Thank you,’ Maggie said, touched. ‘This is going to sound strange, but did you happen to know a student who looked like her? A lot like her?’
‘No.’
‘We’re also trying to find somebody who knew her friends Jamie Covington, PG, and Connie.’
‘I knew Jamie. She left school last year.’
‘Right. Have you heard from her since then?’
‘No, but we weren’t that friendly.’
‘Do you know a PG or Connie?’
‘No, what’s their last names?’
‘We don’t know.’
‘Were they seniors?’
‘We don’t know.’ Maggie had an idea. ‘Do you happen to have a yearbook?’
‘Sure, come with me.’
Chapter Seventy-one
Noah, After
‘I didn’t let anybody die.’ Noah rose, and two COs flanked Drover and lifted him bodily off the bench.
‘Let’s go, Mr Drover.’ The COs hustled Drover from the cafeteria, and a third CO walked around the table to Noah and motioned him upward.
‘Dr Alderman, come on. Leave the tray.’ The CO motioned Noah up, and he went without complaint. He’d be safer in a cell anyway.
‘Can I go back to my cell?’
‘No. They’re still working on it.’
Noah swallowed hard. They’d told him last night that his cell would have to be examined and photographed for evidence, since it had become a crime scene.
The CO led him toward the cafeteria exit. ‘This way.’
‘So where am I going?’
‘Block time. You don’t have a job yet.’
Noah flashed back on his old life, when he’d travel for a conference but his hotel room wouldn’t be ready. He used to be so annoyed, back then. He’d make a fuss at the reception desk. He couldn’t believe that it had taken prison to make him realize that he’d been a bit of a jerk.
The CO led him to the left, down an empty hallway. Drover and the other COs were nowhere in sight.
‘So John Drover knows Jeremy Black?’
‘Yes.’ The CO faced front, walking beside him.
‘Are they in the same gang or something?’
‘You doing a documentary?’
Noah let it go. ‘Which cellblock is Drover in?’
‘C,’ the CO answered.
‘But I’m in C.’
‘Oops,’ the CO said, walking.
Chapter Seventy-two
Maggie, After
Maggie, Kathy, and Caleb knocked on the door to Steingard House, which had a small window of frosted glass. A light was on inside, which cheered Maggie, who was trying to stay positive. They had searched the Congreve yearbooks and hadn’t seen any Connies or PGs, though there had been photos of Jamie, and more importantly, of Anna. Maggie had taken pictures of Anna’s photos with her phone, and it had helped her explain what was going on to Caleb.
‘Here comes somebody.’ Maggie straightened up as a shadowy figure grew closer on the other side of the frosted glass, and the door was answered by a tall, slim student who had her blond hair piled in a twist. She had a long face, prominent cheekbones, and wore an oversized Harvard sweatshirt with black leggings and black Dr Martens.
‘Hello, can I help you? I’m Mercer Cooperman, one of the editors on The Zephyr.’
‘Yes, thanks.’ Maggie introduced herself, Caleb, and Kathy. ‘I’m Anna Desroches’s mother, and she was a student here until last year. I’m afraid she’s gone missing. We’ve spoken with Morris Whitaker, and they’re dealing with the police, but we want to ask a few questions too, on our own.’
Kathy interjected, ‘It’s a mom thing.’
‘I get it. My mom would too. Come on in. I’ve just put the Winter Issue to bed. It was supposed to be published before Thanksgiving, but poets don’t follow deadlines.’ Mercer opened the door, admitting them to a funky entrance hall with a pair of lime-green-velvet armchairs, next to a wood coffee table piled with books.
‘Thanks so much. Are you a senior, Mercer? Did you know Anna?’
Mercer shut the door. ‘Yes, I met her once or twice. I’m so sorry she’s gone missing.’
‘You met her?’ Maggie asked, encouraged. ‘Here or at Parker? Or in classes?’
‘I think I had French Lit with her, but mostly, she’d stop by the office with Jamie Covington.’
‘Yes, they were friends.’ Maggie felt like they were onto something. ‘Did you know Jamie?’
‘Not well, she was kind of a loner. Is she coming back to school?’
‘I don’t know. Do you know where she went?’
‘No, I just heard she dropped out of school.’ Mercer puckered her lower lip. ‘She was so talented.’
‘Do you know PG or Connie, who were friends of Jamie’s and Anna’s?’
‘Hmm, not Connie, but PG sounds familiar.’ Mercer frowned in thought. ‘Oh wait, I remember PG. She was a friend of Jamie’s. She called herself PG for Ponygirl, after Ponyboy.’
‘Who’s Ponyboy?’
‘Ponyboy from The Outsiders? The novel? We read it in middle school.’
Kathy interjected, ‘I know that book. My sons read it in Language Arts. Ponyboy is the hero. He’s the poor kid in the town, one of the Greasers, and the rich kids are called the Socs.’
Caleb looked up. ‘ “Stay gold, Ponyboy.” ’
‘Right!’ Mercer grinned down at him. ‘That’s from the book.’
‘Good for you, honey.’ Maggie hugged Caleb to her side. ‘Mercer, are you saying you remember PG? Did you meet her?’
‘No, she didn’t go here, but I remember Jamie talking about her because of the Ponygirl story.’
‘Do you know where PG is? Where did she go to school?’
‘I assume she went to public school, Congreve High. She was a waitress at Eddie’s. I think that’s where Jamie met her. Jamie liked to eat there to get off campus, but it’s bad food. Everything’s fried.’
‘Is Eddie’s in town?’ Maggie felt her heart start to pound.
‘No, it’s in Tipton, one town north. It’s Eddie’s Diner, like a truck stop but nicer.’
‘How long does it take to get there?’
‘Twenty minutes in nice weather, but in this snow, an hour. Mainers will tell you a place is “just down the road.” But that means, like, hours.’
‘We’d better go. Thank you so much.’ Maggie reached for the doorknob. ‘You’ve been so helpful.’
‘Yes, thanks,’ Kathy said, right behind her.
‘We got a break!’ Maggie started the engine, excited.
‘We sure did!’ Kathy rubbed her hands together.
‘Stay gold,’ Caleb said again. ‘She was nice. And pretty.’
‘Yes she was.’ Maggie pulled away from Steingard House and steered to the exit gate. The campus seemed completely deserted, and nobody was around snowplowing or shoveling at this hour. They drove past the Administration Rotunda, now darkened. ‘I wonder if Whitaker even called Chief Vogel.’
‘Me, too.’
‘Only one way to find out. Would you mind looking up the number of the Congreve Police Department for me, and I’ll call?’
‘Not at all.’ Kathy retrieved Maggie’s phone, scrolled to the Internet, and found the number. ‘Here.’
‘Thanks.’ Maggie accepted the phone and pressed Call. The call rang and rang, then was answered.
‘Congreve Police,’ a woman said. ‘How may I assist you?’
‘Hi, I’m Maggie Ippoliti and I’m the mother of a girl named Anna Desroches, a seventeen-year-old student at the Congreve School who went missing last April. I believe that Chief Vogel has been in touch with Morris Whitaker about it today. May I speak with Chief Vogel? It’s important.’
‘He’s out right now. I’m just taking the phones on account of the storm. I’m not a patrol officer.’
‘Does he have a deputy or someone I can speak to?’
‘He’s out too, sorry. They all are. There’s only three patrol officers, and one part-timer we share.’
‘May I have Chief Vogel’s cell-phone number?’
‘I’m sorry, I don’t have that information. You can look him up if you want to. He’s in the book.’
Maggie looked over to see Kathy already scrolling through her phone for Chief Vogel’s home number. ‘Do you happen to know if he filed a missing persons report for my daughter with the town or the state police?’