was the last thing I remembered. I passed out, I guess.”
“When did you wake up again?”
“The next morning. I was in our bed—in Eddie’s room. He was already up. I showered and dressed. There were bruises on my upper arms and my torso. Obviously, there was a lot more that happened; I just can’t remember. When I found Eddie at breakfast, he said he was glad I was feeling better. Apparently, I told him I needed to go lie down at some point during the party. But I don’t remember telling him anything. I just remember the child and the old woman in the masks.”
“Did you ask Isabella about what happened?”
“I was careful not to say too much, but I did talk to her about the party. She wanted to know all about it. She didn’t seem to have any idea about the night’s events. She kept saying she wished she could have been there.”
“So, she was not the child in the mask.”
“I guess not. Maybe the whole thing was a hallucination.”
“So you never met this special guest who was supposed to be at the party.”
“No.”
“If these events were only hallucinations, what about the bruises?”
“I don’t know. Maybe those happened during sex that night. Later, Eddie mentioned that I went a little primal on him.”
“Were there other episodes of this sort after that night?”
“No. Not until . . . I became invisible.”
22
Thursday, April 15
7:45 a.m.
Brighton Academy
Seventh Avenue
Birmingham
“Mom, I don’t want you to walk me in.”
Judging by Tori’s mortified expression, one would think Kerri had suggested Tori strip off her clothes and run naked through the school.
“No hugging either.”
“Fine.” Kerri held up her hands. “I don’t want to embarrass you.” The teenage years, especially in the beginning, swung from one extreme to the other. The girl who wanted ice cream and cuddling last night wanted nothing to do with her mother this morning. One of her friends might see the potentially humiliating event.
But her daughter had come downstairs this morning, head held high, determined to go to school.
“See you later,” Tori mumbled.
“Love you,” Kerri said before her daughter could escape the Wagoneer.
“Love you,” Tori muttered before closing the door and rushing to join the other kids pouring into the front entrance of the school.
Kerri watched until Tori was inside. Her gut clenched. Tori seemed better this morning. More optimistic, particularly about her upcoming visit to New York. Kerri exhaled a breath chock full of anxiety. Was she doing enough to protect Tori? To solve this terrible case?
She stared at her cell phone lying on the seat next to her. Still no callback from Sue. She’d hoped to hear something by now, anyway. The idea that the anonymous girl didn’t want to talk was becoming more and more likely. Kerri felt sick. She needed the whole story on this Alice Cortez. The one that Sykes and Peterson would never know about otherwise.
“Damn it.” Kerri shifted into drive and prepared to merge into traffic. Since turning twelve, Tori had insisted her mom let her out at the sidewalk in front of the school. No public displays of affection and certainly no pulling into the car line to let her out nearer the building. But with all that had happened, Kerri had hoped to drop her off closer to the entrance. Mostly to avoid the huge display of pink flowers and teddy bears piled around the fountain in front of the school in memory of Brendal. Not that Kerri resented the display. Of course she didn’t. It was just so hard for Tori right now, and she wanted to do all in her power to protect her.
Kerri took a deep breath and prepared to ease into traffic. Before she could, a black Charger nudged up to the curb behind her. She looked from her rearview mirror to her side mirror, confusion lining her brow. The driver’s door of the Charger opened, and Falco emerged.
What was he doing here? They weren’t supposed to meet up until later.
Kerri kept her foot on the brake, expecting him to come to her window and give her whatever news wouldn’t wait. Possibly there had been a break in their case. When he’d called last night, he’d learned nothing from the final two names provided by Caldwell. He had managed to get a few minutes with Lucky Vandiver’s father, who claimed to be as lost as the rest of Kurtz’s friends about why he would have been murdered. He had no easily verifiable alibi for his whereabouts on Sunday night.