The Good Daughter (The Good Daughter #1) - Karin Slaughter Page 0,119

yesterday is between you and me. Okay?”

She sniffed again. “Okay.”

“Blow your nose.” She waited for Kelly to do as she was told, then said, “Tell me about Adam Humphrey. Did you meet him in school?”

Kelly shook her head. Sam could still not see her face. All she saw was the top of her head.

Sam asked, “Did you meet Adam when you were out? For instance, at a movie or at church?”

Kelly shook her head again.

“Tell me about the yearbook in your closet.”

Kelly quickly looked up. Sam expected to see anger, but she saw fear. “Please don’t tell nobody.”

“I won’t,” Sam promised. “Remember, everything here is confidential.”

Kelly kept the tissue in her hand as she wiped her nose with her sleeve.

Sam asked, “Can you tell me why people wrote those things about you?”

“They were bad things.”

“I don’t think the acts they were describing were bad. I think that the people who wrote those things were being unkind.”

Kelly appeared baffled. Sam couldn’t fault her. This was no time to lecture an eighteen-year-old spree killer on feminism.

She asked Kelly, “Why did they write those things about you?”

“I don’t know, ma’am. You’d have to ask them.”

“Were some of the things they said true?”

Kelly looked back down at the table. “Not like how they said, but maybe something similar.”

Sam wondered at the turn of phrase. The girl was not so slow that she couldn’t obfuscate. “Were you angry because they were picking on you?”

“No,” she said. “I was hurt mostly, because them’s private things and I didn’t know most of them people. But I guess it was a long time ago. A lot of ’em could of graduated already.”

“Has your mother seen the yearbook?”

Kelly’s eyes went wide. This time, she looked scared. “Please don’t show my mama.”

“I won’t,” Sam promised. “Remember how I told you that anything you tell me will remain confidential?”

“No.”

Sam felt a prick in her left eyebrow. “When I first walked into the room, I explained to you who I am, and that I work with my father, and that we have both taken an oath of confidentiality.”

“No, ma’am, I don’t remember that last part.”

“Confidentiality means that I have to keep your secrets.”

“Oh, well, okay, that’s what your daddy said, too, about secrets.”

Sam looked at the time. She had less than four minutes. “Kelly, I was told that yesterday morning, right after the shooting took place, when Mr. Huckabee was asking you to relinquish the revolver, you said something that Mr. Huckabee and perhaps a police officer heard. Do you remember what you said?”

“No, ma’am. I didn’t much feel like talking after all that.”

“You said something.” Sam tried again, “The officer heard you. Mr. Huckabee heard you.”

“Okay.” Kelly nodded slowly. “I did say something.”

Sam was surprised by how quickly the girl had changed her story. “Do you remember what you said?”

“I don’t know. I don’t remember saying it.”

Sam felt Kelly’s eagerness to please pushing out into the space between them. She tried approaching the question from a different angle, asking, “Kelly, in the hallway yesterday morning, did you tell Mr. Huckabee and the police officer that the lockers are blue?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Kelly latched onto the suggestion. “They are blue.”

Sam started nodding her head. “I know they’re blue. But is that what you said at that point? Did you actually say that to them, that the lockers are blue? Is that what you told Mr. Huckabee and the policeman? That the lockers are blue?”

Kelly began nodding along. “Yes, I said that.”

Sam knew the girl was lying. At that moment in time yesterday morning, Kelly Wilson had just shot and killed two people. Her former teacher was asking her to hand over the murder weapon. A policeman was undoubtedly pointing a gun at her head. Kelly had not stopped to note the school décor.

Sam asked, “You remember telling both of them that the lockers are blue?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Kelly seemed so certain of the answer that she likely would have passed a lie-detector exam.

“Okay, so Mr. Huckabee was there,” Sam said, wondering how far she could push the girl. “Mrs. Pinkman was there, too. Was anyone else there? Someone you didn’t recognize?”

“There was a woman in a devil shirt.” She indicated her chest. “The devil was wearing a blue mask, and it said the word ‘Devils’ on it.”

Sam could still remember packing Charlie’s things after her disastrous New York visit. Every T-shirt Charlie owned had some variation of the Duke Blue Devils logo.

Sam asked Kelly, “The woman in the Devils shirt. Did she hurt anybody?”

“No,