not normally dangerous but caution should be used in handling . . . sublimates into carbon dioxide . . . must be used in ventilated spaces or else there is danger of hypercapnia, as carbon dioxide displaces oxygen, especially in low-lying structures such as basements, due to its weight. This can lead to unconsciousness and death, which can be rapid. . . .
Stevie swallowed hard.
The dry ice was in the workshop. Janelle’s pass was taken. Janelle’s pass opened the workshop.
She was supposed to go home. She’d already broken enough rules.
She should go back to Minerva.
So why was she turning away from Minerva and heading back toward the workshop area? Her pass wouldn’t let her in. What did she even think she would find? Her every instinct pressed her on, though.
“I’ll check the records,” she heard Larry say.
He and Detective Agiter were coming up behind her. Stevie had just enough time to duck behind a golf cart.
“You have times in and out?” the detective asked.
“Yeah, the system records both. Hang on.” Larry put his phone to his ear. “Jerry? I need you to pull up a record for me. The name is Janelle Franklin. I need to know the tags on her pass on Thursday evening.”
Stevie trailed behind them at a distance as they walked to the workshop. There was a pause as Larry got his own access card out and opened the door. Once they were inside, Stevie would lose track of this conversation, and losing track of this conversation seemed like a terrible idea.
That dreamlike feeling took over her again, and she found herself creeping low toward the door, catching it before it closed. She held it open with her finger to give them a chance to move farther into the room. She pushed it open a bit more and found that they were already on the other side of the room, looking at the blue dry-ice bin.
Was she doing this? She was doing this.
She pushed the door open farther and crept inside, moving behind a standing rack of yard implements.
“Jesus,” she heard Larry say, “this thing was full. How the hell . . . yeah, Jerry. Okay. Here we go. Into the art barn at sixteen fifty. Then nothing until one twelve the next morning. Taps in here to the workshop. Yeah.”
He tucked the phone away.
“So according to Stephanie Bell,” the detective said, “Janelle Franklin’s ID goes missing during a yoga class.”
“I’ll check that against her schedule, but they have yoga classes in the art barn. That checks out to me. So someone takes the pass . . .”
“And uses it to come in here at one in the morning. We’ll need to take it and print it. This adding up to you? He comes in here, takes . . .”
This was when Stevie’s phone started ringing.
Larry and the detective looked over at the same time.
There was no point in trying to stay concealed. Stevie stood up.
“Hey,” she said.
She took a moment and glanced at the phone.
The screen read: PARENTS.
19
IT WAS A SLIGHTLY LESS KINDLY LARRY WHO ESCORTED STEVIE AWAY from the workshop.
“I know,” she said, “I’m . . .”
“Listen, Stevie,” he said. “You’re a smart kid, and I like you. Let me just be clear. You need to do exactly what I say.”
“I know. I just . . .”
“No. You know. Say you know.”
“I know,” Stevie said. “But Janelle . . .”
“So now you’re going to stay here,” he said. “In the security office. And you’re not going to talk to anyone until I say so. Okay?”
Her phone started ringing again.
“Who is that?” he said.
She held it up. Again, it said: PARENTS. He indicated that she should answer and stared at her as she did so.
“Stevie!” Both her parents were on the line and it was impossible to tell who said her name first.
“The school just called us,” her mom said. “We’re coming to get you.”
Stevie dragged a hand over her face.
“I’m fine,” Stevie said.
“Stevie, someone died.”
“Yeah, I know,” Stevie said.
“So we’re coming up and you’re coming home,” her dad said.
“Look,” Stevie said, staring at the ground in panic. “It’s horrible, but . . . it could have happened anywhere.”
“No one died at your old school.”
“That’s not true,” Stevie said. “There was a car accident in—”
“Look,” her mom said. “Your dad and I are taking the day off and we’re coming to get you. It’s only been a few days. We can get you reregistered.”
This shouldn’t have been the moment Stevie started crying. She didn’t want this