Page 24 of The Debutantes
“I didn’t realize,” Vivian says quietly.
April shrugs. “We didn’t really hang out at school, but we’d been friends for a while, Margot and me. Lily didn’t come into the picture until the summer before junior year.”
“After that Mississippi trip, right?” Vivian asks. “I knew they got close.”
Judging by the look on Vivian’s face, she wasn’t too happy about that.
April nods. “We all hung out that summer, but by the timethe school year started, we’d kind of… drifted apart, I guess.” She winds her camera strap around her fingers. “And then by December, Margot was…”
She trails off, the implication clear.
Finally, it hits me. April was Margot’s friend. For me and Vivian, Margot’s death was a school tragedy, but nothing more than that. For April, it was personal. I’ve never been good about grief—for someone whose dad is a psychiatrist, I’m not great atanyemotions, and that’s the most complicated of them all. There’s no solution, no easy fix, and so I try to focus on the task at hand.
“There wasn’t anything hidden behind the tile, was there?” I ask.
“No,” April says. “Maybe I read the message wrong. Or maybe she just didn’t leave anything here in the first place.”
There’s an edge to that second option, like April thinks that’s exactly something Lily would do.
My eyes track to the photos on the ground, and an idea starts to form.
“Or maybe ‘the Jester’ got to it first,” I say. “Maybe he beat us here, took whatever Lily left for us, and then…”
I notice the closet door, cracked slightly open. It was closed before, wasn’t it?
“He must’ve hidden in there when he heard us coming.”
“Shit,” Vivian says.
The invitation pulls my gaze.We all know how hard it is to keep a body underground in this city.That feeling creeps up on me, just like it did when we found Lily’s necklace in the Den. When I knew that something was definitely, distinctly wrong. But just as quickly, I snap myself out of it.
“We need to figure out what Lily left there for us,” I say.
Vivian frowns, like she’s thinking it over. “Could it have been something about Margot? I mean, that washerhiding spot, right?”
She glances at April, who has a distant look in her eyes. Again, I get the feeling there’s something she’s not saying. But she just shakes her head, like she’s not sure.
Well, I’m not waiting around.
“I’m calling Detective Rutherford,” I say, grabbing my phone.
“Wait,” Vivian starts. “I don’t think we should—”
“Someone followed us here and threatened us,” I tell her. “I don’t know about y’all, but this is the part of the teen TV thriller where I’m always screaming at the main characters to call an adult.”
This time, when I call him, no one stops me.
He picks up after two rings. “Hello?”
“Hi, Detective Rutherford? It’s Piper. We’re at the darkroom, and—” I pause, trying to shape my tone into calm and professional. “We found something.”
I put him on speaker and explain it all, from Margot’s empty hiding spot to the Jester and his message, as April and Vivian listen anxiously. When I’m done, I can feel a shift, even though the detective is silent.
“You’re safe?” he asks finally.
“Yes.”
“Good.”
