AMANDA
WEDNESDAY, JANUARY 17
When school lets out, I drive straight to the station. I should go to Mercy, but I’m still not ready to see Carter. I can’t talk to him, not alone, not face to face, until I figure out exactly what to say. I send him a bunch of texts instead, and he doesn’t seem too hurt that I haven’t been there since Monday. He says he’s mostly sleeping and watching old movies.
I park in the station lot and try not to lose my nerve. My mother is going to be furious, but if I’m right about this, I can bring the police right to Private. Which I’m sure I am. Almost.
Inside, there’s a glass vase of half-wilted flowers on the Formica countertop that separates the entryway from the rest of the station, but no one’s waiting to receive walk-ins. I’ve been standing aimlessly for a few seconds when a records clerk looks up from the file cabinets in back.
I explain that I have some evidence in the Carter Shaw hit-and-run and ask to see an officer working on the case. A few minutes later, I’m following Officer Cynthia Lu down a hallway into a small room with a desk and a wall of filing cabinets. It’s just a regular office, not an interview room like on TV. She ducks outside to grab a metal folding chair from the hallway so I have somewhere to sit. The office is so cramped, there’s barely room for me on the other side of her desk. I sit, knees pressed uncomfortably against the metal.
“Amanda Kelly,” she says. “You’re Carter Shaw’s girlfriend?”
I nod. Officer Lu is a small woman with straight black hair pulled back into a clip. She’s pretty, and she knows how to do her makeup to bring out her dark eyes and high cheekbones. She’s definitely not the gruff, donut-eating, coffee-swilling cop I thought I’d be talking to. I try to relax. She seems nice, like she’ll listen to me.
I draw in a deep breath. I’m really going to do this. My mother’s face flashes before me, her eyes narrowing to slits. The Kellys cannot afford to be the family who cried wolf. But then I think of Carter, a sitting duck in his hospital bed. I can’t afford to let this go any further.
“I’m here because I have some evidence in the hit-and-run. I mean, it could be evidence, and I wanted to turn it in.” I open my bag and pull out everything I’ve collected: a handful of Trina’s photo prints, the florist card, the teddy bear, and my phone.
Officer Lu stares at the objects on her desk for a minute without touching them. “Amanda, how old are you?”
“Do you have a parent with you today?”
“No.”
“Okay. Or a lawyer?”
I shake my head. “I’m not in trouble, am I?”
“Of course not. But, Amanda, you’re a minor. Are you sure you don’t want one of your parents present when we talk?”
“I’m sure.” I swallow. “I just want to tell you what I know.”
She leans back in her chair. “Okay, go ahead.”
I start at the beginning, with the texts. I pull them up on my phone, showing her the entire conversation with Private. I tell her about my locker, show her the photos still up on Instagram and the florist card with its cryptic message. I show her the photos of Rosalie kissing that other girl, and then the photo prints from the rock garden. I tell her about getting locked in at the track. Finally, I tell her about the teddy bear in Carter’s backpack on the night of the accident, how Carter had no recollection of buying it or how it got there. I show her the CVS sticker on the tag and the photo I took of the clearance bin yesterday. I point to the headless bear in the locker photos, show her it’s the same one.
Officer Lu listens quietly as I speak. She nods in the right places, but doesn’t ask any questions. Finally, I show her the last messages from Private, the group conversation with Rosalie on Monday night.
“He sent this just hours after the accident. He’s claiming responsibility for hitting Carter.”
“And you don’t have any idea who is sending these messages, Amanda?” Officer Lu asks. “Think carefully. It could really help us.”
“At first, I thought it was Rosalie. But it’s not; he went after her too.”
“You keep saying ‘he.’ You’re certain this is a man?”
“I think so? I don’t know. It just seems like it is.”
“I see.” Officer Lu folds her hands together on top of her desk. Her nails are painted with a faint rose polish, and the tip of the nail on one index finger is chipped. “Any ideas, other than Rosalie? Maybe someone at school?”
“I don’t know.” My heart starts beating fast. It didn’t occur to me that she’d ask so many questions. “Can’t you trace the texts? Like with police software? That would be the fastest way, right? Then you’d know for sure who was doing this.”
“We’ll certainly look into identifying the number, Amanda, but text messages sent from numbers with blocked caller IDs are difficult to track down. The texter could be using a disposable prepaid phone.”
“You mean a burner?”
“That’s right. If the messages are being sent from a burner phone, we may be able to identify the number, but it’s very difficult to connect disposable phones to their owners. Our best source of information here is you. Now can you think of anyone who might want to hurt Carter? Or damage his relationship with you, or this other girl, Rosalie?”
My heart is beating even faster now. I’m drawing a complete blank. I thought this would be simple. I’d tell them what I know and hand over my phone. They’d plug it into whatever police tracking software they use, and presto. Private would be revealed.
“Lots of girls would like to see Carter single,” I manage. “But why would they hit him with a car?”
“Is there anyone at school who has a history with Carter? A fight, maybe. A disagreement. Something about Carter they didn’t like.”
“Everyone loves Carter. You have to understand, he’s a really nice person. We have a close group of friends, but then he’s friendly with everyone in our grade. The underclassmen look up to him. He’s not just ‘popular’ in that fake way people mean. With Carter, it’s real.” It’s true; no one would want to hurt Carter.
Officer Lu frowns. “Sometimes popularity breeds jealousy, Amanda.” She sounds like my mother. “I want you to keep thinking, okay?”
I nod.
“And what about his family? They work in real estate, correct?”
“Shaw Realty.”
“Do you know Carter’s father well?”
“Winston? He’s practically my father-in-law. We’ve lived across the street from the Shaws since second grade.”
“That’s very helpful, Amanda. So your parents are close with the Shaws, I gather?”
A growing clang of alarm bells starts to echo in my brain. This is exactly what my mother was afraid of: scandal.
“Amanda?” she asks again. I have to answer the question.
“We’re neighbors.”
She nods, pen flying across paper. “Does Mr. Shaw have any enemies that you’re aware of?”
“Enemies?”
“Do you know of anyone who has a bad relationship with Shaw Realty? A competing firm, perhaps? Anyone who might be a business rival?”
“You think someone hit Carter to get back at his dad?”
“I’m just asking questions, Amanda.”
“But that’s what you’re implying, right? That someone could be targeting Carter to get at the business?”
“It’s possible. The hit-and-run may have been an accident. Driver lost control of the vehicle in the storm, got scared, drove off. Now that Carter’s condition has been released to the media, and it’s public knowledge that he will recover, we’ve been hoping someone will come forward to accept responsibility. But what you’ve shared with me today may change the nature of our investigation. We have to explore all the possibilities.”
Cold, heavy dread pools in my gut. Carter’s parents will be questioned. My parents will probably be questioned too. My mother was right; I shouldn’t have come here. This doesn’t have anything to do with our parents—I’m sure of it.
I smile politely at Officer Lu. “Of course you have to explore the possibilities. But none of Mr. Shaw’s business colleagues care who Carter dates. I’m certain this has nothing to do with Shaw Realty. The person you really need to talk to is the manager at CVS. You need to figure out who purchased these teddy bears. I know it sounds silly, but that’s your suspect pool.”
“Mmm.” Officer Lu clasps and unclasps her hands. “We’ll take that under advisement. Thank you, Amanda.”
She’s not going to do it. I’m handing her the key to solving this thing, but she has it in her head that this is some sort of business revenge plot. That the adults are the ones she needs to interrogate. I try to push my chair back, but it’s pressed tight against the file cabinet behind me. I stand up awkwardly and squeeze out.
“Amanda, if you think of anyone or anything else, please be in touch. Here’s my direct number.” She hands me a business card from a little black holder on her desk. “I’m afraid we’ll need to keep your phone, at least until we’ve concluded our investigation. Would you please write down the password if you have one?”
She hands me another business card, this one flipped over so the blank side is facing up. I jot it down.
“So you’ll still try to identify the number?”
“Of course. We’re going to do everything we can to find the driver, Amanda. And that includes studying the digital evidence.”
I feel a tiny bit reassured. I know it’s a long shot, but maybe Private wasn’t using a burner. Maybe they’ll be able to track him down through the texts after all. Officer Lu studies me closely. Her eyebrows are drawn in, her lips pressed tight. I can tell she’s unsure how seriously to take all this. How seriously to take me. Teddy bears, text messages, high school pranks. I know how it sounds. Like kid stuff.
“And CVS?” I ask again. “The manager’s name is Fred.”
“We’ll be exploring all potential leads.” Officer Lu extends her hand toward me. “Thank you for coming in today.”
I take her hand and give it a quick shake. If the texts don’t lead the police to Private, all I’ve accomplished today is causing a scandal. Just like my mother warned.
• • •
Instead of going straight home, I drive around Logansville for a while, trying to think. The only thing that really sparked Officer Lu’s interest was the possible tie to Shaw Realty. My chest gets tighter and tighter, and finally I have to drive home. By the time I’m pulling into the driveway and waiting for the garage door to open, I’m barely breathing.
My mother is on me before I reach the top of the basement stairs.
“Amanda Kelly. Get in here.”
Officer Lu didn’t waste any time. I want to bite back, tell her I know what I’m doing, but that’s not even close to the truth. I thought I knew what I was doing, going to the police. Her face tells me I screwed up, big time.
I unzip my coat and take a seat at the breakfast table. My mother stands at the island, a tall glass in her hand. It’s not even dinnertime, but something tells me the clear liquid she’s tilting toward her lips isn’t water. She doesn’t join me at the table.
“I received a very unsettling call just now. Do you know who it might have been from?”
“Officer Lu?” My voice is barely a whisper.
“Speak up, Amanda.”
“Officer Lu? From the station?”
My mother’s lips are twisted into an ugly pink knot. She raises her glass and takes a long drink. I wince, hoping she doesn’t notice. If she senses I’m judging her on top of everything else, it’ll really send her over the edge.
Fortunately, she’s too focused on her anger, and possibly a little too drunk, to notice or care. “That’s right, Amanda. Officer Cynthia Lu. She told me that you came by the station, that you two had quite the tête-à-tête. I apologized profusely and told her your father and I were handling things.”
A spike of anger flares in my chest. I feel bad about going to the police, about dragging my parents into this mess. But her words just confirm how seriously they are not taking me.
“How are you and Dad handling things?” I ask, my voice a bit too loud. I suck in a shaky breath, try to get myself under control. “I’m sorry about Officer Lu, I really am. I didn’t know she’d get you and Dad involved. But can’t you see that I’m scared?”
My voice breaks, the anger turning to hysteria. I’m actually shaking, tugged in a million directions. I’m angry at myself for thinking things would be easy once I went to the cops, for being naive. I’m angry at my mother for making my fear seem trivial, making it crystal clear my safety isn’t her primary concern. And most of all, I’m scared. This has gone from creepy to violent, and Private is still out there.
My mother sets her glass down on the island with a sharp clink. “Is that what you think, Amanda? That your father and I are not concerned for the safety and security of this family, above all else?”
If she loved me, she would wrap her arms around me tight. If she really cared, she would see how bad I’m shaking, and she would want to stop it, make it all better. She doesn’t move.
“Your father has been on the phone with Jackson several times since last night.” For a moment I can’t place the name, and then I remember he’s the lawyer we have on retainer. “He’s referred us to a very reputable PI, who we’ve hired, but with your phone locked up in evidence, I don’t know what good that’s going to do us now.”
“A private investigator?”
“Someone to handle this quietly. Without the police rifling through our personal lives. You seem to have forgotten that’s a priority. I told your Officer Lu that you were unstable, that this isn’t the first time you’ve dreamed up a stalker. I assured her you were receiving the best treatment possible, and that we’d be involving your doctor immediately. I was very apologetic, and I think I’ve managed to undo most of the damage you’ve done.”
“You told her what?” My mother’s words strike like a punch to the gut. Tears spring to my eyes as if I’ve been physically hit. It feels that bad. I think about all the little lies and deceptions she lives by so she can keep being Linda Kelly. So we can keep being the Logansville Kellys. Fraud alerts and new credit lines and the incessant push and pull with my dad and fantasy trips to Turks and Caicos we could never really afford. The endless alcoholic haze. The fact that we’re the only three people who know how deep our debt really runs.
It’s because of her—not me—that we’re on the verge of falling apart.
“Thank goodness I was able to think on my feet, and that she called me first, before involving the Shaws. I am acting in your best interests and the best interests of this entire family, and Carter’s. This is an especially difficult time for them. The last thing Krystal and Winston need is the police on their doorstep, digging around in their business affairs.”
I suck in a quick breath and wipe at my eyes. My hand comes away wet as my mind whirls back to dinner with Carter at Verde. I picture Mr. Gallagher carrying pizza out to his car. Carter said Carl and Winston hadn’t spoken for years. I try to picture Ben’s dad in his work boots and black jacket typing anonymous texts into his phone. No way.
“You’re right,” I say slowly. “I’m sorry. When I went to the station, I thought they’d have tracking software. Something they could use to identify the person who’s been texting me. I didn’t think they’d ask so many questions.”
My mother grimaces and picks up her glass. She drains it in one long slug. “That’s right, you didn’t think. Thankfully, after my damage control, the police have agreed not to pursue this line of inquiry any further, for the sake of your mental health.” She turns toward the sink, stumbling slightly against the counter. Once she’s straightened up and placed her glass down, she turns around to face me.
“Amanda, we are concerned for your safety, but as we discussed yesterday, this texter of yours is an opportunist. Someone who saw Carter’s name on the news and jumped to take responsibility for a car accident in the middle of a snowstorm, which thankfully wasn’t any worse than it was.”
I sink into my chair. I feel like a child. When she puts it that way, she sounds totally sane. And I sound like the delusional one.
“I assured Officer Lu that we’re doing everything in our power to look after your health and well-being,” she continues.
“Are they going to use the tracking software?”
“I don’t know, Amanda.” She sighs. “She didn’t go into detail. I couldn’t exactly tell her to pursue certain leads but not others.”
“And we can’t get the phone back? To have the PI do it?”
“I’m going to keep trying, but they’re refusing to release it.” She pauses for a moment. “I assume you did not have the foresight to erase your call record before turning it in.”
“Call record?”
“My call to the Beaufords on Monday night. And then Winston’s call while I was still on the line with Jacques. It doesn’t look right.”
I look at her blankly. “You were on the phone about the benefit. And then Winston called to tell us Carter was at Mercy. There’s nothing suspicious about that.”
My mother sighs. “Never mind. My work for the museum is private, that’s all. If you’d have just listened to me yesterday, our family would not be in this predicament.”
“I know.” My voice is small. I should have trusted my mother to begin with. Instead, I went and did exactly what she told me not to do. Now the police won’t bother us, but they won’t try to identify Private either. The cold dread from earlier spreads from my gut through my entire body. How could I have known she really was handling things? Hiring a PI never occurred to me. I screwed up, but she could have told me. She’s not entirely blameless here.
Suddenly, it hits me. There’s still a way out.
“I’m going to fix this. I promise.”
“No.” My mother’s voice is icy and thick with alcohol. “You’ve done enough. No more meddling. From this point forward, we work with Nathaniel. Everything goes through him. Clear?”
She doesn’t explain who Nathaniel is, or wait for an answer. She disappears into my dad’s office, then returns with a sticky note listing a phone number and email address for an N.Krausse@Krausseservices.com. He must be the PI. Fine, that’s exactly the kind of meddling I had in mind. If the police aren’t going to track down Private, I’ll get Rosalie’s phone to PI Krausse so he can do it.
I fold the sticky and slip it into my pocket. “We’re clear.”
My mother softens, face smoothing out into her usual composed mask. She returns to the sink and rinses out her glass, then reaches into the freezer for the vodka. That’s my cue to head upstairs.
When I get to my room, I reach for my phone, but then I remember. No phone. Instead, I open my laptop and compose a new email.
Subject: Need to meet
From: me
To: Rosalie Bell
Things have changed, we need to meet. Come to my place on Friday at 6, and bring your phone. Don’t delete anything from Private. Very important.
I assume you know where I live. House directly across from the Shaws’. Phone’s out of commission, so email me to confirm.
—AK
I hit send. There are seven days until Carter’s birthday. I have seven days to figure this out, and Rosalie is my last resort.