Chapter Forty-Eight

CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

PAULA HUGS HER daughter while she cries. Then, she listens, trying not to let her face reflect her dismay at what she's hearing. It all tumbles out. Sadie Kelly has been making her daughter's life hell. Mocking her. Singling her out and making fun of her at school and online. Turning her friends against her.

‘Why would she do that?' Paula asks.

‘Because she can,' Taylor answers with a sniffle. ‘She always has someone she's picking on, and lately it's been me. No one stands up to her.'

‘Why didn't you tell me?'

‘Because she said if I complained about it she would get you fired, because her dad is the principal.'

‘Oh, honey, I wish you'd told me. She can't get me fired.' Paula's always known Sadie is a handful, but she didn't know she's a bully. The fact that she's been picking on her daughter and using her own job there as leverage – she's almost speechless with anger. How can she do such a thing? How does she get away with it? Why do the other girls follow her lead? What's wrong with these kids?

‘There's something else I didn't tell you,' Taylor says. ‘About Mr Turner.'

Paula's stomach takes a turn. She'd already asked her daughter before about Turner and been reassured. She'd believed this offensive behaviour of Turner's was something confined to Diana, and then this other girl. ‘What?'

‘Sometimes, when no one else could see, he would stare at me, at my chest.' She flushes pink. ‘I didn't like it.' She adds, more firmly, ‘He knew I didn't like it, but he just smiled and did it anyway.'

‘Why didn't you tell me this before, when I asked you?'

‘I'm sorry I didn't tell you – but it's embarrassing.' She adds uncertainly, ‘He never actually touched me, so I wasn't sure if I should say anything.'

‘Oh honey! I'm so glad you've told me now.'

She should have insisted that something be done about Turner the first time Kelly told her about it. It's not her daughter's fault that she didn't have the confidence to go to the principal, or to her. She's only thirteen. She should have been protected from this sort of thing. They have all failed her. All she can do is hold her daughter, comfort her, and say, ‘The police know about him now. You don't need to worry about him any more. He's been suspended from work, and I don't think he'll ever be back.' She doesn't verbalize her growing fear that he might be a murderer. She cups her daughter's tear-stained face in her hands. ‘I'm so glad you told me all this, Taylor. You shouldn't have to deal with any of this on your own. Him, or Sadie either.'

‘Will I have to go to the police,' Taylor asks anxiously, ‘like that other girl?'

‘Maybe. I think we probably should,' Paula says. ‘But you don't have to decide right now.'

It's late, almost eleven p.m., and I'm hovering in the interview room at the police station. They have brought Prior back in, and I'm watching him with equal parts revulsion and curiosity.

Detective Stone says, ‘Let's cut to the chase. This has happened to you before.'

‘I'm sorry?' Prior says.

I prick up my ears.

‘You've been questioned by police before, in connection with a missing girl. Katie Cantor.'

‘Who's that?' he says, but he looks uncomfortable, as if his casualness is forced.

‘You remember,' the detective says. ‘You must, because it's no fun being questioned by the police, being under suspicion for something like this – you've already told us you don't like it.' Stone is leaning toward him now. ‘Katie Cantor, sixteen years old, went missing in upstate New York, near Albany, approximately two years ago. A pretty girl, worked in a corner store. You used to bother her at work too. You were questioned and released. Maybe you haven't heard. They've found her body.'

I gaze down at Prior in horror.

The police keep hammering at him, but he doesn't crack. I wonder if he killed this other girl. That's what the detectives want to find out. I want to know too. Have there been more? Am I one of many? I feel for this girl, Katie Cantor. I wonder if she's around here somewhere, floating about, like me. I wonder if I can find her. Maybe we could be friends.

Now they are pushing him, hard. ‘You drive around in that truck of yours a lot. Why? What are you doing? Are you looking for girls? Is that what you were doing in Quebec? A little too hot at home right now, is it?' Detective Stone stares hard at Prior. ‘They have her body. And they may be able to get DNA evidence from it,' the detective says. ‘I guess you thought she'd never be found.'

Prior shakes his head. ‘I had nothing to do with that girl. Or with Diana Brewer. I want an attorney.'

‘Sure. Call an attorney. Two girls you chatted up are dead. You had Roddy lie to give you an alibi. We're going to hold you overnight. We'll question you again tomorrow, with your attorney.'

I watch him struggle when they take him down to the cells. And then I go home, to my mother.

I find her in the house, talking out loud to me, calling out to me across the rooms, the same way she used to when I was alive. It's like she's trying to pretend that nothing has changed. It makes me sad.

I think for a long time about Prior. He'd probably been in my car and knew where I lived. He'd chatted up two girls at retail stores – me and Katie Cantor – and we both ended up dead.

Tuesday, Oct. 25, 2022, 11:15 p.m.

I like to write at night when the house is completely quiet. Dad is dead to the world – he's usually had a few by bedtime. I'm the only light sleeper in this house. The smoke detector went off once in the middle of the night, and I'm the only one that got up. Mom takes sleeping pills and often sleeps in the guest room, away from Dad. She says it's because he snores, but I know she can't stand him. I wish she'd leave him. Maybe when I go off to university she will. I'll tell her she should.

These are strange, disorienting days. I'm feeling nostalgic, anxious. I miss Diana so much. I miss our old crowd, our old life.

Mrs Brewer acted odd today when Riley and I went to see her again after school. I can't quite put my finger on it, but she seemed to be not quite all there. Riley noticed it too. She seemed very distracted, but the funeral is tomorrow, and must be weighing on her.

I'm worried about Riley, too, about how she'll cope tomorrow. She's really anxious. And she has these bizarre ideas about Diana's spirit hanging around because she was murdered. I hope she doesn't go any farther down the crazy road. I know she's grieving. I know she's scared. That text from Diana's phone really upset her. I suppose lots of girls in Fairhill are feeling scared now. Diana was murdered, and taken from her home, in our sleepy little town.

Everyone is on edge.