and jogged over to grab the ball and send it back into play. Katie watched her with a strange mixture of affection and dread—the affection was for the girl; the dread was for herself. Dread that she wouldn’t do what everyone expected from her—that she wouldn’t be able to find the girls, or save them. It was a dread she always felt, every time, and she mastered it with a few moments of concentration. Focus on the facts, Katie. Facts and procedure were what got you through the tough emotional moments in a job like this. And she had no doubt that there would be a tough emotional moment coming soon; the women she was about to sit down with were formidable, to say the least, and it was entirely possible that she was going to have to suggest—maybe more than suggest—that someone they knew and most likely trusted was involved in the abduction of two students.
She delayed for only a minute or so, thinking over what she would say, and how, and then stepped out into the cool, thin air.
And into memories.
The steps. She remembered walking up these steps so many times, sometimes trudging in exhaustion, sometimes skipping up so lightly it felt as though she floated on air. Around her, the girls of her group—the Graces—had chatted and quarreled and generally acted like the closest of sisters. Which they’d been, and still were, although the relationships had matured along with their ages. All Athena Academy graduates were siblings, in a sense; some were just closer than others.
Some were closer than family.
As she entered the open front door, she saw a tall, straight-backed figure standing on the stairs with one elegant hand on the railing. The lights in the foyer were dimmed, but still bright enough to show Katie the grave, composed expression on Rebecca Claussen’s face. Rebecca still looked just the same to Katie’s eyes; maybe a bit more gray in the shoulder-length hair, a few more lines at the corners of her eyes. But a welcoming smile and an extended hand, nonetheless. “Katie,” she said. “Thank you for coming. I know this wasn’t easy for you, to drop everything and rush to our aid.”
It wasn’t anything more than any other Athena graduate would have done, Katie was tempted to say, but she only nodded and shook the strong, dry hand, then followed Rebecca up the wide, sweeping staircase to the second floor.
“Are their parents here?” Katie asked. Rebecca glanced over her shoulder at her and nodded. “May I speak with them?”
“Of course. But I don’t think you’ll find many leads there—Teal and Lena were exemplary students, and they had permission to leave campus.”
“Permission? So someone knew where they were going?”
“We log in destinations for any student who leaves the campus grounds, Katie. Here. We’ll discuss this in private.” Rebecca swung open a set of double doors and revealed her office, a Spartan kind of place with a few mementos and photographs of her husband. He’d died, Katie remembered, about eight years ago. Rebecca still wore the wedding ring. “Please, have a seat.” She closed the doors after Katie and, instead of taking the chair behind the large wooden desk, pulled up a smaller visitor’s chair to sit almost knee to knee with Katie.
“Where were they going? According to the official record?” Katie asked.
Rebecca’s dark eyebrows rose. “Official record? Why would there be any discrepancy?”
“Because they’re teenage girls, and I have an idea from Jazz Ryan that they weren’t exactly lying, but they weren’t telling the whole truth, either. May I see the records?”
Rebecca reached for a folder on her desk and flipped it open before handing it over. Katie scanned it quickly. It was a simple log of students, time and date out, destination, time and date back in. Completely routine. Teal and Lena had signed out together, and Jazz had signed out just afterward, which supported Jazz’s statement that she’d tagged along without an invitation. Destination for Teal and Lena was listed as “movies,” and the address of the mall theater in Glendale. Jazz had copied the same information.
Katie handed it back and said, “Jazz told me that they were planning on going to the movies, but they had something else to do first. Has anybody made any reference to it? Any student?”
“No, Katie. We would have informed the police immediately if we’d had any additional information. All we know is that the girls left campus and didn’t return.” Rebecca’s hazel eyes assessed her coolly. She was a tough woman, and she’d always been able to at least appear to see a student’s innermost secrets with a single glance. But Katie wasn’t a student anymore, and she held the stare without flinching. “You think there’s some kind of information here at the school. Some lead.”
Katie didn’t deny it. “I’d like to speak with their parents, and then with the girls in Lena and Teal’s group. If anybody here knows, they would.” Both of them knew how close the bonds were within those groups, assigned during the girls’ first year. “Can you make them available for interviews?”
“So long as either Ms. Evans or I can be present during the conversations.”
“Of course.” She’d rather not, actually, but it seemed unlikely she’d get that much cooperation. The women in charge of Athena Academy were protective of their students. “How many are available tonight?”
“All of them. Naturally, we understand the urgency and time pressures you face. We’ve already gathered the girls. Do you want to speak with them individually?”
“Together first,” she said. In her experience, adults weren’t great at hiding things from authority figures, but kids were even worse.
And she needed to save time. Individual interviews would take too long.
Rebecca nodded. “If you’ll wait here a moment, I’ll get the girls together in a common area.” She moved quickly, with confidence, and Katie was left alone in her office. She rose and paced restlessly, thinking through what was coming and trying not to think about what might be happening to the missing girls.
“Katie.”
A voice behind her. She turned, hands clasped behind her back, and saw Christine Evans standing in the doorway. Christine was a striking figure, just as Katie remembered her—maybe a little more silver in the short gray hair, but it didn’t so much soften her as add another touch of metal. Christine was solid. Katie was an active woman, fit as an FBI agent generally had to be, but Christine had always looked exactly like what she was: a war veteran. Tough, competent and perfectly capable of sending a drill sergeant in full retreat when she cared to do so.
“Ms. Evans,” Katie said, and then corrected herself before she could be reminded. “Christine.”
“I’m so glad you were brought into this. I can’t think of anyone I’d rather have looking for the girls.” Christine crossed the room toward her, and if Katie hadn’t been well aware that she was blind in her left eye—had been since anyone Katie’s age knew her—she’d never have suspected that the slight gesture of Christine’s left hand at her side was designed to warn her of any obstacles in her path. Christine offered her hand—a large, square, capable hand, with meticulously clean French manicured fingernails—and Katie shook it. She knew she had a strong grip, but Christine’s was always an order of magnitude greater—not out of any desire to intimidate, just because that was Christine’s level.
Katie couldn’t forget how things had been when Marion Gracelyn, the founder of Athena Academy, had met her death. Things could have so easily fallen apart. It had taken a strong personality to step into that hurricane and make order
