But first, she had to give this interview, to help Rose. The school’s security office had been commandeered by crime scene investigators, so Detective Howard was using a conference room in Founders’ Hall, the main administration building, to interview witnesses. Leaving the brightness of the Quad for the dim, dusty vestibule of Founders’, the detective explained that Sarah would be interviewed not only by her, but also her partner, a lieutenant from the state police.
“Odell PD is small and, I’ll be honest, this is my first homicide. We called in the staties for assistance. Lieutenant Kriscunas is an old-timer, knows the ropes. He can be a little brusque, maybe. Don’t take it personally.”
“Got it.”
Since classes had been canceled, the building, which normally would’ve been bustling with students, was quiet and echoing. Sarah followed the detective past the first floor, where classrooms were located, to the second. When they got to the landing, Detective Howard turned toward the headmaster’s office.
“Where exactly are we going?” Sarah asked, a nervous note creeping into her voice.
“Your husband hooked us up with the conference room next door to his office.”
“His office,” she repeated.
Sarah hadn’t seen Heath since the early hours of the morning, when he’d rushed off in response to that emergency phone call—which, Sarah now realized, must have been about Bel’s murder. In the meantime, Heath had suddenly been elevated to the position of headmaster of Odell, and was apparently already moving into the headmaster’s office. It was enough to make anybody’s head spin, so if the thought of seeing him for the first time since all that happened made her uncomfortable, that should only be expected. Her suspicions had turned out to be fantasies. She could trust him. Not only that, she owed it to him to congratulate him with a sincere heart, and to stand ready to help him, however he needed. It was the least she could do, after she’d failed him by convicting him of murder in her own mind.
In the walnut-paneled anteroom, Betsy Pirello, Simon Barlow’s secretary, was taping shut a cardboard box. When Sarah walked in, Betsy dropped was she was doing and ran over, smiling broadly.
“Sarah, I’m so delighted you stopped by. Heath’s on the phone, but I’d be glad to buzz him, or send in a note if you prefer.”
Betsy, a trim, pretty woman in her thirties with unnaturally bright blond hair, had always seemed to look down on Sarah, but now she sounded strangely eager to please. Of course—Betsy was Heath’s secretary now. Sarah was Heath’s wife, and therefore a personage to be reckoned with. And yet, she now had to go through a gatekeeper to speak to her own husband. It was a brave new world.
“I’d love to say hi to him. But I’m here to get interviewed by the police, so it needs to be quick.”
“I’ll buzz him right away.”
Just as Betsy picked up her phone, Heath stepped out of Simon’s office—which was now his.
“Hey, I thought I heard your voice,” he said to Sarah. “Want a quick tour of the new digs? Or are you here for something else?” he asked, looking back and forth between Sarah and Detective Howard, his expression growing wary.
“Yes, the police want to interview me.”
Heath gave the detective an ingratiating smile. “Is that really necessary, Officer? Our kids have been under the weather, and my wife is exhausted. Anything you need to know about Moreland Hall, I’d be happy to tell you myself.”
“I’ll try to make it quick, but we do need to cover the bases. Protocol and such.”
“All right. Can you give me a minute with my wife, and then I’ll send her into the conference room.”
The detective nodded. Sarah followed Heath into his new office. She stopped short, gasping, as she took in the tall casement windows with the grand drapes and sweeping view of the Quad, the imposing mahogany desk, the portraits of former headmasters on the wall. It was all so splendid and regal.
Heath watched her face, brimming with pride. “Amazing, huh?”
“Gorgeous. I’ve been here before for meetings. But to think, it’s all yours now.”
“It’s all ours, sweetheart. C’mere.”
He held out his arms, and she stepped into them. He held her for a moment, kissed the top of her head, then stepped back and looked down at her with an oddly guarded expression.
“What does this detective want with you?” he asked.
“To talk about Rose, I think.”
“Why ask you, though?”
“I’m her advisor. Plus, I spoke with Rose earlier today, and the detective knows that.”
“You spoke to her? You mean, on the phone?”
“No, I visited.”
“You went to see Rose Enright? I thought she was locked in. Why didn’t you tell me?”
She looked at him, confused. “I just told you now.”
“You should have consulted me first.”
“Why would I do that? Rose is my advisee. She’s all alone, in a terrible situation. It was my responsibility to visit. You would never tell me not to. Would you?”
“Yes, I would. You’re the headmaster’s wife now. This girl is accused of murder. You can’t go anywhere near her. Think about how it looks.”
Sarah was shocked that Heath would try to keep her from seeing her advisee. It was because of his new position, obviously. Anything that reflected poorly on the school was bound to upset him. But this didn’t bode well for how he would handle the pressure.
“I understand why you’re worried, honey, but Rose needs my help. She’s innocent.”
“That’s crazy, Sarah. That’s just wrong. They found her with the knife in her hand.”
“She can explain that. And, there was somebody else in the woods when Bel was murdered.”
Heath went deathly pale. “That’s impossible. Who told you that?”
“Rose told me herself.”
“She’s making it up,” he said, beginning to pace the floor frantically. “She’s lying. She had no memory of the murder whatsoever. I was told that, quite clearly, by the doctor.”
“Only because she had a concussion. Her memory is back now. Heath, what’s the matter? You look like death all of a sudden. Is it the flu?”
He took a deep breath, wringing his hands together, struggling visibly to control his emotions. God, she wished it was the flu, but no, it was Heath’s instability, rearing its ugly head. Be careful what you wish for, because you might just get it. Heath had wanted this job so bad. If any position was prestigious enough to make up for the collapse of his writing career, headmaster of Odell was it. Unless the pressure destroyed him first.
“What exactly did Rose tell you?” he asked.
Sarah needed to be careful what she said about Zach Cuddy. If Heath heard that a different Odell student was involved in the murder, that could send him into a tailspin.
“Rose saw somebody in the woods, but she’s sketchy on the details. She asked for my help in going to the police because her grandmother won’t let her.”
“She wants you to help her disobey her grandmother?”
“You make that sound so bad. Rose just wants to tell the truth.”
“Sarah, listen to me. Your meddling in this investigation is dangerous for the school. The evidence proves Rose guilty. Her family has a plan for dealing with the police in what is a very tricky situation. It’s not up to you to subvert that. If you interfere, Odell could be looking at another lawsuit.”
“A lawsuit. Really?”
“Yes. Families sue at the drop of a hat these days. Don’t you see why I’m worried? I have to lead defensively if I want to succeed in this job. I need you to tell that detective you’ve reconsidered, that it’s not your place to come between Rose and her family. Can you do that for me? Can you do it for Odell?”
“Heath, she’s my advisee. I promised to help her.”
“You’re a dedicated teacher, so naturally, you want to help. But we have to put the school first now. I’m headmaster. You’re my wife. It’s our job
to protect Odell as an institution. Will you support me in this? Please, darling?”
He made it sound like a reasonable request. “I guess so. All right,” she said.
“Thank you,” he said, and kissed her forehead tenderly.
But as Sarah crossed the anteroom to the conference room where the investigators waited, she was ridden with guilt. Keeping her promise to Heath meant breaking her promise to Rose. The worst part was, she was acting out of selfishness. Not to protect the school, but to protect her husband’s fragile mental health and emotional stability. Mere hours into the new job, and the signs were already there. Heath was falling apart.
52
Sarah hadn’t been in the headmaster’s conference room since that awful day when Heath had given his presentation, and she had checked her phone to find Anonymouse’s prank e-mail. The dark paneling and dusty smell, the wind rattling the old windows, flashed her back to that terrible moment, and made her feel more nervous than she already did about this interview. She was about to face a difficult moral choice, in a room that was bad luck for her. The combination made her feel ill, though that could also be the virus coming on.
A thin, balding man with glasses sat at the head of the table, jotting notes. Detective Howard introduced them. Lieutenant Kriscunas placed a tape recorder in front of Sarah and inserted a tape.
“So, Detective Howard tells me you have a message for us from Rose Enright,” Kriscunas said.
Sarah flushed, her stomach knotting more intensely. Was she really going to abandon Rose, for the sake of protecting Heath’s job? She didn’t know if she could, or how she would live with herself if she did.
“But I have to ask you not to relay that just yet. I’m waiting for a legal opinion from the county attorney’s office on whether it’s okay for us to take Rose’s statement from a third party, given that her lawyer said she’s exercising her right to silence.”
“Wait. Did I hear you correctly? You don’t want me to tell you what Rose said, about being innocent? About who really killed her sister?”
“Ma’am, I feel terrible about that. It goes against my every instinct as an investigator not to pursue relevant information. But I’ve also learned if you take shortcuts with a defendant’s rights, you wind up blowing the case on a technicality. So, bottom line, we’ll hold off on that for now.”
A defendant’s rights. He called Rose a defendant. Did that mean he already believed she was guilty? Looking on the bright side, though, if they wouldn’t let her relay what Rose said, at least it wouldn’t be by her own choice. She wouldn’t be withholding information to help Heath’s career. Sarah felt a bit better at the thought, although the room was hot and cold at the same time, and her vision had funny black dots in it.
Kriscunas began with routine questions. How many girls lived in Moreland Hall? What were Sarah’s duties as dorm cohead? She found herself weighing her answers, checking her words before she spoke, asking whether what she said might put the school in a bad light, or upset Heath. At least she didn’t need to worry that her answers would hurt Rose. But when Kriscunas turned to the topic of Rose and Bel’s relationship, Sarah started to get upset. Everything he asked seemed to assume Rose’s guilt. Did the lawsuit cause a breach between the twins? Did Sarah observe hostility between them? She wanted desperately to stick up for Rose, but he didn’t give her the chance. She was almost about to stop the interview, when he suddenly turned to asking about the girls who did the slipper attack. Had Sarah seen Tessa Romano around campus since she was expelled? Was it possible that Tessa or Darcy or even Darcy’s boyfriend, Brandon Flynn, might have wanted to kill Bel? Wow, they were way off base if they thought Tessa Romano killed Bel. But Sarah couldn’t steer them in the right direction without revealing that Zach Cuddy was in the woods that night. And she couldn’t tell them that without repeating what Rose said.
She was stuck watching the police go off on a tangent. It was excruciating, but then it got worse.
Kriscunas wanted details on the disciplinary process surrounding the slipper attack. He started asking about why Bel Enright got off easy, and Sarah started to sweat. She glanced around the conference room, her eyes landing on the seat she’d occupied when her phone buzzed in her pocket so fatefully during that meeting. She remembered opening the attachment to Anonymouse’s e-mail, seeing the photo of Heath or, if he was to be believed, not-Heath. She never quite believed him over the evidence of her own eyes, and yet she let him convince her that the photo was a fake. She let herself accept an obvious excuse, a fabrication. Why? Because otherwise her life would change, forever, and she couldn’t accept that.
“We’ve had a witness suggest that favoritism was shown to Bel Enright in the disciplinary process, in particular, by your husband. Do you think that’s a fair assessment, or not?” the lieutenant asked.
Perspiration trickled down her back. In the chill of the room, her clothes were clammy against her skin. Her vision blurred, and the lieutenant’s voice echoed weirdly. Sarah was back at her parents’ house, over Thanksgiving weekend, just after the Disciplinary Committee had met. Eavesdropping on Heath through the door, his voice as he spoke to the girl so tenderly it was almost a caress. With Darcy and Tessa gone, you can start fresh. You’ll have me to guide you … silly girl. He had been talking to Bel. Who else could it possibly be? There was something off in the exchange—something wrong. She’d known it then; she knew it now. Other people knew it, too. In the dining hall, they turned and stared. Yet everybody kept the secret. Sarah kept it, too, and now the girl was dead. She should tell them. She should tell them about Heath and Bel, about Anonymouse’s photo.
But no, then they’d think he was a murderer, when he wasn’t. Heath didn’t kill Bel Enright. Zach Cuddy was in the woods that night. Rose said so. Sarah clung to that fact like a life raft, as the room spun around her.
“Mrs. Donovan, do you need me to repeat the question?”
“I-I don’t feel well,” she said, and bolted for the door.
53
Sarah was on her knees, heaving in a bathroom stall, when she heard the door to the ladies’ room open. Her body shook with fever, and tears leaked from her eyes. She threw up again, and flushed the toilet, then stopped to listen. Somebody was standing outside the stall door.
“Hello?” she said.
“Mrs. Donovan? It’s me, Melissa Howard. Are you all right in there?”
“No, I’m—not well.”
“Would you like me to take you to a doctor?”
Sarah wiped her eyes and mouth with a piece of toilet paper. “It’s the flu. My kids had it. It just has to run its course.”
“I can take you home. My car is parked near the gym.”
Home, and bed, sounded very good right now. Sarah struggled to her feet and staggered out of the stall. The detective reached out a hand to steady her.
“Whoa there.”
“I’m okay. Just—I need some water.”
Sarah rinsed her mouth and splashed her cheeks. The cold shock against her skin helped a little. As she dried her face with a paper towel, she looked in the mirror and saw Melissa Howard watching with a shrewd, steady gaze.
“You seemed really upset, up there. When the lieutenant asked about your husband.”
The intelligence in the detective’s eyes was disconcerting. If Sarah lied, this woman would probably know it. But she wasn’t lying. She just wasn’t telling every fact she knew. Not yet. Not until the mental fog of the fever went away, and she could decide more carefully what to say, and what not to say.
“I’m actually really sick. There’s an awful virus going around this school. I’m not making that up.”
“I believe you. The nurse told me about it.”
“My apartment is closer than the parking lot. So, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to walk. I’m going home, to bed.”
“Let me escort you. You’re so unsteady that you might not make it on your own.”
Sarah took one lurching step, and nearly toppled ove
r, proving the detective right. She nodded.
With the detective supporting her firmly under one arm, they made it up the stairs and out onto the Quad. They walked along the columned portico, hugging the buildings to keep out of the wind. The headmaster’s office was on the top floor of Founders’ with a commanding view down the length of the Quad. If Heath happened to glance out his window right now, the portico would block his line of sight, and he wouldn’t be able to see Sarah with the detective. He’d been so worried about her speaking to the police because he wanted to protect the school. That made her uncomfortable, but at the same time, she was glad he wouldn’t see her. Why upset him, when she wasn’t going to say anything, anyway. The police wouldn’t listen to anything about Zach Cuddy being in the woods that night until they got their legal clearance. That made it impossible to tell them about the anonymous photo, or anything else that might implicate Heath in a relationship with Bel Enright. She would be painting a false picture. A worse picture than the actual, horrible truth. The police would suspect her husband of murder, when really all he had done was—what?
If Sarah was honest with herself, she didn’t know what Heath had done.
At the outer door to Moreland, Sarah leaned against the wall and fumbled in her bag for her card key, as the detective looked on.
“That was a big help, but I’m fine from here,” Sarah said.
“Sarah— May I call you Sarah?”
“Sure.”
“You know, about these card keys.”
“What about them?”
“There are virtually no surveillance cameras on Odell grounds. Did you know that?”
“I didn’t. It doesn’t surprise me, though. There’s no crime here—uh, until recently.”
“Very few cameras, but all the dorms use these card keys. Each use creates an electronic record. If we want to figure out who was where, and when, these little buggers can give us a pretty good picture.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
She Was the Quiet One Page 27