“You came to Lachlan just for this?” Sara asked.
“Yes. You see...” She took a drink. “Everything I have in my life, I owe to Cheryl Morris. You can’t imagine how hard I’ve tried to find her. Google searches. ‘Find people’ investigative services. I hired a professional investigator. I’ve called and written to everyone I know in Lachlan and asked about her, but no one knew where she and her mother went after they left town. The best I got was a cryptic and unfriendly reply from Captain Edison.”
“What did Cheryl do for you? And your note—who hates her?” Kate asked. “We’d like to hear everything.”
Elaine was looking at Jack. “You were there that day. Eating pie and drinking milk. I must say that you grew up rather well.”
Before Jack could reply, Kate said, “He knows that. What happened at Cheryl’s house?”
Elaine leaned back in the chair. “You want the long or short version?”
“Long,” they replied in unison.
“Okay. It started near the end of my senior year on the day that I was bawling my eyes out in the girls’ restroom of Lachlan High School.”
“Young love,” Sara said.
“Of course,” Elaine answered. “What else makes a person so miserable? It was during class but I didn’t care. In fact, I hoped I’d get caught and expelled. I never wanted to go to school ever again. Never wanted to see any of those kids again.” She raised her hand. “It was teenage angst at its worst...”
May 1997
Elaine Langley was sitting on the cold tile floor of the girls’ restroom and crying hard. When the door opened, she wanted to scream at whoever it was to get out, but tears were choking her throat too much to speak.
When she saw it was that girl who looked like a teacher, she cried harder. What was her name? Sherry? No, Cheryl. No one knew much about her—or wanted to.
Elaine tried to stifle her tears, but they kept coming.
Cheryl was using a wet paper towel to try to get a stain out of her blouse, but it wasn’t working. “Silk is not a good fabric for high school,” she said. “Certainly not something to wear around Gena Upton.”
At the name, Elaine let out a howl and her tears increased to a veritable flood.
She was choking, nearly suffocating on them.
“Oh, hell,” Cheryl muttered, then turned to face Elaine. “What’s that bitch done to you?”
Elaine covered her face with her hands and shook her head. She could never, ever, never tell anyone what she—not Gena—had done. If she did, she’d die from humiliation on the spot.
Above her, Cheryl gave a deep sigh, as though she knew what she had to do but definitely didn’t want to. She hiked up her straight black skirt to her thighs, sat down on the icy floor in front of Elaine, then pulled the girl’s hands away from her swollen face. “Tell me.”
Elaine shook
her head. “Can’t,” she eventually said, barely managing to choke out the word.
“Anything to do with Jim Pendal?”
Elaine gasped. “How could you know?” She wasn’t to the hiccup stage yet, but she could feel it coming.
“I watch people. And besides, you aren’t exactly subtle. When he’s around, you don’t breathe.”
Elaine put her hands back over her face. “Then he knows!”
“No, he doesn’t. He’s a boy. He only knows about food and sports.”
“And Gena Upton,” Elaine said loudly.
“She went after him. His family is rich and Jim is a hunk. My guess is that she’s trying to get him to knock her up so he can’t get away.”
Elaine drew in her breath so hard that she started coughing.