“I don’t have to tell you shit, kid. Look at yourself.” She glares at me with the kind of bitter fury that only someone who truly cares about me can muster. It breaks my heart to see her look at me that way. My own mother doesn’t look at me that way—it’s all just grimy disappointment from her. “In your present state, you’re a liability to yourself and others.”
“I thought you wanted me to lean into my pain.”
She nods. “Yes, lean into it. Not become absorbed by it.”
I shrug my shoulders. “I was blowing off steam.”
“Too much, if you ask me.”
“Don’t tell me you never drank over shit that was going wrong.”
Her gaze softens momentarily. “I’m not a hypocrite, Alex. I’m telling you to ease up and get your head on straight because I know personally how bad that can worsen things.”
“So, you’ve done this before?”
“How old do you think I am?” The sparkle of amusement in her eyes dares me to take a guess, but I don’t want to upset her generous nature. I’ve already bitten too hard by being a huge jerk. The worry returns to her expression as she says, “Alex, you need a clear head if you’re going to investigate these recent murders.”
I purse my lips thoughtfully. “How would I do that?”
“Hospital records.”
“You mean death certificates?”
She nods. “Those are important to study. See who signed off on the cause of death and whether or not there were any accompanying doctors.”
“That makes sense. Is there anyone I should watch out for?”
She hums thoughtfully and then replies, “Do you know the medical teams for each family?”
“Sort of.”
“That’s probably something you could determine using one of those knuckleheads that thinks you’re a rag doll.”
Doll. I roll the word around in my brain while thinking about Tomas—Tommy if I’m feeling particularly affectionate. And he’s been allowing the nickname to roll from my lips. Does that mean I can trust him? He might tell me about his doctors. I’m sure Marie has a whole fucking hospital just for her.
“All right, Coach. Anything else?”
She sighs loudly. “Are you squeamish?”
I blanch, telling her exactly what she needs to know.
“No dead bodies for you.” She scratches her head. “What about the scenes?”
“I don’t know much about that stuff, Coach.”
“Really? You don’t obsess over those weird detective shows?” She laughs. “The kids in third period will not stop going on about those documentaries.”
I shake my head. “I have enough darkness in my life. Why would I want more?”
“That’s fair, kid.” She pauses for a second, studying me for longer than anyone else dares. “How well did you know these kids?”
I shrug. “Not well at all.”
“Well, while you’re looking at their death certificates, make sure to look at their birth certificates too. Check the paternity of the kids—it’s important.”
“Why’s that important?”
She places her hand on my shoulder with a sigh. “There’s so much about Macedon that you don’t know, and you must uncover it for yourself.”