KITTY WASN’T SURE WHAT SHE WAS EXPECTING TO FIND WHEN she turned into the upperclassmen’s parking lot the next morning. A return to normalcy? A full reset, as if Ronny’s murder had never happened? Totally unrealistic, she realized, but still, unconsciously, she’d hoped that life at Bishop DuMaine would go back to its regularly scheduled programming.
No such luck.
The police were still out in full force. In fact, it didn’t look like they’d left their posts at each of the main school entrances since yesterday. Kitty’s heart sank as she realized that there would be no reprieve from suspicion and anxiety at Bishop DuMaine any time soon.
An SUV pulled into the spot next to her, and Donté stepped out.
“Hi!” Kitty said, swinging her door open. She felt a surge of excitement she immediately tried to suppress. She needed to stick to her guns: she and Donté could never be together. “What are you doing here so early?”
Donté jogged around the front of his car. “I couldn’t wait to see you again.” He slipped his hand into hers, and Kitty’s stomach did a backflip.
“Come on,” Donté said, tugging her toward school. “I’ll walk you to the office. You need to prep those announcements.”
Not one but two officers barred their way into the administrative building—one male, one female—and they each carried a clipboard.
“Name?” the female officer said to Kitty.
“Kitty Wei and Donté Greene.” Her eyes grew wide. “I mean, not that we’re together. Not like that. Er, I mean, we came through the door together, but it’s not what you’re thinking.” Kitty could feel her face growing hot. What was it about Donté that turned her into a total dork?
“I’m sure it’s not,” the officer said with a smirk, crossing two names off her list. “Next?”
“It’s okay, you know,” Donté said quietly as they hurried to the school office.
“The security checkpoint?” Kitty asked.
“I meant people thinking we’re a couple. It’s okay, right?”
“Right,” Kitty said. Only she didn’t hear herself speak over the sound of her brain screaming OH MY GOD, DONTÉ THINKS WE’RE A COUPLE! on an endless loop.
They turned the corner and found Mika waiting by the office door. As soon as she saw Kitty with Donté, a sly smile spread across her face. “Hi, Donté,” she said coyly. “Aren’t you here early this morning?”
Donté laughed lightly. “It’s like the airport—gotta leave time for security.”
“For reals,” Mika said, instantly serious. “Can you believe that? What’s next—locker searches? Pat-downs?”
“It’s pretty jacked,” Donté said.
“A student was murdered, Mika,” Kitty said, trying to be the voice of reason.
Mika threw up her hands. “They haven’t proved anyone from Bishop DuMaine was involved. Are they going to take away all of our rights while they search for the killer?”
If it kept someone from killing again, Kitty wasn’t so sure that was a bad thing.
But she couldn’t say that to Mika, for whom the security checkpoint had clearly touched a nerve. Instead, she glanced at her watch. “I’ve got to get the announcements ready,” she said, then looked at Mika. “Did you need me for something?”
Mika shook her head. “Nope, it can wait. Come on, Donté. You can tell me all about your date yesterday on our way to leadership class.” She dragged Donté down the hall before Kitty could protest.
Donté barely managed a wave over his shoulder as Mika hustled him out of sight.
“Good morning, Kitty,” Mrs. Baggott said as Kitty walked into the office. It was her usual greeting, but Mrs. Baggott’s voice lacked her characteristic cheerful, singsong quality. Instead, both the words and the sentiment seemed forced, and her smile, usually so genuine, was tense, her face lined with worry.
“Morning, Mrs. Baggott,” Kitty said. “Still crazy around here today?”
Mrs. Baggott pushed her wheelie desk chair across the floor to a short file cabinet and nodded toward Father Uberti’s office. “You can say that again.”
The blinds in his office were open, and Kitty stole a glance inside as she shuffled through the in-box. Father Uberti paced in front of the window, arms clasped behind his back like a man deep in philosophical thought. Sitting on the other side of the desk, arms waving erratically as he spoke, was Coach Creed.
Coach Creed and Father Uberti in conference? Perfect opportunity to find out what they knew about Ronny’s murder. Feigning a visit to the filing cabinet next to Father Uberti’s office, Kitty pretended to search for something, her ears straining as she eavesdropped.
“Bullshit!” Coach Creed barked. “Uh, sorry, Father.” He cleared his throat. “I just mean, we’ve got a dead student. Murder is still a crime, isn’t it?”
Father Uberti gritted his teeth. “Yes, Dick. Murder is a crime. But there’s no evidence that they’re guilty.”
Coach Creed pounded his fist against the desk. “We can’t let John Baggott and Bree Deringer get away with it!”
Kitty stiffened. Bree and John?
“Shh!” Father Uberti hissed. “Maureen will hear you. And you can’t go around throwing out murder accusations willy-nilly.”
“But they’re guilty!” Coach Creed said.
Father Uberti shook his head. “Maybe of being behind the DGM pranks, but of murder? I’m not willing to go that far.”
“Fine,” Coach Creed mumbled. “But we can’t let them get away with it.”
Father Uberti smiled. “You mean murder or making you look like an ass in front of the entire school?”
Coach Creed scowled but didn’t answer.
Father Uberti renewed his pacing. “We need probable cause.”
Coach Creed’s head snapped up. “How do we do that?”
“Weren’t you at some military academy before you came here? Out in Arizona?”
A military academy in Arizona? The list Bree saw in Ronny’s room popped into Kitty’s mind. Could that be the connection? Could Coach Creed have taught at Archway?
“Yeah,” Coach Creed said slowly. “What about it?”
Father Uberti sighed heavily. “Use your brain, Dick. Bishop DuMaine has its own army of peer enforcers.”
It took Coach Creed a full ten seconds to grasp the priest’s meaning. “You mean the ’Maine Men? You want us to—”
A massive bang ripped through the office as the door burst open and Rex sprinted into Father Uberti’s office. “They got him!”
Kitty froze. Him?
Coach Creed vaulted to his feet. “Baggott? They’ve arrested him?”
In the lobby, Kitty watched the color drain out of Mrs. Baggott’s face.
Rex shook his head. “No. He confessed. And you’re never going to believe this, the killer is—”
Before Rex could answer, the two police officers who had been manning the side entrance marched into the administrative lobby, half-dragging a student between them. Kitty’s jaw dropped.
It wasn’t John Baggott who had confessed to Ronny’s murder. It was Theo Baranski.
