MARGOT COULD FEEL HER HAND TREMBLING IN LOGAN’S AS Coach Creed peeled his car out of the parking lot. He’d threatened to kill John and Bree. Had he taken it a step further with Ronny, who’d gotten him fired from Archway? She could see the madness in his eyes as he stormed the front door of the club. Not only did Coach Creed have motive, he had the ability—both physically and mentally—to commit murder. She’d seen it on his face when he spotted Bree in the doorway.
“I doubt he’ll be back,” Logan said.
Margot pushed all thoughts of Coach Creed from her mind. She wasn’t going to let anything ruin this night.
Logan squeezed her hand as the line began to move. Once inside the club, he navigated them to the railing that separated the bar area from the mosh pit. It was the perfect spot: far enough from the action that she wouldn’t get trampled in the pit, but two steps up from the dance floor, it had an unobstructed view of the stage.
“I’m going to the bar,” Logan said, close to her ear. “Can I get you anything?”
“Just some water,” she said.
“Okay.” He nodded with fake seriousness. “Hold down the fort while I’m gone.”
Margot sighed and leaned against the railing. She must have slipped into a coma and was living out some kind of repressed fantasy. There was no way this could all be real.
A body sidled up behind her, and Margot spun around, expecting it to be Logan.
Instead, Ed the Head glared at her coldly.
“So this is why you couldn’t go out with me tonight,” he said. “You already had a date.”
“I told you I was busy,” Margot said. “That wasn’t a lie.”
“Wasn’t the truth, either.”
Margot felt the heat of shame spreading across her chest. “I’m sorry. I should have told you.”
Ed craned his head, scanning the club. “So who’s your date? And why did he leave you alone to fend for yourself?”
“He’s at the bar,” Margot said defensively. “Getting me a bottle of water.” She wasn’t going to let Ed the Head disparage Logan.
“Ah.” Ed stared at the bar in silence. “Logan Blaine, huh?” he said after a few moments.
“How could you possibly know that?”
He shrugged. “Easy. He keeps looking over here.”
Great. “Can we talk at school tomorrow?” Margot asked, desperate for him to leave her alone.
Ed the Head ignored her. “What do we know about this guy?”
“We?”
“Yeah. I mean, he just transferred into this school and you’re already boyfriend and girlfriend? Have you met his parents? His friends? Know where he lives? Done any sort of background check or extensive email hacking?” He eyed Margot. “This guy could be anyone.”
Margot winced as thoughts of Christopher Beeman flooded her brain. This guy could be anyone.
Stop it. Coach Creed was clearly the prime suspect and Christopher Beeman, whoever he was, had faded into Ronny’s backstory. “Is there something you wanted?” Margot asked.
“Actually, yeah.” Ed the Head pulled a file folder out of his ever-present backpack. “Small lead on your photo.”
Margot caught her breath. “Do you know who it is?”
“Not exactly.” Ed the Head held the folder in both hands. “I tried everything. Even dusted it for prints. No one’s but yours.”
“You have a fingerprinting kit?”
“Why should that surprise you?”
Margot shook her head. “Anything else?”
“The photo was taken with an older iPhone model, maybe a 3G or a 3GS.”
“Oh.” Margot got the distinct impression this information could have waited until school Monday morning. “Well, that narrows it down to every single person I went to junior high school with.”
Ed the Head clicked his tongue. “O ye of little faith.” He opened the folder and pushed a photo into her hands. “I ran it through some filters and here’s what I got.”
The photo looked as if it had been lightened, color enhanced, and expertly contrasted. The face of the photographer was still a featureless blob, but Margot could clearly make out the light curly hair.
“Based on my estimations, the girl in the photo was about five feet tall, with midlength curly blond hair.”
“Which describes most of the girls in my class,” Margot said with a sigh.
“Not so much.” Ed the Head slipped several more photos out of the folder and handed them to Margot. They were blowups of photos from her seventh-grade yearbook. “Taking into account hair length, height, and when these yearbook photos were taken, I’ve narrowed it down to five suspects.”
Margot sifted through the photos. Tiffany Horne, Samantha Heisberg, Loretta Davis, Eleanor McGrath. As she stared at the fifth and final photo, her hand began to shake.
Olivia Hayes.
