I put my textbook down. “What the hell?”
She waggled it in front of us. “This school just got a lot more fun, ladies.”
Summer clapped, and I joined in even though I had yet to ever try drugs of any kind. But Katrina had a way of making you feel like everything she suggested was a good thing. She emitted a circle of light around her that you just wanted to be a part of. Then she’d look at you and bring you into her fold, and you were just ... powerless.
I hear a car engine and voices coming from the front of the school. It’s time.
I walk around the far wall of the building and spot Carl and Erin by their rented van out front. A few other people have shown up as well. A man in a cheap suit is helping set up a podium in the mowed spot. Two deputies, Chief Duplantis. Detective Lane Gautreaux is also present and staring at her phone.
When I spot Erin talking with Detective Gautreaux, I miss my heels and suit. I want to be the one talking to the detectives, sharing information. Getting information. If I put those heels on I’d be stepping on some toes.
My father’s voice fills my head:Mind your p’s and q’s, young lady.I looked that phrase up in college and discovered it came from Irelandand referred to minding your pints and quarts. Something I definitely didn’t do at this place.
Carl approaches me as I’m finding a place to stand, out of the way but with a clear shot of the podium.
“Hey,” he says.
“Hey. Carl . . .”
“It’s okay.”
“It’s not okay. I didn’t mean to jeopardize anything for you. I’m sorry.”
He sighs. Rubs his face. “You, more than anyone, know the rules in this game. People in other professions can get away with half truths and omissions, but we don’t get that luxury.”
“I know. This whole thing has just ... knocked me off kilter. I made a mistake. And I’ll make sure I correct it.”
“Then what are you doing here?” he says.
I blanch, but he’s got a point. “I just want to see him,” I say, which is 100 percent the truth.
A large black Cadillac Escalade rolls into the grassy area where people are starting to park and gather. The SUV sits idling with exhaust clouds escaping behind it, keeping its passengers warm.
Is Johnny Adair one of those passengers? My hands start to tremble, so I shove them in my pockets.
More media has also shown up, and so have more townspeople. They are all milling around, a low hum of chatter hovering in the air. There are a lot more cameras and press present than at the news conference in Natchitoches. And if one of those cameras swings in this direction and spots me, things could get tricky.
Carl follows my gaze. “You shouldn’t have come, Rita. You could have watched this online.”
“Not a chance,” I say. “But I’ll stay out of the way. Don’t worry.”
He trots back to Erin’s side, and I watch them set up by the podium. I’m expecting that pull again, the need to be the one front and center inthe scrum. And I do feel something, but it’s not as strong as it was when I watched Erin talking to the detective. I’m right where I need to be.
Chief Duplantis makes his way to the podium. “All right, folks. Let’s get started,” he says, his voice booming since there is no microphone on the podium. No electrical outlets in the forest. There are, however, several news microphones attached to the podium so the outlets represented here won’t miss a word.
I pull my cap down a little farther over my face. The crowd moves in.
“My name is William Duplantis, chief of police at the Natchitoches Police Department,” Duplantis says, and I steady my breath. “Today Mr. Johnny Adair will be making a brief statement. Please give us a few minutes, and we’ll be bringing him up. Mr. Adair will not be taking questions today.”
A murmur ripples through the crowd. Erin is in front of the semicircle around the podium. She’s in the same nondescript look as the other day, beige pants, white button-up. Unlike me, she completely blends in. Nothing about her stands out, and I wonder if that is part of her strategy.
“Afterward,” Duplantis says, “I’ll take a few questions. Also,” he adds, “we ask that everyone stay clear of this building. It’s dangerous inside. We are currently looking into ways to secure it. Until then, we ask everyone to please stay away.”
I glance over my shoulder as a white luxury SUV pulls in behind the Escalade. But unlike the Escalade, the occupants of this car don’t stay hidden. Both front doors open, and Katrina and Summer step out. Something electric zigs through my veins. Being on this land, at this school, with them again feels ... wrong. They meet in front of the car and walk together to the far side of the crowd, opposite me. If they’ve seen me, they haven’t let on.
Katrina is in a different pair of $300 jeans, these dark blue and ripped, and a sweater and coat as black as her hair. Summer is in a flowy floral dress and long pink coat, and of course she looks gorgeous. Blond tendrils fall from her messy bun. Several people stop to watch her. I know Katrina would love to believe they are watching her, but it’s Summer people always stop to stare at.
A woman in a police uniform walks to the Escalade and taps on the window. The door opens. I catch Summer taking Katrina’s hand, and an odd emotion creeps over me. I want to label it annoyance, but that’s not it. What I’m feeling is more visceral, like envy. They’ve still got each other. They get to stand side by side as whatever is about to happen develops. But I remind myself that’s leftover shit from our tripod of a friendship. I know three is the number nature loves, but it’s not the number a friend group loves. One of us was always left out. And that one was usually me.
