Words left her.
It was something primal, the feeling that took over. Numb rage and terror. And a betrayal that seared through every part of her.
She backed away from the printer and looked out of the darkening window.
Elliot Ward was Unknown.
Elliot Ward was the killer. Andie’s killer. Sal’s. Barney’s.
She watched the half-dead trees beckoning in the wind and re-created the scene in her head. Her bumping into Mr. Ward in his classroom, the note gliding to the floor. This note, the one he’d left for her. His deceitful, kind face as he asked whether she was being bullied. Cara dropping off cookies that she and her dad had baked to cheer up the Amobis about their dead dog.
All lies. Mr. Ward, the man she saw as another father figure. The man who’d made elaborate brunch spreads and scavenger hunts for them. The man who bought Pip bear-claw slippers to wear at their house to match the family. The man who told knock-knock jokes with an easy laugh. And he was a murderer.
Cara called her name.
She folded the page and slipped it into her pocket.
“You’ve been ages,” Cara said as Pip returned to the kitchen.
“Bathroom,” she said, placing the laptop down in front of Cara. “Listen, I’m not feeling so great. And I should really be editing my college essay; deadline is tomorrow. Think I’m going to head out.”
“Oh.” Cara frowned. “But Lauren’s gonna be here soon, and I wanted us all to watch Blair Witch. Dad even agreed, and he’s normally such a wimp with scary movies.”
“Where is your dad?” Pip asked. “Tutoring?”
“How often are you here? You know tutoring is Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. Think he just had to stay late at school.”
“Oh yeah, sorry, the days are blurring.” She paused, thinking. “I’ve always wondered why your dad does tutoring; surely he doesn’t need the money.”
“Why,” Cara said, “because my mom’s side of the family is richer than god?”
“Exactly.”
“I think he just enjoys it,” Naomi said, placing a tea light through the mouth of her pumpkin. “He’d probably be willing to pay his tutees just to let him garble on about history.”
“I can’t remember when he started,” Pip said.
“Um.” Naomi looked up to think. “He started just before I was about to leave for college, I think.”
“So just over five years ago?”
“Think so,” Naomi said. “Why don’t you ask him? His car just pulled up.”
Pip stiffened. She needed to leave now, get out.
“It’s OK, I’m going to head home. Sorry.” She grabbed her backpack, watching the headlights flick off to darkness through the window.
“Don’t be silly,” Cara said, concern lining her eyes. “And hey, we can hang out on Saturday after you’ve submitted, right? Watch the winter carnival setup?”
“Yeah.”
A key scraping. The back door shoved open. Footsteps crossing the family room.
Mr. Ward appeared in the kitchen. The lenses in his glasses steamed up at the edges as he entered the warm room, smiling at the three of them. He placed his briefcase and a grocery bag down on the counter.
“Hello, all,” he said. “Gosh, teachers do love the sound of their own voices. Longest meeting of my life.”
Pip forced a laugh.
“Wow, look at these pumpkins,” he said, eyes wandering between them, a wide grin splitting his face. “Pip, are you here for the movie? I’ve just picked up some spooky Halloween candy for us.”
He held up the bag and waved it with a ghostlike howl.