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She cuts him off with a shake of the head.
Chaz is about to intervene but decides to let this play out. These boys need to learn some manners.
“You call yourself a crew?”
“Mrs. O’Leary—” another one of them starts to say, but stops talking.
“Watching the game when the people who caused this to happen are going about their lives like nothing’s changed.”
Patrick says, “I’m sorry, Mrs. O’Leary, we are actually—”
“After we bury Anthony tomorrow,” Gina cuts in, “I’m taking my husband on a trip, far away from here. And while we’re gone, any self-respecting crew would make sure this matter is taken care of.”
To Chaz’s surprise, Patrick answers: “It’s already in the works, Mrs. O’Leary.”
“Good, get it done.” Gina turns and storms away.
Chaz walks over to Patrick. In a quiet voice he says, “What did you do?”
“You’re always saying I need to take initiative.” He eyes his father. “So I did.”
34
LEAVENWORTH, KANSAS
Poppy pulls into the driveway of her house. She’s called her brother repeatedly, but he’s ignoring her. Dash knows something about Alison’s abduction. Or worse. She can’t let herself deny it anymore. It’s been there the whole time. Buckman, so angry that his investigation was being stifled, believing he’d been wrongfully terminated: Look in your own house. Alison’s friend Ruby Quinn: Ask your brother. Now the podcast’s witness who saw a motorcycle and sidecar—like the ridiculous and rare one of Dash’s—at Lovers’ Lane that night.
But that’s not what’s making her skin crawl. It’s the question she asked Ziggy: Why would someone want to blame MRK for Alison’s murder? And Ziggy’s response: To protect whoever really took her.
Who would want to protect Dash if he’d done something horrific? The answer strikes a lightning bolt to her core. Their father. Helped by his closest friend in the world, the man who helped him survive in Iraq, Sheriff Ken Walton.
Poppy marches to the front door. It’s time to confront her father. She pushes through the front door, steeling herself. She hears the television still on.
Charging into the living room, she’s stopped in her tracks.
In the blue light, she sees her father spread out on the floor. He’s not moving.
“Dad!”
35
PHILADELPHIA, PENNSYLVANIA
Michael wakes up abruptly to the pinging of his phone, jolting upright. The sharp morning sun cuts through the window. He’s had a restless sleep, filled with dreams he can’t remember. It’s probably for the best because he’s also filled with dread, so they can’t have been good ones. The phone pings and pings again, which is always ominous this early in the morning.
Please don’t be O’Leary, he prays.
He reaches for the device and sees three email notices from Taylor’s school. The subject lines wake him up: Alert! Fire on Campus; Alert! Classes Canceled; Alert! Information for Students and Parents.
The headmaster’s quarters—the grand residence on the hill of the Academy—caught fire well after midnight. But that’s not what sends his heart into free fall. It’s that Headmaster Pendleton is believed to have succumbed to the blaze.
It’s a coincidence, an awful coincidence, Michael tells himself. This isn’t an episode of Dateline, it’s real life. And in real life, awful coincidences and tragedies happen. It has nothing to do with what happened to Anthony O’Leary. Nothing to do with what Michael and the other parents did to protect their children.
Michael swings his legs out of the bed, heads to check on Taylor. Her bedroom door is shut, but there’s noise coming from inside. He puts his ear near to the door. He thinks he hears crying.
“Taylor,” he says to the closed door. “Everything okay?”
She says something he can’t make out, so he slowly turns the knob and eases the door open.