Chapter Thirteen
Riverbend, Louisiana
Katrina Donovan smiles down at me with her dark, thick hair, brilliant white teeth, and designer jumpsuit.
Summer stands behind her in yoga pants and a sweatshirt, yet she is still getting more looks than Katrina.
I wonder what Martha Lee would do if she saw them.
She mentioned the staff at Poison Wood was scared of some of the girls.
Was it these two? And was it one of them who snuck a boy in over Thanksgiving?
“Hey,” I say. Seeing them twice in as many days is not helping the acid situation in my gut.
Summer smiles, then runs to my side of the table and hugs me.
“Carita,” she says, and I give her a look. “Rita,” she corrects with an even bigger smile. “Oh my God. You look amazing.”
“Back at you,” I say and turn to Katrina. “It’s been a long time.”
“This is crazy,” Katrina says. She pulls out the chair next to me and sits.
Summer sits on the other side of me. “I can’t believe we are all here again.”
The three of us haven’t been at the same table together since November 2003, and back then the table was in Summer’s dining room, where we were discussing the one-year anniversary of the death of our friend Heather Hadwick with a local news reporter who was doing a follow-up.
Friend. That’s what the interviewer had called Heather, and none of us had argued it.
Bangs the server is back with a large smile and a pen and pad of paper in her hands.
“What can I get you ladies to drink?”
Kat breaks eye contact with me.
“Water with lemon,” she answers.
“Unsweet tea,” Summer says. “With lemon. But please squeeze the lemon in and leave the carcass out.”
Kat rolls her eyes.
When our server walks off, they each tuck their phones away.
Who’s going to start? I think.
Summer speaks as if she’s heard my thoughts. “So where do we start?”
Katrina’s leg is moving ninety miles an hour under the table, even faster than mine. “Let’s start with Rita,” she says, looking at me.
A shrill laugh comes from the back room, and Summer and Kat both look at the long table of women.
“Is that a baby shower?” Summer says, making a face. “I hate baby showers.”
“Me too,” Kat says. “I mean, seriously, buy your own shit. Don’t make everyone else buy things for your baby. You’re the one who got knocked up.”
Summer nods. “Exactly.”
I look between them. “Anyway.”
“Maybe we shouldn’t be doing this in a public place,” Summer says, looking around.
“It’s not like we’re having sex on the table, Summer,” Kat says. “We’re just talking.”
How very Kat of her. I remember her tactics well. It’s how she gets control. Kat leans in. Summer and I follow suit. “Rita,” she says. “What the hell is going on?”
“How did you learn about Heather?” I say instead of answering her.
“My dad told me,” she says.
I nod. Just like he told my father.
“Summer, I’m sure you knew,” I say. “It would make sense the governor at the time would be notified.”
Of all the important parents at that school, Summer’s sat at the top of the power pyramid, in the governor’s mansion in Baton Rouge.
Her father in his signature Italian suits and her mother in her cream silk pantsuits.
Unlike Kat’s mother, who never bothered to come to the school.
Only her dad, the DA, would stop in on occasion, flashing his bright smile and dark stare.
Summer nods. “I’m sure the other girls’ parents got word too.”
“I doubt they got word before the news conference. And no other girls were at the school the week Heather disappeared,” I say. “Just us.”
“Y’all ready to order?” our server says, making Summer jump. She sets our drinks on the table.
“I’m just having water,” Kat says, handing back her menu.
“I’ll take the garden salad,” I say. “Dressing on the side.”
Summer smiles up at her. “I wonder if you can get me something not on the menu,” she says.
“Here we go,” Kat says under her breath.
“I’m a diabetic, so I need to be extra careful about what I eat.
Is there any way you can have them make me a plain turkey sandwich with gluten-free bread.
No white bread or wheat bread. It has to be gluten-free.
And it needs to be deconstructed. Turkey and bread separate.
With a side of spicy mustard and one pickle slice. But just one.”
Kat scoffs.
Bangs gives Kat a sour look and refocuses on Summer’s upturned face. “Of course.” She gives Summer a wink. “I got you, sweetie.”
“You’re a doll,” Summer says.
I stare at Summer. I don’t remember her being diabetic.
Once our server has left, Kat says, “Pretty privilege at work.”
“Kat,” I say.
Summer shrugs. “She’s just jealous.” She gives Kat a smile, and Kat smiles back.
“She’s jealous you’re diabetic?” I say to Summer.
“Oh, I’m not a diabetic.” Summer sips her water. “My mom is. I’ve learned it’s a way to make sure the order gets done properly.”
The three of us look at each other for a moment, but no one speaks.
“How is your dad?” Kat says, breaking the awkward moment. “My dad told me about the . . . that he’s in the hospital.”
“Yeah,” Summer says. “Sorry about that.”
“He’s okay. Thanks,” I say. Then I add, “You know what brought me to town. What brought you two to town?” I look between them.
“Are you kidding? No way Summer and I would miss a front-row seat to whatever is about to go down with that school.”
From the look on Summer’s face, I’d say she wouldn’t mind missing it. That makes two of us.
“I’m sure your dad’s freaking out,” Kat says. “You know better than anyone the media is going to eat this up. I mean, we all better get ready.”
She seems like the one who’s eating it up. But she’s not wrong.
“He’s got me to help him,” I say.
“I guess he’s lucky y’all are still so close,” Kat says.
The thorn now feels more like a blade. Her words sound as loaded as my father’s shotgun. I don’t want to take the bait, but the high road seems to be too congested for me to get on right now. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing,” Kat says, bringing one manicured hand to her chest. “Oh my God, Rita. Nothing. It’s just I know him sending you to Poison Wood was hard. And it gave you like trust issues and stuff. Like it did for Summer,” she says.
“Don’t bring me into this,” Summer says.
“You know what I mean,” Kat says to Summer.
“You two weren’t like me,” she says to me.
“Y’all were mad at your dads for dumping you at that school, when I was giddy.
I couldn’t wait to get out of my house. I didn’t trust my parents to start with, so, you know, no trust was broken.
But I mean with your dad. You know, it’s got to be hard right now. ”
I push my water away. I want to stand up and walk out of here. But I stay in my seat. This isn’t the dining hall, and I’m not fifteen anymore.
“I don’t remember you being overjoyed to be at Poison Wood.”
Kat shrugs. “Maybe not at first. But it grew on me.”
Summer shivers. She has turned an odd shade of green, and I’m worried she’s going to be sick right here at the table.
“You okay?” I say to her.
“Can we move on?” she says.
After an uncomfortable minute, I say, “We need to talk about Heather.”
“And Johnny Adair,” Summer says.
“And the skull,” Katrina says in a low voice. “Who do we think that belonged to?” She grins and looks at me.
“I’ve spoken with someone who thinks one of the St. Matthew’s boys was there that night,” I say.
“What?” Kat says.
Summer sits up straighter. “Who said that?”
“Doesn’t matter,” I say.
“Had to have been someone that was there,” Kat says. She sips her lemon water. “Not a long list.”
“Did either of you see anyone else there that night?”
They both shake their heads.
“Look,” Kat says. “I think it’s pretty obvious that Heather did something that night and took off. And then she let a dude rot in prison for it.”
“I don’t know,” I say.
“I agree with Kat,” Summer says.
“Heather was trouble,” Kat says. “I heard they were thinking about sending her somewhere else.”
Dr. Fontenot had mentioned the girl with borderline personality disorder be transferred.
I would have guessed Heather would have been more in the oppositional defiance category.
Her defiance was on full display. It’s why she spent half her class time in detention.
“How did you know they were considering transferring Heather?”
“I remember overhearing the counselors talking about her. The bad one.” Kat uses air quotes. “They didn’t know what to do with her.”
“Do either of you know the name she used in her journals?” I say. “Remember those?”
Kat and Summer exchange a look.
“Why?” Kat says.
“Just curious,” I say, matching her gaze.
“No idea,” Kat says.
Summer shakes her head.
I consider asking for their journal names, but the looks on their faces tell me information may stop flowing soon if I do.
“Whatever happened to her boyfriend?” Summer says.
“Which one?” Kat says, and they laugh.
I don’t laugh with them. They better be careful in their glass houses.
“So how did Heather get out of those woods?” I say.
“Maybe she hitchhiked.” Kat leans forward. “So why’s she dead now?”
“I bet she killed herself,” Summer says, nodding. “Guilt.”
“Okay, ladies, here we go.” Our server puts a plate in front of Summer and me. She pulls a piece of paper from her front pocket. “I’m leaving the bill here, but no rush. You ladies take your time.”
Despite our topic of conversation, Summer dives into her turkey and gluten-free bread as if she hasn’t eaten in weeks. From the looks of her, maybe she hasn’t.
I pick at my salad. “There’s no cause of death for Laura Sanders yet. But I know the detective is treating it as a homicide.”
“How do you know that?” Summer says.
“Because I was there when she was found. Laura Sanders reached out to me.”
Kat makes a face. “What do you mean reached out to you?”
“She wanted to talk to me.”
“Oh my God,” Summer says.
“Holy shit,” Kat says.
“I don’t think she would have asked me to come to Florida if she was just going to kill herself.”