Beth didn’t care much for her mother’s platitudes. She’d heard them over and over, whenever something terrible happened. It didn’t matter if it was a catastrophic event like 9/11 (“We can be grateful that there were only four airplanes”) or something smaller, like a house fire in Bremerton that killed a little girl (“Her little sister got out alive, a real blessing”). Kim always had some kind words that she wrongly assumed could help her daughter get through the hard stuff.

“Then why does it happen to us every few years?” Beth asked.

That was, Kim Lee knew, a good question. She pondered it while she watched a flock of seagulls hover and drop a discarded bag of Doritos in the backyard. Orange triangles like mini-road-warning signs scattered on the messy, wet grass.

“Christina . . . The bus crash was an accident,” Kim said. “Your father died in a—” she paused a moment, her throat catching a little, “in an accident. There was nothing anyone could have done. No one could have done a thing differently.”

“And Katelyn, too,” Beth said, adding the name of her friend who’d died in a bathtub accident the previous Christmas.

Kim nodded. “Right, Katelyn’s death was another accident.”

“Accident, not so much, Mom. Not really. That one could have been prevented.” Beth looked into her mother’s damp brown eyes. “You know, if Mindee Larsen wasn’t such a bitch.”

Kim let the b-word slide. She’d read in O magazine that venting was good, cheap therapy. While it had been only the two of them for almost a decade, they’d never been able to dig into the hurt. Kim would try, but Beth would shut her out with sarcasm or a cold shoulder.

“Maybe so,” she said, finally. “Changing one little thing can change everything.”

Beth sipped the Red Bull. “What happened to Olivia wasn’t an accident, Mom.”

Kim nodded. “You’re right. What happened to Olivia was evil and it should never have happened. This time there will be someone to blame. It won’t make anyone feel any better, Beth, but at the end of the day, someone will be held accountable.”

Kim picked up the drawing. She held it by the corners and turned it into the light from the window for a better view.

“I like this one,” she said, trying to shift the conversation to something pleasant.

Beth sucked down the rest of her drink and looked back at her drawing.

Kim put down the artwork, her eyes, soft and full of worry, lingering on it.

“You need to get some rest. Olivia’s parents will be here tomorrow.”

Beth could see her mom starting to crumble and whenever she did, it only made Beth mad. She wasn’t sure where the anger came from, or if it was really anger at all.

Beth looked sceptical. “Some rest? Then why give me an energy drink?”

Kim took the empty can. “It was the only thing I thought would cheer you up.”

Seriously? Beth thought. Our exchange student is murdered and the best you could come up with is a Red Bull. A Red Bull? If I didn’t hurt so bad, I’d so be tweeting that.

The doorbell rang, and a moment later Taylor and Hayley rushed into Beth’s bedroom and threw their arms around their friend.

“I’m so sorry,” Taylor blurted out. “I know you were close to Olivia. She didn’t deserve this.”

“Yeah, Beth,” Hayley said. “How are you holding up?”

Beth shrugged, feigning nonchalance, though her cried-out eyes told a different story. “Oh, you know. Not great, but what else is new? Nasty hangover. Oh, and Olivia’s parents will be here tomorrow.”

“You want us there?” Hayley asked.

Beth nodded. “Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“School was weird,” Taylor said, switching to full report mode. “Everyone was talking about what happened. All the kids, anyway. The school still hasn’t officially acknowledged Olivia’s gone. Brianna skipped today, of course. Drew too. Don’t worry. We’ll be there tomorrow.”

Beth knew she could count on them, and that was a good feeling. They never let her down. Yet, as much as she loved Hay-Tay, Beth was also envious of them. They had each other. In some ways, they were each other. Beth was alone. She looked over at her drawing. She wondered if she had drawn a picture of herself and Olivia.

Or maybe it was two other girls she knew?

ONCE AGAIN THE DOORBELL CHIMED at the Lee house. Kim Lee emerged from the third bedroom, which she’d converted to an office, and went to the door. Like her daughter, she’d also taken the day off, knowing she would have been too distracted to focus on her job in the accounting department at the Port Gamble mill. The day had started with tears and high anxiety, and it was about to end with something even worse.

Fear.

In the emerging light from the porch lantern, a tall figure in a dark-blue Macy’s Woman suit loomed on the front steps. It was Annie Garnett, the only police chief who could wear her badge like a Tiffany brooch. Her dark eyes, underscored by the circles left by a sleepless night, met Kim’s.

“Annie,” Kim said as she opened the door. The two had talked on the phone several times throughout the day as Annie gathered up information about Olivia and her family, and how to contact them.

“May I come in?” Annie asked, tamping her oversized feet gently on the Lee’s jute welcome mat. “It’s more about Olivia and the Halloween party. I need to talk to you and Beth.”

Kim motioned the police chief inside.

“Beth!” she called down the hall. “Chief Garnett is here to talk to you.”

Kim offered tea, but Annie declined. She was jittery from endless cups of coffee, and one more drop of caffeine would make her unable to focus. She smiled when Beth emerged. Annie sat down in Park Lee’s favorite recliner. Kim joined her daughter on the sofa.

“Have you caught whoever killed Olivia?” Beth asked, wondering what Hay-Tay were up to in her room and if they could hear what was being said.

Annie shook her head. “No, not yet. We will. I know you and your mom are quite understandably upset.”

“Yes, we are devastated by the loss,” Kim said, starting to cry. “I should never have let Olivia and Beth go to the party—on a school night, no less. This is my fault. I know it is.”

Annie put up her hand to stop her. “It isn’t your fault, Kim. I’m sure you thought she was safe.”

Kim, still crying, looked at her daughter who she now knew had lied to her about Brianna’s parents’ whereabouts during the party. “I thought there was an adult present,” she said.

Beth deflected her mother’s gaze. “Olivia was almost like a sister to me,” she said, her eyes gliding over the urns that held the remains of her sister and father above the TV. It was a reflex more than anything, but Annie followed the trajectory of the teen’s eyes. Everyone in town knew that half of the Lee family was on a shelf in the front room.

“You had a fight with Brianna last night,” Annie said, a touch abruptly. “I just want to know more about what happened at the party.”

Beth looked at her mom, then back at the police chief.

“It wasn’t really a fight,” she said. “It was just over-the-top banter. I might have gotten a little bit out of line.”

“You hit her?” Kim asked.

“No, Mom!” Beth said. She turned to Annie. “Absolutely not. I just told her off. She made some remark about my costume.”

“What kind of remark?” Annie asked.

Beth shrugged a little. “Something catty. I can’t even remember what it was.”

“What was your costume?” Annie asked.

Beth fired off her response a little too rapidly, a clear indicator that guzzling a can of Red Bull before meeting with the police chief would never fall anywhere on the list of good ideas. “Geisha. Nothing special. Just a costume.”

Annie asked, “May I see it?”

“I guess so.” Beth got up, ducked into the hall closet, and returned a moment later with the kimono on a platinum gray Huggable Hanger she’d purchased from QVC.