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The cops seemed as baffled as Josh felt, one of them the parent of a Hamilton sophomore. Vasquez was her name, and Josh knew the family. The other was an Officer Hurley, based on his badge, and he seemed equally freaked out by these odd circumstances.

“We’re going to….” After some muttered discussion, the two officers opted to stand with their backs to the door, barring any sudden escapes.

Had Cilla already tried to make some kind of break for it? Why was she cuffed? Why was there blood? Why were Josh’s papers and clothes all over the floor?

Josh asked, “What exactly has been happening in here?”

Carver spoke calmly and slowly. “We have what you might call a situation.”

“No kidding.” Josh’s gaze careened between Cilla and the cops. “Care to explain why we’re standing here at two in the morning?”

“My job. My job is what.” Cilla grinned and bounced, words clattering out like coins from a jackpot. “I swung by briefly, shooting a little B-roll for my producers, when this fat maniac attacked me. She assaulted me out of the clear blue.”

“ZZZZZZT. Try again, Little Orphan Anorexia.” Elise scowled, her good arm crossed over her athletic department sweatshirt. Was she actively bleeding? Why was she bleeding?

“To be clear,” Carver tried to interject, “Miss Miller has offered four or five different explanations so far—”

Elise jabbed a finger toward her. “None of which are anywhere close to what happened. Because it happened to me, you bitter bitch. Because the entire school has actual cameras and your bony ass is going to jail. Real jail.” She held up the red-soaked towel around her arm and pointed at it. “On camera.”

“Then what did happen?” Josh asked. His bafflement had started to tip over into dismay. If Cilla Miller had been prowling around campus in the wee hours, whatever had gone down tonight meant nothing good for him and Tyler.

“So….” Elise took a deep breath and launched into a reenactment with melodramatic gusto. “I finished painting the yoga studio kind of late, and I realize my laptop isn’t in my bag. Because I’d taken it out to do the raffle posters. Anyways, I came back here to grab it around midnight or maybe half past. Lot was dark. Building, dark. Sure enough, my laptop was on my desk.” She pointed at it. “But then as I’m leaving, I hear a… scrape or something from the locker room. I stepped out into the hall to listen. I figured it was kids. Scuffling or rummaging, stuff getting knocked over. And then that basket rattle, like someone’s trying to get into one of the wire bins. I’m no wimp, so I called 9-1-1 for backup and went to go check it out with my flashlight.”

Cilla bristled. “That is a lie.” She raised her cuffed hands to wipe her face.

Elise gestured angrily at her. “Lo and behold, before I even turn on my light, I spot Princess Dye Job of Bony Butt here on her way out of the locker hunched over. Creeping along like a rat. Trespassing. Theft. Maybe something grosser.” She hissed at Cilla. “You’re disgusting.”

Cilla stared straight ahead. Her swollen eyes looked raw and painful.

Carver frowned in impatience. “Miss Tattersall….”

“Sorry. So I follow her. I had a pretty good idea…. Sure enough, she bends down, rattle-rattle-rattle. Our office door opens. Breaking and entering too. I think, ‘This is getting good.’ In she goes.”

“It was a perfectly innocent—”

Elise huffed in disdain. “Innocent my ass. She comes into our office here and starts rifling through our desks. Files. IDs. Pulling out drawers, tossing papers around, taking pictures of whatever. She had a big stack of files and folders already piled up on your desk. Then she gets to your locker and starts going through your… well, your stuff. Your shorts.” She lowered her eyes.

“My what?” That stopped Josh cold. “Do you mean underwear?”

“Jockstrap, actually.”

Cilla sniffed. “Lie. You planted that on me.”

“How could I?” Elise shook her head. “You had this man’s actual jockstrap in your blouse with his papers on your way out the damn door. And then she jumped me.”

“You jumped me.”

Elise sighed. “Like a meth-lab den-mom. Not surprising, I mean, look at her. Trash. Lady, they’re going to love you in prison.”

“Miss Tattersall.” Carver was getting exasperated again.

“I have no idea what she’s talking about.” Cilla scoffed and wheezed. “I was just taking some B-roll footage of the school trophies when this lunatic attacked me.”

Carver squinted. “In the middle of the night. Your crew can verify this.”

“Well… no. With my phone. I was having dinner nearby and thought I’d kill—”

“—everyone’s appetite with your snooping and sniffing of people’s privates,” Elise interrupted, indignant. “I caught her red-handed stealing private documents and student records. She was shoving your jockstrap in her bra.”