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“I . . . Someone from CPS, I’m sure. Or one of us took her to her new family. I don’t know. I’m not certain I was here, I mean right here, when she left. I don’t understand.”
“I want to see your copy of her paperwork on the court order, the release papers.”
“Oh my, that may take just a little doing. It was years ago, as I said, and during the upheaval of the move. I’ll have to look for it.”
“Yeah, you will.”
The smile turned into a firm, flat line. “No need to be testy, young lady. We keep all records, but it would be archived. Fifteen-year-old records aren’t something we have at our fingertips. Why would we when . . .”
Eve watched her put it together, saw the mild insult turn to sick realization. “Shelby? She was one of the . . . One of them?”
“I need to see the paperwork.”
“I’ll find it!” She jogged off on her sensible shoes, shouting for an assistant to pull up the archives.
“Get an earful, Quilla?” Eve asked without turning around.
Quiet as a snake, Quilla glided down the stairs.
“I’m a challenge, too.”
“Good for you.”
“Hey, somebody punched you in the face.”
“That’s right. Now she’s in a cage thinking about how much time she’ll get for assaulting a police officer.”
“In the face is a bitch,” Quilla commented with the casual knowledge of one who’d been there often enough to know. “So anyway, everybody’s talking about the dead girls. The wardens closed themselves up in the office for like an hour.”
“Wardens?”
“They might as well be. It’s like half past zero around here with Matron crying and everybody has to make these black bands for their arms even though we didn’t know any of the dead girls, and they’ve been dead already forever. Then we’re stuck with extra meditation so we can help their spirits cross over.”
“Cross over where?”
Quilla circled her finger toward the ceiling. “Or wherever. I fucking hate meditation. It’s boring. Plus I heard Mr. Jones say—” She broke off, glanced toward the stairs.
“Say what?”
“Hey, Ms. Brigham,” Quilla said.
“Hi, Quilla.” Seraphim appeared at the top of the stairs. “Lieutenant, Detective,” she said as she continued down. “Is anyone helping you?”
“Matron Shivitz is getting us some files.”
“We’re all a little off our stride today.” She stroked a hand down Quilla’s shoulder. “Quilla, aren’t you supposed to be in class?”
“Maybe. I saw them hanging here and didn’t want them to have to just stand around.”
“That’s very polite and thoughtful. I’ve got it from here, you go on to class.”
“Okay.” She slanted Eve a look before she scurried off.
“She’s curious,” Seraphim began. “Most of the kids are. It’s all more mysterious and exciting to them than tragic. It’s a normal reaction for the age. Though I’m told a couple of the more sensitive girls had nightmares last night.”
“You didn’t tell the matron about Shelby being identified.”
“No. I didn’t tell anyone, was I supposed to? I’m sorry,” she continued before Eve could speak. “I’m so used to keeping a confidence, I just kept it to myself.
