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She wrapped her arms around her body, running her hands up and down as if freezing to the bone, although the sun was high and the air was warm, loaded with the scents of summer. Standing in place for a long moment, she watched them getting ready to leave.
Elliot had started the engine when Kay’s cell rang. She didn’t recognize the number, but it was local. Because of Renaldo’s presence in the back seat, she got out of the SUV and took the call, holding the phone tightly against her ear.
“Detective Sharp? Hi, it’s Mackenzie Trenton, Jenna’s best friend. You said I should call if I think of anything.”
Kay walked briskly away from the vehicle until she was out of earshot. “Yes, hi, Mackenzie. What do you have?”
“I just thought of something I didn’t realize sooner or I didn’t pay attention to. Kendra had recently become the subject of gossip too, but minor things, nothing serious. Not like Jenna.”
“What kind of minor things? Do you remember some examples?” Kay rubbed her aching forehead with the tips of her fingers. Sometime in the past hour, the threatening cloud of a migraine had engulfed her head.
Mackenzie hesitated for a moment. “Like dating two guys at the same time,” she laughed nervously. “This is high school, you know. It’s not unheard of. And wearing her pants commando-style.” Another moment of silence. “Um, there were whispers she’d had a complete Brazilian done. You know, waxing,” she blurted in an uncomfortable whisper. “I didn’t know if this means anything, but I remember now that’s how it started with Jenna too. Innocent stuff at first, almost just for laughs… of course, if you’re not the target of it. Then, I guess, it’s not that funny.” Her voice had turned somber, heavy under the threat of grief.
“Tell me about Richard Gaskell,” Kay asked. “What kind of person is he?”
“He’s okay, I guess. No one likes everyone, right?” Another nervous snicker. “He’s the team quarterback, which makes him sort of a superstar, but he’s a little harsh for my taste. Always hitting on girls, not always in a good way. Well, all the boys kinda hit on us all the time, but he’s too serious about it. He doesn’t have much of a sense of humor, I guess. He’s too intense.” She breathed loudly into the microphone as if tired after speaking so quickly.
“Could he have started the rumors about Jenna?”
“Who, Richard?” She scoffed. “No… he’s too butch for that. The way the rumors were worded when I heard them first, and now that I know they weren’t true, I promise you they were started by a girl, not a boy.”
“What makes you so sure?”
“Boys are… simple.” A snicker.
Kay couldn’t refrain from smiling, amazed how Mackenzie had already discovered the secret to men’s psychology, and she wasn’t even of age yet. If she managed to remember her discovery throughout her life, she stood a great chance to find the elusive happiness in relationships that most women chased but never found.
Menaresimple. Even the smartest of men would not bother with the intricacies of thought and speculation women enjoyed so much.
If a man would’ve wanted Jenna discredited, he would’ve probably whispered rumors to other men about blow jobs and hand jobs, about how many times she came during sex, and other such obscenities.
She thanked Mackenzie and ended the call, then joined Elliot in the SUV, wondering again who could’ve started the gossip attack on Jenna, and why. A girl made a lot more sense; the thought had crossed her mind before. But whom? There were several girls in Jenna’s class she hadn’t interviewed yet, and who might’ve been great candidates. Once the phone records came back, she’d know exactly whom to question.
The why, that was simple. Jealousy rose to the top of the list as motive for a slew of petty crimes committed by women. Statistically, jealousy ruled. It was at the top of the list, unchallenged, followed at a distance by more mundane reasons like money, drugs, anger, and so on.
Soon, they’d know, when the money trail behind that website was exposed.
FORTY-FIVE
INTERVIEW
Jealousy. A powerful motive.
But jealousy over whom? Jenna had a boyfriend at the time the smear attack had started. Tim Carter. Elliot had interviewed him and found him to be heartbroken over Jenna’s death, blaming himself for abandoning her when she’d been cyberbullied, for believing those lies. The fact that Tim had been honest as a boyfriend albeit a misguided one, didn’t mean some girl wasn’t jealous over him.
Kay didn’t remember high school fondly, although there had been good times too. It seemed that technology had warped the way kids interacted with one another. A bully no longer shoved someone against a wall or tripped them to take a fall and scrape a knee in a roar of merciless laughter. Bullies could be lethal, armed with social media, the internet, and the most dangerous of all words: “forward.” Before social media, the wildfire of gossip took weeks to spread, because people actually had to meet with one another to talk about things. Rumors took longer to spread, and died after a while, forever forgotten, run out of fuel. These days, a rumor that landed on someone’s social media page could be forwarded to thousands of others in a matter of seconds, and the digital footprint it left in cyberspace was permanent. All it took was one image, one link, or one comment to ruin a life forever.
Social media had empowered the bullies.
However, all cyberbullies left traces online, and she would find this one even if she had to peel away every layer of chitchat that filled these kids’ lives with meaningless garbage, to get to the bottom if it.
That had to wait, though.
Kendra was still out there, and the second unsub was seated only a few feet away, in the interview room, looking like he was about to burst into tears under the unrelenting glare of his mother.
Standing behind the two-way mirror, Kay studied Renaldo in detail. He was pale and seemed to shiver every now and then. Following her instructions, the deputies had left the handcuffs on and chained them to the table. Every now and then, his shoulders heaved, burdened by long, shattered breaths. She would’ve loved to let him stew for a few hours, but Kendra didn’t have the luxury of time.
She entered the interview room and sat across from Renaldo, placing the case file she’d brought on the scratched stainless-steel table with slow, deliberate moves. Mrs. Cristobal looked at her with terror in her swollen eyes. Her eyelids and nose were red, irritated by tears and frequent wiping. She held a tissue crumpled tightly in her hand and probably needed a fresh one.
