“We’ve been bombarded with calls, too.”
“It’s so hard, but it’s understandable. Right?”
“It’s the reporters who are the worst,” she says.
“They’ve been calling me nonstop, too. Some of them are asking about this ... this recruiting scandal thing? Randy never mentioned a word about that to me.”
“He didn’t?”
“No, and I, well, I thought that maybe someone there, at your school, could talk to me about that to help me process. It’s so awful, to know that he was targeted like that and to not understand the kinds of things he was wrapped up in.” My own words ring in my ears andremind me again of Linda’s assumptions about my character. “Did you know him well?”
“A little. We dated once.”
“Oh.”
Crap. Becca might be a littletoofamiliar with Randy.
“It was a while ago. It never went anywhere, but we were pretty good friends.”
“That’s right. I think he mentioned you.”
“He did?”
“Yeah, but like you said, it’s been a while.”
“It has.” She sighs again. “I was mad at him at first. You know, your brother could be quite the player.”
“I hope he didn’t hurt you.”
“No, it was fine.” She’s brushed it off, but I can tell she wasn’t over him.
“What exactly was Randy’s role in this scandal thing that the FBI keeps asking me about? I don’t understand. Was he more involved than the head coach?”
“I wouldn’t know about that, even if he was.”
I don’t believe her. She seems well plugged in. “Yeah, I’m sure the higher-ups have kept a tight lid on it.”
“They have,” she says, and sighs loudly.
“What?” I push.
“Nothing,” she says. “It’s, well, for years, we’ve run this place like a tight ship and rarely ever had a glitch. It was such a pleasant place to work. And now, for the past two years, it’s been crazy. We finally put that recruiting thing to rest, and then the Petronis thing happens, and now, for God’s sake, one of our very own coaches is the target of aserial killer. You couldn’t even write that in a book and have someone believe it. How does that happen, for goodness’ sake? Hopefully, bad luck really does come in three and we’re done now. But gosh, I’m sorry. Here I am droning on about our problems when your family—”
“It’s okay,” I say, tingeing my voice with as much sorrow as I can muster. “I’m sure things will get better from here on out for your school. But you mentioned the second thing. The Petronis thing?” I google the namePetronisplus the school’s name while I ask. A few social media hits and other links, including an obituary, pop up. “What was that about?”
She goes quiet, as if she realizes she’s said too much, and I think she’s going to cut the call short, but she adds, “He didn’t tell you about it?”
“No. I mean, we didn’t talk as much as we should have. Just every few months. You know? Siblings. It’s something I wanted to change, and now ...” I let my voice falter like I’m too choked up to go on.
“So much tragedy,” Becca adds with a thick voice like she might cry herself.
“With this Petronis thing, too?”
“Oh God, yes. It was another very sad thing. A student took his own life.”
“Oh.” I pause for dramatic effect. “Yes, maybe Randy did mention that. How that rocked the school and the community.” I scan the articles that have loaded on my screen and see an obituary for Ryan Petronis. “So, so sad,” I say, scrolling farther down and stopping at a photo of the boy in a football uniform. Such a little guy. “He played football, right?”
“Yeah, he did.”
