Lara said nothing. A ringing started inside her skull.
They asked her all sorts of questions, and it just blurred. Mostly she declined to reply for fear of saying the wrong thing.
“Did Gracie spend the night here on Tuesday?”
“No.”
“On her calendar she’d marked last Tuesday, and several Tuesdays previous, with the names Lara P., B.C., and Amanda R. Who is Amanda R.?”
The ringing inside her head grew louder. She really was going to throw up. “I ... I’d cover for Gracie sometimes. She’d go out.”
“Where did she go? Why always a Tuesday?”
“I don’t know.”
“Are you sure?”
Her eyeballs kinda wanted to roll back inside her head. She pressed her shaking hands down hard on her knees. “She didn’t tell me.”
“A close friend like Gracie? She didn’t tell you?”
Lara looked down at her toes. She focused on the chipped polish, telling herself she needed a pedicure, anything to stop the noise in her head.
“What do the initials J.R. and B.C. stand for?”
She glanced up sharply, then regretted her slip. “I don’t know,” she lied.
The female cop studied her in silence, then exchanged a quick look with the male detective. He moistened his lips, walked slowly to the window, parted the drapes, and looked out into the street. Lara wondered if the Lexus was still there. The female cop consulted her notebook. “And what about John Jacks?”
She shook her head. “I don’t know anyone by that name.”
“Do you know where Gracie went instead of to choir practice last Thursday?”
“No.”
“You were at that practice?”
She nodded.
The detective leaned forward. “Are you certain that you don’t know a John Jacks? Because Gracie has been seeing him for a while, according to her mother. He drives a small, black BMW. Does that jog your memory? Maybe he gave her a lot of really nice, expensive gifts, or he bought her a pair of Francesco Milano boots, for example?” The cop paused. “Gracie Drummond was wearing those boots when she was attacked, Lara. They’re at the forensics lab with her clothing.”
“Oh God ... I ... I ...” Tears spilled suddenly down her face, and she couldn’t stop them.
“Talk to me, Lara. What can you tell me about John Jacks?”
“I ... uh ... It’s—it was—more like an informal thing he had with Gracie.”
“Where will we find him?”
“I don’t know where he lives.”
“He’s a member of the Oak Bay Country Club. Isn’t that where Gracie met him? While she was watching Rick Butler play tennis, before Rick broke up with her?”
Lara wiped her face with her sleeve. “I think so. Rick would know more.”
“Why are you keeping information from the police? Who are you trying to protect?”
The ringing in her brain grew so loud that she felt dizzy. She was going to faint. The cop’s voice sounded very far away, and Lara couldn’t hear what she was saying any longer.
