“She wrote that note,” Nia mumbled. “Stay away from my sister, or I’ll kill you. She would have done it too. Would have killed him herself. I needed to warn him. If I drove, I’d be faster.”
“Did you go to Cal’s apartment that night?”
Her answer was rough, uneven breathing.
“Nia, did you go to Cal’s place that night?”
Her eyes were glassy.
Theo felt it, the invisible connection they were on the edge of unearthing. It was like reading a play or a novel or a poem and sensing the outline of something, knowing you just had to excavate it. How could it be a coincidence that the same night Deja died, Cal Reese went missing? “You did. You were there. You were at Cal’s place that night. Let me tell you how I think it happened: the night Deja died, you and Cal fought, and you killed him. You were arguing about a lot of things—the drugs, how he favored Deja. But mostly you hated him because you envied Deja. And now, the dealer who supplied you and Cal has decided you’re a little too crazy to keep as a customer, and she’s decided to get rid of you.”
Nia’s eyes were half-closed.
“Well?” Theo said.
“I don’t even know her name,” she mumbled. “I thought I saw her. Cal called her the White Rabbit. Don’t know why Cal didn’t see it coming. He was mad. I was mad. I wanted him to die; he deserved to die.” She sucked in a deep breath, aspirated saliva, and coughed. Her whole body contorted with the effort, and pain from the gunshot wound made her eyes bright and wild. Auggie sat next to her, supporting her with one arm until the coughing eased. Then he helped her lie down again.
“Why did Cal deserve to die?” Auggie asked.
“He took Deja away from me. Turned us against each other. I was never as good as Deja. If I won, it was luck. If I lost, it was because I didn’t work hard enough. But Deja—always doing things exactly right, just the way he wanted. When we talked on the phone, he was so mad. Wanted to know how I could ruin everything for him. Wanted to know how I could risk that. I wanted to say a few things myself. I wanted him to know he put those pills in my hand. The minute I knew I couldn’t be what he wanted me to be, not without some help, he might as well have put those pills in my hand himself. The White Rabbit was always there, but all Cal was worried about was the money.” She tried to sit up. “He didn’t even congratulate me when I signed my letter of intent with Wroxall. Didn’t even look at me when I told him. When Nicki got her letter from one of those Indiana schools, though, he threw her a party. All he cared about was the money.” Her eyes shut to slits again.
“She’s exhausted,” Auggie whispered.
“What money?” Theo asked. “Auggie, wake her up.”
“Theo, she’s—”
“Right now.”
Auggie shook Nia’s arm and spoke into her ear. When her eyes came open, nobody was home.
“What money?” Theo asked. “Cal cared about the money, that’s what you said. What money?”
“They got a new car,” she said in that flat, droning voice. “Indiana temporary tag.”
“Who’s the White Rabbit?”
But her eyes shut again.
“Wake her up.”
“No.”
Scratching at his beard, Theo shifted his weight. “Wake her up, Auggie.”
“No. She’s exhausted. She’s hurt. She can’t think clearly.”
“We don’t have time to coddle her. I want to ask—”
“I said no.” Auggie stood from where he perched on the mattress. “We’re done for right now.”
The sun painted half of his face. That expressive mouth was a tight, hard line. He looked older. Then, touching his temple, he winced, and he was just Auggie again.
Theo nodded, and they left.
13
On the Uber ride to the police station, neither of them spoke at first, which was a relief. The headache had turned into a thunderstorm, and Auggie struggled to think through it. Looking at his phone made him feel like he had shards of glass in his eyes, and requesting the ride had made his head hurt so badly that he’d almost gotten sick in the hospital lobby. Now he lay with his head against the seat, his eyes closed, smelling the faint hint of cigarette smoke on their driver, a skinny white boy with a Bob Marley tattoo on his nape.
“Do you really think it was the dealer?” Auggie asked over the instrumental music playing on the car’s speakers. Braveheart, maybe? “I don’t know if that makes sense. Nothing seems to make sense.”
“I think Nia wasn’t telling us everything. She can claim that Cal made her feel pressured to improve her performance, but she admitted that he didn’t want her using. If someone had learned that Cal and Wayne’s athletes were doping, that would have been the end of them professionally. And the sibling rivalry thing bothers me. Something really hinky was going on there.”
“Like with Genesis.”
“Yes, exactly. If Cal was also in a relationship like that with Deja or Nia or both, I could definitely see the sibling rivalry thing escalating to a jilted-lover murder.”
The Braveheart soundtrack got louder, and the front seat squeaked. Apparently the white boy with the Bob Marley tattoo didn’t want to be liable for anything he overheard.
“No,” Auggie said, “I mean, Genesis’s dad and brother were talking about money too. A lot of money.”
“Fifteen thousand dollars isn’t a lot of money.”
“Says the guy who can’t afford a new air conditioner.” Wincing, Auggie pressed his face against the glass, grateful for the cool. “I could definitely use fifteen thousand dollars.”
“The problem is that they stood to make a lot more from the civil suit. They wanted him alive, not dead. Nia on the other hand—”
“Nia couldn’t have shot herself during the middle of her own speech.”
“The White Rabbit could have shot her.”
“Sadie? Why? To cover up the fact that she was selling steroids? That’s piddly stuff, Theo. The shooter took a huge risk last night, and it required planning, timing, and a cool head. Do you really think that sounds like a tweaker who hangs around a private gym and sells roids? Besides, it’s a weak motive. Whoever did this is capable, yes, but he’s also got a serious motive.” After a moment, Auggie added, “Or he’s crazy.”
The Braveheart music got even louder. This track had a lot of bagpipes, which felt to Auggie like the acoustical equivalent of a Phillip’s head in the ear canal.
When Theo spoke again, his voice was thoughtful. “Kickbacks to trainers and coaches aren’t exactly uncommon. Every few years, there’s another scandal, and everybody has to act shocked and surprised that big universities and professional teams are offering financial incentives. Some of it goes to the athletes, but the smart teams understand that a coach or trainer usually has a lot of pull, and so they’ll court the coach too: lavish vacations, generous donations to the local team’s fundraising efforts, a cushy consulting job.”