Phoebe could feel a breath catch in her chest.
“How big—and what’s their agenda?” she asked after a couple of seconds.
“We have no idea on either count. In fact, we’ve got little proof they actually exist. In May a student of ours showed up at a local hospital having a panic attack. She was completely hysterical. After they calmed her down, she told one of the doctors that she had once been a member of a society of girls on campus, and that they were out to get her now.”
“Does this so-called group have a name?” Phoebe asked.
“She called them the Sixes. Tom Stockton—the dean of students—went to see her, but she clammed up on him. She dropped out of school the next day.”
Phoebe shifted in her chair uncomfortably. “Are you sure this girl wasn’t just having some kind of psychotic break?”
“The doctor didn’t think so. Plus, there’s something else. Over the past year, maintenance has found the number six painted discreetly in various places—like on the foundation of Arthur Hall—but we never could figure out what it meant.”
“Wait,” Phoebe said. “Are you thinking Lily’s disappearance is tied into the Sixes somehow?”
“I don’t know. But Tom Stockton has reason to believe that Lily may be involved with the group.”
Maybe that was the mess Lily had referred to, Phoebe thought. Had she been a member for a while but then decided she wanted out?
“What are you going to do about it?” Phoebe asked.
“I’ve got a plan, but I’m afraid you may not like it.”
“What do you mean?”
“I want you to go on an information-gathering mission for me on campus,” Glenda announced. “I want you to see if this society really exists and if so, what they’re up to.”
Phoebe couldn’t hide her surprise. “What?”
“Hear me out. Even if there’s no connection between the Sixes and Lily’s disappearance, I need to shut them down. You know as well as I do how groups like this can get out of hand.”
“But isn’t that something the administration should be doing?” Phoebe said.
“Yes, that’s our responsibility, and we’ve got procedures for these things. You start with the person being harassed and move outward from there. But Tom has been unable to turn up any real proof. If there’s one thing I’ve learned about college kids, it’s that they’re very reluctant to throw any of their peers under the bus. In sensitive cases we sometimes use a person outside the administration.”
“But why would girls talk to me? That’s—”
“Oh, please, Fee. You’re not only a bloodhound when it comes to digging up info, you’re also brilliant at getting people to spill—whether it’s about their secret lives or their sordid pasts or the affairs they’ve had with their half brothers.”
“Still, I can’t just start randomly pumping people, can I?” Phoebe said, running her hand through her hair. But she knew she couldn’t say no. Besides the fact that she’d never be able to turn down Glenda—she owed her—Phoebe now felt an obligation to help the girl she’d had so little time for.
“I’ve thought of a way to handle that,” Glenda said. “You can say that I’ve tapped you to assist with the internal investigation about Lily’s disappearance. That gives you the perfect opportunity to ask questions and see where that leads you.”
“Will I be stepping on anyone’s toes—like Tom Stockton’s?”
“I don’t think so. Tom doesn’t take it personally that we hit the wall with our own investigation about the Sixes. Kids just don’t like talking to ‘the man’—and in this case it’s the administration. But you should arrange for Tom to brief you. He’s expecting your call.”
For a brief moment, Phoebe felt as if she was sinking in water or sand, but she forced herself to get a grip.
“Okay,” Phoebe said, “I’m in. I’ll need the roommate’s name and info, and contact info for this Blair Usher, too.”
There was no time to catch up on personal stuff today. Glenda said she needed to touch base with both the campus and local police before meeting with Lily’s parents. They had arrived late last night by car, and she was seeing them in an hour.
As Glenda walked Phoebe to the front hall, they found Glenda’s husband Mark buckling a bike helmet on their nine-year-old son, Brandon. Mark was striking looking, half white, half African American, with olive green eyes and skin so light that people often assumed he was white. Glenda had met him during her final year at boarding school and dated him on and off until they’d decided to marry ten years ago. He presently worked as a freelance management consultant, though Phoebe suspected he wasn’t too busy in the general Lyle area.
“Hi, guys,” Phoebe said. Brandon wrapped his arms around Phoebe in greeting. Mark offered only a nod and smile. She and Mark had never been close, but from the moment she’d arrived on campus, Phoebe had sensed a new coolness from him. She wasn’t sure why. The obvious conclusion: he thought Glenda’s professional rescue of Phoebe was potentially damaging to his wife’s stature.
“Where’s your helmet?” Glenda asked Mark.
“I’m not going with him today. He’s done these streets alone before. It’s good for him to get out there on his own.”
“But it’s Saturday morning. One of us should—”
“In a perfect world one of us would go, but we both have work to do this morning, don’t we?” He had a sarcastic tone Phoebe had never heard him use with Glenda before.
“I’d better go,” Phoebe said, feeling awkward. “I’ll start today, Glenda—and I’ll let you know tonight if I find anything.”
Brandon tugged on the strap of his helmet as if it was choking him. Phoebe gave him another hug and said good-bye to Mark. Glenda walked Phoebe to the oversize front door and swung it open.
“It means a lot to me to have you do this,” Glenda said quietly. “But if for any reason you’d rather not, just say so, okay?” She gave Phoebe a long look.
“No, I’m good,” Phoebe said quickly, pulling her anorak closed.
As she hurried down the sidewalk from Glenda’s house a few moments later, Phoebe could feel a mix of things churning inside her. There was concern—for Glenda and whatever headaches this situation might cause her, but mostly for Lily. Had the girl just taken off, trying, in her words, to escape a mess? Or had something terrible happened to her after she left the bar?
And there was also unease. The need to know had taken hold in her, as it so often did in her work, but this time, in investigating the Sixes, she would be traipsing over ground she’d sworn she’d never go near again.
She thrust her hands in her pockets, protecting them from the wind that had suddenly picked up. One hand brushed against a piece of paper, and Phoebe realized that it was the flyer about Lily that she had torn from the tree. She pulled it from her pocket and uncrumpled it.
Staring at it, she realized suddenly that it wasn’t a G that had been scrawled on Lily’s face. It was the number 6.
***
IT WAS IN January that she first sensed she was in some kind of trouble.
The school was buried under two feet of snow, and everyone on campus seemed possessed by cabin fever, glum from endless term papers, soggy boots, and the biting cold. But none of that had bothered her. She loved the boarding school and everything about it, especially in comparison to her big, sprawling high school. For her there was nothing more pleasurable than sitting cocooned in a carrel in the library, reading and writing to the muffled sounds of girls outdoors calling out to each other as they hurried across campus in the snow.