Expecting to Die

her high drama stunts to gain attention? It would be just like her! Tell your
mom not to be fooled!
While she was zipping up a pair of boots, Rod Devlin private messaged her:
I’m worried about Linds. What if something happened to her? What’s your
mom say?
And on and on. Making her more nervous than she was before, and that was
pretty nervous. She still had the uncanny sensation that she was being watched.
Wherever she went, she had this feeling that someone was observing her and
waiting. For what? She couldn’t guess. Nor did she know who it was or even if
he existed. Maybe she was making it all up, her mind going a little crazy after
finding Destiny’s body. She probably should see a shrink.
Or maybe everyone else should just leave her alone. All of her acquaintances,
from Austin Reece to Bryant Tophman and Simone Delaney, were all over her.

---

Bianca was beginning to think the whole group was a bunch of morons. Even
Seneca Martinez, who had been her friend since before they’d started school, left
her a text: I’m really worried about Linds. In fact, I’m weirded out by
everything that’s going on. Your mom will catch whoever did this, tho’.
Right? And soon?
Bianca sure as hell hoped so. She touched up her lip gloss, decided her messy
bun was good enough, and headed downstairs in her ungainly brace. She didn’t
like the pressure and she hated the dreams that haunted her sleep. Nagging
nightmares where the players changed. Sometimes she was with kids from
school, other times she was in a group of the Big Foot Believers, and once she
was even at the old preschool, Good Feelings. But the kids weren’t toddlers any
longer. They were teenagers who smoked and drank and swore and had sex
while the preschool teacher, Miss Love, freaked out and tried to put them all in
time-outs, where they continued their bad behavior.
She’d woken up from that one with a headache. The dream had receded, but it
had left her with a vivid image of making out with Austin Reece, which totally
grossed her out. In the dream, she’d really been into the make-out session, turned
on to the point of considering sex with him.
As if that would ever happen.
Ugh!
If that was what was in her subconscious, her brain was a very scary place.
* * *
Hoping to have a one-on-one with Austin Reece, Alvarez drove to his parents’
home, a huge, sprawling stone house in a gated community that bordered the one
private country club in Grizzly Falls. She’d gotten through the gate by showing
her ID to a guard, who called and warned whoever was at the Reece home that
she was coming.
She’d met Austin’s father in the ornate, two-story foyer. Stiff backed, thick
hair prematurely gray, wearing rimless glasses and a polo shirt and pressed
slacks, Bernard Reece allowed her inside but didn’t move from the marbled main
hallway. He stated firmly that he would not allow his son to be interviewed
unless he or another attorney was present during the questioning.
“I think I’ve made it crystal clear that Austin isn’t going to speak with you or
anyone else from your department alone. I know how this works.”
There was no arguing. She tried. Got nowhere. “Then bring him into the
station tomorrow. Early,” she suggested and kept her tone even, her gaze direct.
“Sit in.”

---

“I have an appointment early in the morning. Nine o’clock.”
“Not a problem. I’m up early. Let’s make it seven.”
His lips flattened a bit. “I’ll be busy. As I am now.”
“Then don’t come. But I’ll be there, and if Austin doesn’t show up, it won’t be
good. As you said, you ‘know how this works.’ ”
His eyes flashed for a second. Then one side of his mouth lifted as if he were
amused. “A threat?” he said, before holding up a hand to cut off any response.
“No, don’t tell me: a promise. Just like on television.”
“Yeah, that’s right. We’re just like the TV cops.” She sent him a hard stare.
“Tomorrow.”
She drove away wondering what Bernard Reece was hiding. What did he
know about his kid that made him so wary? Was it because he was a lawyer and,
as such, was inherently suspicious, or was there more to the story? Did he
suspect that his Ivy League−bound boy was in the kind of trouble that would
alter the course of his life, turn all those gilded dreams to rubble?
She thought about Reece all the way to Missoula, where she located Veronica
Palermo’s apartment building three blocks off campus. The parking lot was
dusty, the asphalt crumbling in places, lines for spaces having long faded. L-
shaped and flat-roofed, the two stories of the Campus Court Apartments were
painted a peeling gunmetal gray. Along each level ran covered porches where a
few old aluminum deck chairs, coolers, and wooden crates used as tables had
been set on the concrete around the doorways.
Alvarez parked near a fenced area that was intended to hide the garbage bins,
but the broken gate and the Dumpster with its open lid and trash mounding to the
point of overflowing gave the secret away.
Donny Justison’s college friend’s apartment was located on the second level.
Alvarez climbed the chipped concrete steps, knocked on the door, and heard a
flurry of footsteps. Seconds later, the door opened, and a girl of about nineteen
stood in frayed jean shorts and a pink tank top that showed off black bra straps.
Her auburn hair was wet and she was wearing no makeup.
“I’m looking for Veronica Palmero.”
“I’m her. Who’re you?”
Alvarez introduced herself and showed her badge. Veronica carefully looked
at her ID, determined she was legit, and led her inside a flat that smelled of
lingering cigarette smoke mingled with the distinct odor of marijuana. Dirty
dishes were stacked on the counters and piled in the sink, and clothes, including
a big pair of men’s shorts, were scattered over a cheap brown carpet. “Look I
don’t have much time,” Veronica said. “I’ve got to get dressed for work.”
“This won’t take long. I just have a few questions about Destiny Montclaire. I

---

know you already spoke to a deputy, but I’d like to clear up a few things.”
“That bitch?” She waved Alvarez inside and took a seat, cross-legged, on a
worn gray couch. “I already told that deputy guy who came here all I know,
which is nothing. I never even met the chick.”
“I just need to clarify a few things.”
“Go ahead and sit down, but this has gotta be short.” She pointed to a chair
that looked as if something had recently been spilled upon it, and instead sat on a
mustard-colored ottoman.
Alvarez remained standing. “You’re living here alone?”
“For now. Jessica—my roommate, Jessica Tanaka?— she went home for the
summer. Works for her dad, but I stayed on to keep this place. I work and am
taking two classes this summer.”
“And you know Donny Justison?”
She gave Alvarez the “duh” look. “He’s only my boyfriend.”
“So, you’re close.”
She crossed her fingers and held them up for Alvarez to inspect. “We’re like
this. We tell each other everything,” she said as a scrawny tabby cat trotted from
the hallway and hopped onto the back of the couch. Veronica stroked it and then
waxed euphoric about Donny, the mayor’s son, the athlete, the “sweetest guy on
the planet, and I mean it.” She gladly answered questions about Donald Justison
Junior, and admitted that they were “deeply involved,” and “in love,” and
“would probably get married.”
“Really?”
“Oh, sure. We’re soul mates,” she said, nodding her head sagely. “But not ’til
after we graduate, though. My folks would kill me if I didn’t finish up with my
degree first.”
“You called Destiny Rose Montclaire a bitch.”
“Because she was one.” Again, the bobblehead nod. “I hate to talk bad about
the dead, y’know, but she was like the worst.” She glanced at a fish tank
mounted on a small table near an older television. “Oh.” She scrambled to her
feet, grabbed a can of fish food sitting on the TV, opened it, and tossed a handful
of fish food into the water. A dozen tetras flashed to the surface, the water
roiling. “How are you, guys?” she said to the fish. “Sorry. I know Mommy’s
gone and Aunt Ronnie forgot.” She actually made fish faces into the smudged
glass.
Secretly Alvarez wondered how she would ever graduate. She asked, “How?”
“Huh?” Veronica glanced over her shoulder.
“How was Destiny Montclaire the worst?”
“Everybody knew it. Destiny was always calling and texting and messaging

---

Donny. Bitching him out, you know. No wonder he broke up with her. She, like,
couldn’t get it that it was O-V-E-R.”
“Did you know that he met her on the day she went missing, before her body
was found?”
She couldn’t suppress a telltale jerk of surprise. “He was with me that day.”
Alvarez paused. “Do you know what day that was?”
“Uh-huh. That Friday. Donny was—we were together—” She snapped closed
the lid of the fish food.
Everything about the girl said she was lying. “Did you know she was
pregnant?”
“The baby wasn’t his. You know that. Donny told me he gave up his DNA and
you guys tested him and that baby wasn’t his.” She said it as if the fact that he
wasn’t the father of Destiny’s baby absolved him from any sin, including the fact
that he’d likely been cheating on each of them with the other. She set the small
can back on the table and scowled, but any further questions Alvarez asked
didn’t produce any more information.
Even before Veronica had started lying, Alvarez had realized Veronica
wouldn’t be much help in ferreting out the truth. She was just too much in love
with Donny, and she didn’t seem to think that lying to the police was a problem,
no matter how many times Alvarez tried to impress upon her the importance of
the truth.
No, Veronica would defend Donny to the death and provide alibis whether
they were true or not. But Donny Justison knew more than he was saying,
Alvarez was sure of it. He’d already lied to them; she felt it in her bones.