Page 84 of The Lake of Lost Girls

I shook my head and she lit one and took a long drag, blowing the smoke out the open window. I waited for her to speak, though I had a thousand questions I wanted to ask her.

“I’ve been hoping for the day these cases would be reopened and for the authorities to take the disappearances seriously. I need to know what happened to Jess. And when the police called me asking about a blanket they found with Tammy’s body, it felt like, finally, they could solve it.”

“It’s all I’ve ever wanted, too,” I told her. “It’s consumed me. I feel like I’ve lived half a life waiting for this day to come.” Daisy made it easy to confide in her. I had no doubt she was a great counselor.

I knew she understood. After all, she had been Jess’s friend. Her roommate. For a short period of time they had probably known each other better than anyone else. It was impossible to share a living space with someone and not know them intimately.

I had lost a sister, and Daisy had lost a friend.

“God, they’re back again,” Daisy groaned, watching a small group walking along the path, their phones out, obviously recording their surroundings.

“Who are they?” I asked. They appeared to be younger than me—maybe even college students themselves.

“Ever since that podcast came out, the campus has been crawling with social media hounds. Kids making videos, ambushing students and staff, trying to get interviews. It’s like they forget real people live and work here. That real women are missing.” Daisy was clearly disgusted.

“Yeah, it’s been hard to deal with,” I agreed.

“That podcast doesn’t help. They’ve emailed me at least half a dozen times, trying to get me to do an interview. As if I’d talk to a bunch of ambulance chasers,” she said with revulsion.

“If only everyone had your morals,” I muttered.

Daisy looked at me sympathetically. “Yeah, I heard my old sorority sister, Erica, spoke to them. She’s been posting about it nonstop on Facebook and Instagram for weeks. God only knows what she told them.” She pressed her lips together in consternation. “But I know it’ll be a bunch of bs. Erica and Jess weren’t close. Hell, I don’t think you can even call them friends. She doesn’t know anything about what was going on with your sister.”

“It won’t matter, it seems the lies make a better story.” We shared a look of frustrated agony.

Daisy watched the group as they headed down the hill. “It’s all entertainment to people like them—like Erica. A scary story to tell in the dark. The actual victims get lost in all the noise.Jessis getting lost. It makes me so angry.”

She picked up the phone on her desk and made a quick call to campus security, telling them about the group.

After she hung up, Daisy took another long drag of her cigarette. “We’re not really supposed to smoke in here. It’s a health-code violation and all.” She chuckled dryly. “But given the things these kids tell me, I need my vices. So, I smoke, and I let students, too, if they need it, and if the college doesn’t like it, then screw them.”

She seemed agitated, but resolved. “Southern State,” she sat back in her chair, the cigarette dangling between her fingers, “hasn’t changed much in the past twenty-four years. There’s a malignancy of silence in these institutions. The administration turns a blind eye to things they shouldn’t. Young women are abused and violated, and the school is more worried about its reputation than about any inflicted trauma.” She met my eyes, appearing determined. “That’s why I’m here, Lindsey. I won’t let them look the other way.”

She was full of righteous anger. I believed if anyone could hold this school accountable for its history of harmful secrecy, it was Daisy Molina.

“Do you know what happened to my sister?” I asked. Daisy took another drag before stubbing it out in an ashtray by the window.

“This placehappened to her.” Her face darkened. “This place and these men, and the fucked-up world we live in where a woman’s life is valued only by what she can provide to others.That’swhat happened to Jess.”

Her outrage was justifiable, but I needed concrete answers, not a speech on a soapbox.

“Daisy, can you tell me something? Anything?” I couldn’t hide my desperation. “They’ve found three girls at Doll’s Eye Lake. Jess is the only one still left missing. I’m trying to piece together what happened to her. I could wait for the police, but damn it, I’ve been waiting most of my life for answers, and it’s way past time I figured things out for myself. You knew Jess. You were her friend.Please,help me.”

It had been a long day, and it seemed there was still so much of the day left to go. I was exhausted. My head throbbed with a migraine. I hadn’t eaten since that morning, and my stomach ached with hunger. But none of that was as important as getting Daisy to talk to me.

“I’m not sure how I can help you. I was a lot less observant than I should have been back then. While girls were disappearing, I was too busy getting drunk with my sorority sisters.” She seemed appalled with the behavior of nineteen-year-old Daisy.“If I knew what happened to Jess, I would have said something. I want her found as much as you do.”

I tried not to be disappointed, but I was. I wasn’t sure what I expected, but I had hoped for … something.

Daisy regarded me kindly. “I always knew you’d come here one day asking questions.” She looked away, lighting up another cigarette. “I’ve been both hoping for and dreading it. Because I wasn’t sure what you knew about your sister—what your parents have told you. I knew she had a complicated relationship with them.”

“I know,” I agreed.

Daisy took a drag, blowing smoke out slowly. “She loved your parents, but it was … odd. Especially her relationship with your dad. It was like … she loved him, but she hated him, too. But that’s from an outsider’s perspective. My observations may be totally wrong. Hell, I come from a family that would rather take a bath in acid than give you a hug, so what do I know?” she hurried to add.

I opened my mouth to grill her further about Jess and my father, but she was still talking. Almost as if she were in a confessional and I was her priest. Her words had the note of disclosure, as though she had been holding in the truth for a long, long time.

“I have to accept the consequences of my actions. I’ve made some shitty choices. All I can say is I was young and I thought I was doing the right thing.” When she turned back to me, her eyes were bright with tears. “I wouldn’t blame you if you hated me. But you can’t hate me anymore than I already hate myself.”

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