Page 49 of Little Buried Secrets

As Rae sat back down, she jerked her head back like the question had surprised her. “Why are you asking about him?”

The hard part of the conversation had commenced, and it was about to get even harder.

“I heard there were a couple of instances where Coach Warren made Margot feel uncomfortable,” I said.

Rae raised a brow. “Are you serious? In what way?”

“He hugged her once after they lost a game, and Margot felt the hug went on for too long. He also had a one-on-one session with her to help her improve her serve. According to Margot’s friends, he had his body up against hers. It creeped her out, so to speak.”

“I know about the private session, but I don’t know any of the details from that day. What I don’t know is … where are you getting this information?”

From behind us, I heard, “Yeah, I was just about to ask the same question. Whoever is telling you this stuff about Coach Warren is a liar.”

I turned.

Bronte’s eyes bored into mine like a bull ready to charge.

Whitlock stood behind her, looking apologetic for not keeping her away longer.

“I can’t discuss how I came by the information yet,” I said. “I also want to add, I haven’t spoken to Coach Warren to get his side of the story.”

“Here’s a thought … maybe you should talk to him first before you slander his name, accusing him of something he didn’t do,” Bronte spat out.

There were so many things on the tip of my tongue to say in response, none of which was appropriate to utter in this moment—or any other—so I stayed quiet.

“Coach Warren also teaches math,” Bronte said. “I’ve taken his class. He’s a good guy. He’s not a pervert.”

“I’m just telling your mother what I’ve been told,” I said. “And just so you know, I haven’t spoken to anyone else about what I’ve heard.”

Yet.

“Give up your source,” Bronte demanded. “Who’s saying this stuff?”

“I can’t discuss it right now.”

“Then you shouldn’t be talking about him at all, should you?” Bronte said.

It struck me as odd that she was so invested in Coach Warren’s innocence just like Margot’s friends seemed to be.

“Coach Warren has never said anything he shouldn’t have or done anything he shouldn’t have,” Bronte said. “If you think someone as nice as him is a suspect, you must not be very good at your job.”

“Bronte Grace Remington!” Rae said. “That’s enough.”

Bronte tossed her hands in the air. “What? I’m just being honest.”

I rose from my chair, intending to step outside for a moment before I could no longer contain my words, and Whitlock sidled up next to me.

He faced Bronte and said, “Georgiana is an excellent detective. If she suspects someone, she has good reason. I’m sure it’s not easy to trust her, or to trust me. But believe me when I say, we are doing everything we can to solve this case.”

“Whatever,” Bronte said. “I’m outta here.”

She grabbed a set of keys off a metal key holder on the wall and took off for the front door. Rae called after her, but a second later, the door slammed, and the house went quiet.

Whitlock glanced at each of us in turn and said, “I was just about to head out, but maybe I should stay.”

“I’m all right,” I said. “There are a few more things I need to discuss with Rae.”

“I’ll leave you to it, then,” he said. “You ladies have a good night.”

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