Page 87 of Did You See Evie

I go to Amber’s house first.

Beatrice might be the ringleader on the team, but I believe its Amber’s mother—Melinda Terry—who has control over most of the moms. She helped lead the charge to get Michelle Collins fired last year and has connections with Mr. Lake and other members of the school board. If I can appeal to her first, before her minions begin throwing around their opinions, maybe I can get ahead of this, like Coach Reynolds suggested.

More importantly, I believe Amber is the student most at risk. If what Beth said is true, it was Amber disguised as Evie sending messages to an adult online. Her mother deserves to know the truth, however uncomfortable that might be. There’s no telling if Amber has been messaging other men online, putting her at more risk.

I’ve only been to the Terry house once. She hosted a celebratory banquet for the girls last year. Her husband grilled out hot dogs and hamburgers while the team splashed around in their backyard pool. I’d only come because Mr. Lake had implied I should. And because Evie didn’t have a ride to the party; I hated for her to miss out.

As I approach the house, I see a large moving truck blocking the driveway. I park along the curb, looking back and forth between the near identical houses to make sure I’m at the right one.

Sure enough, Melinda exits the front door as I’m walking up. She makes a beeline for the moving truck but stops when she sees me approaching.

“Coach Cass?”

“Have I come at a bad time?” I say, watching the workers move between the truck and the garage.

“No,they’vecome at a bad time,” she says, nodding toward the truck. “They were supposed to be here last week. Keep blaming all their cancellations on the weather.”

“Amber never mentioned you were moving.”

“We’re moving to a neighborhood down the road,” she says. “Moonlight Ridge. Have you heard of it?”

I nod. It’s only the most prestigious neighborhood in all of Manning.

“Anyway, we closed on the new house last month. We’ve already moved in, but we’ve been waiting, impatiently, to get the rest of our belongings to the house. The buyers will be here by the end of the month.”

I can’t imagine this house stayed on the market long. The Terrys already lived in an equally enviable neighborhood, and by the looks of it, the place is in great shape.

“I was hoping I could talk to you,” I say.

“Like I said, my family and Amber are already at the other house?—”

“It’s probably best that it’s just the two of us,” I say.

One of the workers interrupts us by asking Melinda a question. Something about which furniture needs to go and what should be left behind. I can sense her irritation.

“Coach Cass, could we do this another time?”

I’m afraid if I wait any longer, rumors will begin to spread before we can talk. Maybe it’s better to catch her when she’s feeling flustered. It might increase her sympathy toward me.

“It’ll take five minutes,” I say.

She exhales, and I sense she’s fighting the instinct to roll her eyes. She turns to the workers. “I’ve waited more than a week to get you here. You can give me that long.”

The worker slaps his hands at his side, but Melinda ignores him, walking inside the house. I follow her. Several cardboard boxes crowd the entry, but beyond that, the space is empty and plain. All decorations and pictures on the wall are gone. Again, I wonder what the point is of leaving such a beautiful home. For something even more spectacular, I’m sure.

“Normally I’d apologize for the mess,” she says, “but as you can see, most of everything is gone.”

“That must be exciting,” I say, my eyes flitting from one bare wall to the next. I can’t imagine Melinda’s house is ever a mess, even when it’s fully furnished. “Anyway, I wanted to talk to all the parents about some information that’s come to light.”

“About Evie?”

“It really involves all the girls,” I say. “I was wanting to talk to you first. About Amber.”

Even though I’ve told her I’m here to talk about her daughter, Melinda laughs like she’s relieved and waves me off. “Don’t worry about her,” she says. “In a few months, she’ll be off to high school and out of your hair.”

“She’s not in my hair,” I say, trying to refocus the conversation. “With everything that’s been going on with Evie, I’ve unearthed more details about who the girls have been chatting with online.”

“Oh, Amber already told me about that,” she says, waving again. I’ve never noticed how much Melinda likes to talk with her hands. “Can you believe theboyshe was chatting with was really a grown adult?”

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