Page 61 of Good Girls Lie
Dr. Viridian, the chemistry teacher, hurries out of Old East Hall pulling a robe around her bony shoulders. She’s been at the school for decades, taught Ford herself.
“Dean? What’s happened? Oh, my God, who is that?”
“I don’t know yet. I don’t want to roll her. Keep the girls away.”
“Someone needs to open the gate.” This from Dr. Medea, who is on duty in Old West. He is kneeling next to the girl now.
“Yes. Don’t touch her, Dominic. I think... I think I saw someone up in the bell tower. There may be evidence.”
Ford calls Security. Erik Peters, the head guard, answers. “I’m on my rounds, Dean. What’s the matter?”
“Open the gates.”
“It’s late, I’m—”
“Open them! Right now.” The wail of the siren brings cold comfort to her.
“Is that a siren?” Erik asks.
“Erik. Open the gates. Meet the ambulance and guide them to the back of Main.”
“Holy shit. Okay, I’m doing it right now.”
Medea and Viridian are whispering to each other, and she sees them start corralling the girls, pushing them back, instructing them to return to their rooms.
Ford tries to shield the body from the prying eyes of the students and teachers who are figuring out what’s happened, arms wide like a falcon over her prey. Small screams and yells break the night air.
Asolo appears, blinking sleep from her eyes. She rushes to Ford’s side, peers down at the lump at her feet.
“What’s happened? What’s happened? Oh, my God, is that Camille Shannon?”
Ford realizes, yes, it is Camille. Sweet little Camille, sophomore.
Ash Carlisle’s roommate.
“Fuck!”
“Ford, I don’t think that sort of language—”
“Go help Dominic and Phyllis. Get all the girls inside, immediately. We need to clear this area. Do a head count. I want everyone accounted for.” Asolo nods and turns, but Ford catches her elbow. “And find Ash Carlisle. Now.”
Asolo is wiping away tears. She casts a last glance at the crumpled form on the ground. “I will.”
Two fire trucks pull into the grounds, their massive gears grinding. A moment later, an ambulance blows past Peters’s golf cart, and the scene is suddenly packed with people.
Ford is moved to the side as the first responders work on the girl. Queries and statements begin.
“Did you see her fall?”
“Did you touch anything?”
“I can’t get a BP here...”
The sheriff arrives, two deputies on his trail. Ford sees a woman in jeans and a leather jacket, short blond hair and piercing dark eyes, looking like she rolled out of bed, with them.
Who is this? The sheriff’s latest floozy?
The EMTs cease their ministrations. A yellow sheet is placed over the body of Camille Shannon, and Ford realizes she’s going to have to make a very difficult phone call.
