Page 80 of Good Girls Lie
It is not forthcoming.
47
THE MOTHERS
Ford is beyond relieved when Tony and his niece release her from their attentions. It is almost five in the morning now. Camille’s body is being transported to Charlottesville, the diary has been taken into evidence along with Ash’s torn shirt, and Ford has been given permission to call Camille’s mother.
Deirdre Shannon is clearly in shock when she answers the phone. She is not crying; her voice sounds frozen, robotic, almost. She’s probably been given something to calm her. Though she sounds anything but calm as she starts the rapid-fire questioning.
“Dean? What happened? They told me they think Camille committed suicide. Is that right? Was she upset? I haven’t heard from her in a few days but she seemed fine when I talked to her last. She’s had such a hard semester with the terrible flu bug she’s been suffering from. Just tell me what you know.”
The flu? That’s what she’d told her mother. Oh, boy.
“Deirdre, she was pregnant, and had an abortion. Were you aware?”
By the gasp, it’s clear she isn’t. “Oh, Ford. No.”
“It seems she had a chemical abortion. Pills. Virginia law dictates a family member over eighteen give consent, there’s no way she could get them without a prescription, an ultrasound. She had to have been to a doctor or clinic. If you weren’t involved—”
“I didn’t know. It had to be her sister, then. Wait until I get my hands on Emily.” The threat hangs in the air, shimmering. Emily Shannon was head girl last year. Head of Ivy Bound. Smart, responsible. A solid Goode citizen. It’s not a stretch to think Camille would go to her if she were in trouble.
“I’m trying to be delicate here, but do you have any idea who the father might be?”
A breath. A pause. Finally, Deirdre says, “Yes and no. She was seeing someone this summer, I do know that, but she refused to tell me who. Said it was a boy she’d met at school. I asked how serious they were, whether she was planning to have sex with him. She told me she’d decided against it, but I’m no dummy, I know what we were like at her age. Lest you think me totally oblivious and irresponsible, I did take her to the OB-GYN, put her on birth control. The pill. Just in case. It appears I was too late. Or she didn’t take them.”
“Ah. A boy she met at school—so it could be someone from one of the all-boys schools around here. Woodberry Forest is the closest, and the one Goode has the most events with.”
“Possibly. She’s mentioned having fun at the dances. It was someone she was seeing at home, though, I get the sense. But, Ford, do you think she was upset over having an abortion? I would think she’d be relieved. I know that sounds callous, but she’s sixteen, for heaven’s sake. It would have ruined her life.” A beat. “Was sixteen.”
And then she breaks, the tears and the wails and the moans, and Ford hangs on to the phone and takes it all in. She owes it to Deirdre and to Camille. She owes it to them all.
She has failed. She has failed. She has failed.
When Deirdre gathers herself, Ford tells her the rest. “We are investigating the entire situation, how she came to be on the bell tower, which is always locked, what might have driven her there. Why she didn’t reach out for help. The sheriff is running the investigation, but I’m looking into things here. I know we want to keep this private if possible.”
“What about her roommate? That British girl? Camille said she’d been thinking about asking to move to a different room. I know they didn’t get along.”
“I wasn’t aware they were having issues. Normally the girls are quite open with me about their personal problems. But the police did find Camille’s journal, and she said some very unkind things about Ash. I suppose it stands to reason—Oh, Deirdre, I am so sorry. I just don’t have any good answers for you right now. But we will continue talking. Let me know what Emily says. Anything she can share will help. We can at least get an idea of who Camille was seeing and find out if something happened with the relationship that made her want to hurt herself.”
“I do know she hadn’t seen him in a while. I asked, and she told me they’d broken up. I got the sense it was a quick thing, nothing terribly special. Honestly, she could have come to me, I would have helped her. She’s my daughter, I love her.”
“I know you do, Deirdre. I am so sorry.”
“Ford, I want you to look closely at her roommate. This Ash girl. I—Well, to be honest, when Camille said she was rooming with a girl from out of the country, I was a bit concerned. I told Howard, and he had a dossier drawn up. It had some very disturbing details. You know about the brother, yes? The suspicions about how he died? And her parents—”
“You did a background check on one of my students? Deirdre, you know we handle these things in-house. I found nothing to give me pause. Yes, I am aware of the circumstances that bring Ash to us and trust me, she is a gentle, pliable girl. Devastated by the loss of Camille, too.”
“Yes, well, girls do lie, Ford, you know they do. And in light of the situation, now aren’t you glad we did a more thorough search? News of the parents’ deaths was very upsetting to Camille. Not to mention the younger brother. She didn’t understand why her roommate wouldn’t tell her. And she has been using a false name. That girl has lost a lot of people. Now my daughter is dead, too.”
Deirdre’s voice is getting louder, stronger, more intense with every sentence. Ford is horrified by the implication that she is somehow neglectful, responsible for Camille’s death, simply by bringing Ashlyn Carr to Goode.
“Deirdre, really. This isn’t a path worth following. Ash and I discussed the name change at length and decided it was for the best. She didn’t want her parents’ deaths defining her here at Goode. Didn’t want to be openly rehashing it over and over. I can’t blame her. Truly, her desire for privacy is understandable. And I don’t think Ash’s personal situation has any bearing on Camille’s suicide. The circumstances of an unwanted pregnancy alone shed a great deal of light on Camille’s state of mind, not to mention breaking up with the boy who got her pregnant. It’s a fraught situation.”
Ford can hear whispers in the background, someone talking to Deirdre. Coaching her? Are they on speakerphone? Who’s been listening to her trying to comfort this grieving mother? What has she said that can be used against her, against the school?
“I know my daughter, Ford. I know her well. If she was depressed enough to consider suicide, she would have reached out to me. I feel it in my heart.” Deirdre clears her throat, and the broken mother is gone, replaced by the steely prosecutor. “And because of this, we will be recommending an independent investigation.”
Ford tries to continue sounding conciliatory. “That is certainly your right, Deirdre, but believe me, we’re looking into this. The sheriff has taken Camille’s body to Charlottesville for autopsy, and—”
