Page 24 of Alex Cross Must Die

“I’ll drive you to the station,” said Finn.

“And add another DWI to your sheet?” said Marple, her lips slightly numb. “No thanks. I’ll walk.”

Finn nodded and braced one arm against a storefront. “Good to see you, Maggie,” he said.

“You too,” said Marple. “Believe it or not, you’ve actually given me useful information. Exactly what I came for.”

“I’d hug you good-bye,” said Finn, “but you’d have grease prints all over you.”

“In that case,” said Marple, “just blow me a kiss.”

CHAPTER 23

AT TEN THIRTYthe next morning, Marple stepped out of an Uber in front of Saint Celeste’s, an all-girls school a few miles north of Manhattan. The campus was classically gorgeous, with groomed lawns and stately brick architecture—fitting for one of the most exclusive prep schools in the state.

Marple had timed her arrival for the midmorning break. The manicured grounds were filled with roving clusters of students in matching plaid skirts and white polos, mostly untucked and draped insouciantly over the hip.

“Wait for me right here,” Marple told the driver.

Marple spotted a group of three students walking toward her on the sidewalk.

One had shiny black hair with bangs. Another had her dark-brown hair wound into a single tight braid. The third had Titian-red tresses that caught the sun like copper.

The girl with the braid held her phone in front of her as she walked. Her friends leaned in from either side to see the screen. Marple headed straight toward them, pretending not to notice the wide crack in the sidewalk. She intentionally jammed her toe intothe crack and tumbled forward, landing on the pavement with a loud groan.

“Omigod!” shouted the braid. She tucked her phone into her pocket and ran over to where Marple was lying. “Are you okay?”

The other two girls crowded around. “Should we call somebody?” asked the redhead. “Did you break anything?”

Marple pushed herself up onto her knees and then stood up. “I’m fine, I’m fine,” she said with an embarrassed grin. Cheap trick, but effective. Instant empathy.

“I’m here looking for my niece,” she said. “Zozi Turner. I’m in town for a visit.”

“Zozi?” said the girl with bangs. “You mean The Legend?”

“The Legend?” asked Marple, mirroring the girls’ casual slouches and head tilts. “So my niece is famous?”

“Absolutely,” said the braid. “Campus hero.”

“For what?” asked Marple.

“For everything,” said the redhead. “Sports. Clubs. Student government. The Legend never stops.”

“She got accepted at Stanford, Harvard, and Oxford,” said the braid. “It’s embarrassing how smart she is.”

Marple nodded. This fit with what Addilyn had told her. Zozi was definitely an overachiever.

The redhead was looking from side to side. “I didn’t know Zozi had an aunt.”

“I haven’t been around much, I’m afraid,” said Marple.

“Loveyour accent,” said the girl with bangs.

“You sound likeBridgerton,” said the braid.

“Flattering,” said Marple, looking from one girl to the other. “So where would I find Zozi?”

The girl with bangs shrugged. “I don’t have any classes with her today.”

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