A teen. Little more than a child, a girl. Pescoli’s heart nosedived. “Does Bianca know her?”
“She says she knows of her, but they weren’t friends. That’s the general consensus of the kids up here, but we’re still checking it out.”
“Who’s up there with Bianca?”
“Quite a few teenagers. A party. They claim they were playing some kind of game. War or tag or hide-and-seek, something. Boys chasing girls.”
Pescoli’s heart dropped like a stone. This was getting worse by the second.
“Your daughter was being chased when she stumbled upon the body. We’re sorting it all out, but it’ll take a little time. Like I said, you probably want to come up here.”
“I do. But first I need to talk to Bianca.”
“Right here.”
Why was Bianca up there? Whom was she with? Why had she lied? Dozens of questions echoed through her brain.
“Mom?” Bianca’s voice was weak, almost trembling. Scared. Not like her usually bullheaded, opinionated daughter.
Pescoli’s anger seeped away. “Yeah, honey, I’m here,” she said. She was already rolling out of bed, her ungainly body making it difficult. She nearly tripped on her slippers and kicked them out of the way. Cisco, her mottled terrier mix, was on his feet and chasing after her, acting more a puppy than a dog well into his teens.
Bianca whispered, “Come get me.”
“I will.” Avoiding the exuberant dog, Pescoli made her way into the adjoining bath and asked, “What happened? What’re you doing up at the reservoir? I thought you were spending the night with Maddie.”
“I am. I mean, I was. Crap, I—I don’t know. A bunch of kids came up here to play a stupid game. Look . . . I’ll . . . I’ll explain when you get here.” Her voice had risen an octave, and she was defensive, sounding more like the girl Pescoli had raised. Good.
“The body you discovered? You recognized her?”
“Not at first. It was dark and . . .” She cleared her throat, obviously attempting to pull herself together. “Then they ran a flashlight beam over her face and I think . . . I think it’s a girl from school. I don’t know her, but she was in my English class when we were sophomores. Destiny Something. Didn’t he just tell you that? Geez, Mom! I don’t want to talk about it.”
“You’ll have to—”
“I know, but please, please just get up here!”
“Okay, okay. Stay with the deputy. He’s a good guy. I’ll be there in . . . as soon as I can.”
“Hurry!”
“Okay.”
Pescoli clicked off her cell and hit the bathroom light. Wincing against the brightness, she caught her image in the mirror mounted over the sink. Oh. Dear. God. Not that she could worry about it now, but she looked immense. At thirty-five weeks pregnant, she appeared more than at term, her stomach protruding as she stripped away her pajamas and stepped into her maternity jeans, top, and jacket. It wasn’t the pregnancy bump that was the problem, it was her bloated face, her lackluster hair, and the dark circles under her eyes that caused her to cringe. She was tall and athletic—well, usually—but she’d never been a woman who “glowed” during the months of carrying a child, not when she was pregnant with Jeremy when she was around twenty and certainly not now when she was nearly twice that age. Her hair was a reddish blond, loosely curled, and right now, a tangle.
But it didn’t matter, she thought, as she returned to the bedroom and sat on a bench at the end of their bed. Cisco, whining, had returned to his bed, where Sturgis, her recently inherited black lab, lay curled next to Nikita, Santana’s husky. Sturgis’s long nose rested on the pillowed edge of his dog bed, while his dark eyes followed every move Pescoli made as she walked through the room. Pescoli’s heart twisted a little as she considered his previous owner, Sheriff Dan Grayson. She missed him. Grayson had run the department with a firm hand and a cool head. Unlike Cooper Blackwater, the current gung-ho yahoo who commanded the offices of the Pinewood County Sheriff’s Department as if it were a military base in enemy territory.
Santana asked, “What’s up?”
“Bianca.” Pescoli managed to slip on a shoe. “She’s up at the reservoir with a bunch of other kids and there’s a dead girl, one she doesn’t know. I don’t have the details yet.” Forcing her foot into the second shoe, she grimaced. How could a person gain weight in her damned feet? She walked back to the closet, then unlocked the safe where she kept her sidearm. “So I might not be back for a while.”
“You sure you’re okay with this?” he asked, now wide awake.
“I’m never ‘okay’ with anything like this. What kind of question is that? A girl is dead,” she said testily as she made sure the weapon was loaded, then slid it into her shoulder holster. “Besides, my kid found her.”
“Even if she didn’t, if Bianca wasn’t up there, you’d go.”
“It’s my job,” she reminded him.
“Yeah, I know.” He swung his bare legs over the side of the bed. Santana made a habit of sleeping in the nude. Which she usually liked. Now, she didn’t need the distraction. “You should be on maternity leave.”