Revelation (Private 8)

to their work. Being a scary murder suspect had its own kind of power. It was less pleasant than

Billings power, but it was still something.

"Anyway, Ivy's not about to let me interview her, and the Web

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hasn't been much help," I told Marc, tilting my head toward the computers. My station was still

empty, thanks to the reserved sign, but the screen had long since switched over to the Easton

screen saver--an Easton Academy crest bouncing around from corner to corner. "But my gut tells

me she did it."

"Have you tried LexisNexis?" Marc asked, pulling off his hat and gloves as I shed my coat.

"What's that?" I asked.

He dumped his own coat on a chair and then motioned me to follow him back to my reserved

computer. I stood behind Marc as he sat down and brought up a new Explorer page, typing in the

address window.

"It's a subscription-only search engine," he said. "I got a username and password at my summer

job at the Miami Herald and it still works. It's, like, a hundred times more powerful and thorough

than Google and pretty much anything else. Plus it only searches reputable publications so you

don't get any of that gossip or Facebook crap."

"Sounds good to me," I whispered.

I grabbed an empty chair from a nearby table and brought it up to the desk. Once he accessed

LexisNexis, Marc typed in "Ivy Slade" and hit enter. Almost instantly a list of articles appeared.

Some of them were familiar--the same articles I had been staring at for days, like the one about

the horseback riding competition and Olivia Slade's obit. I was just about to groan in frustration

when I noticed a link from the local Village of Easton newspaper--a link I had never seen before.

Next to it was a thumbnail photo that, even in miniature, looked mighty familiar. My blood ran

cold at the sight of it.

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"Open that one," I said, pointing. I felt so jittery that I was amazed at my steady hand.

Marc double clicked. Instantly, the photo filled the screen. Ivy, Cheyenne, Noelle, and Ariana

smiled out at us. It was the same photo that hung above Ivy's bed. Marc whistled under his breath.

"That's eerie," he said.