Detective Paul Rigby recognized the girl. She’d been sitting in the front row of the bleachers in the high school gym when he gave the annual lecture on the dangers of drugs. He remembered her because she’d scribbled furiously in a notepad as he talked, unlike her peers who paid attention with varying degrees of interest. He’d expected her to have questions at the end or to approach him afterward for an incisive quote to include in the school newspaper, but she’d slipped out without a word to anyone as soon as he’d finished.

And now, a month later, there she lay, flat on her stomach, her face partially hidden by her strawberry blonde hair, oblivious to the heartache she’d caused the couple downstairs and, when the news broke, would cause to her classmates.

A sense of helplessness engulfed Rigby. So young. So much to live for. A lifetime of potential gone.

He glanced around the room at the signs of a life in progress. A cluttered desktop. A hefty textbook lay open next to a laptop. A homework assignment unfinished? A copy of Wuthering Heights, half read judging by the bookmark. A pile of college brochures from prestigious schools. The pinboard above the desk was a mix of motivational quotes and photos of a girl full of life, hanging out with friends at a park, by a lake, dressed for Halloween. Mostly the same three friends, navigating the teen years together. Three girls whose lives were about to be upended. But three girls who might be able to shed some light on how this had happened at all. If he could get them to tell him the truth.

Of course, the death could have been from natural causes. As young as she was, it happened. Was it sick of him to hope that this was the case? But his gut told him otherwise. Likewise with suicide. There’d been four near-fatal drug overdoses in Lewisville in the last few months, a fact he’d emphasized in his recent talk in the hope it would have some impact, but he and his colleagues knew it was only a matter of time before there was a death. An utterly senseless death.

And Morgan had proved them right.

He swallowed hard. Looked back at Morgan. She could have been sleeping. He had an irrational urge to yell at her to wake up, to give them time to find out where the drugs were coming from so they could prevent this very occurrence. But there was no rise and fall of the bedcovers to signify life. Morgan had gone. Only her body remained.

Officer Weldon cleared his throat. “Did I do the right thing? Calling you in? I thought you’d want to know.”

Rigby heard the catch in Weldon’s voice. He turned and gave a reassuring nod. Dealing with a dead body was never easy regardless of the degree of violence leading to that death. And Weldon wasn’t a great deal older than Morgan. Even the possibility her death was from natural causes wouldn’t necessarily ease the trauma. Would merely act as a reminder that no one was invincible.

“You’ve spoken to her parents? What did they have to say?”

“Not much.” Weldon exhaled hard. “Morgan was late coming down for breakfast. She had a softball game at eight. Her mom came up to wake her. And couldn’t.” He exhaled again. “Apparently, her scream brought Dad up. And he called 911.” He hesitated. “I arrived at the same time as the paramedics. Mom kept yelling at them to do something as if they could magically bring her back to life, but one of the guys said he thought she’d been dead for several hours. We finally managed to persuade her and her husband to go downstairs. One of the paramedics is with them now.”

“And the medical examiner?”

“On his way.”

A doorbell rang.

“That’s probably him now.” Weldon headed for the front door. Rigby followed him to the top of the stairs. No sooner had Weldon opened the door than a frantic woman charged in.

“Has something happened?” she asked as Weldon put an arm out to restrain her from going any further. “I just got back from the supermarket. Saw the police car. And the ambulance.” Her words came out in a breathless rush. “What’s happened? Is it Andrea or Drew?”

“Ma’am, I’ll have to ask you to—”

Another woman shot out of one of the downstairs rooms and threw herself into the first woman’s arms.

“It’s Morgan. My Morgan. I went to wake her up and… and… and…” The words became a wail.

Rigby watched as the expression on the new arrival’s face flitted from confusion to horror and then creased in anguish as her tears began to flow.

Weldon glanced up at Rigby. Rigby gestured for him to direct the women out of the hallway. Neighbors usually waited until the police cars and ambulances left before finding some excuse to learn what had been going on. The actions of this neighbor suggested she was a close friend, maybe even a relative.

When Weldon reappeared, he called up, “I’m going to stand outside. In case there’s any more curious neighbors.”

Rigby nodded his approval and stepped back into the bedroom.

A paramedic hefted his medical bag onto his shoulder. “I hate these calls. When there’s nothing you can do but tell the relatives what they already know.” He shook his head. “And twice in one night, that really sucks.”

Rigby frowned. “What do you mean, twice in one night?”

“You haven’t heard? The crew before us, they got a call about one a.m. Parents heard their kid come in, just after midnight but didn’t hear him go upstairs to bed. Eventually went downstairs to check and found him sprawled on the sofa, barely breathing. The kid didn’t make it to the hospital. Died five minutes out. Marc, he was in the back with the kid. He was absolutely gutted. Never seen him so emotional.”

“Damn.” It was all Rigby could think to say. Two in one night. This would rock the local school community. Was there a connection between the two? He wondered why he hadn’t heard about the other case. Though the call from Weldon had come before he’d made it into the station house. If the call had come from Collins, the desk sergeant, he would no doubt have been told of the earlier death.

“How’s Becca?” the paramedic asked as he headed for the door.

“Great,” Rigby replied automatically. And all the better for not having to deal with teenage overdoses. Her maternity leave had spared her that. Marc had been one of her regular partners. If not for their daughter Lotte, Becca would likely have been on shift with him. Would be now trying to deal with the emotional aftermath of losing a patient in their van. The stress and exhaustion from a sleepless night due to a teething baby barely compared.

The medical examiner appeared in the doorway. He glanced at the girl in the bed then surveyed the room. He let out a soft curse at the sight of the desk.

“You know her?” Rigby asked.

“No.” Dr. Bingham shook his head. “But I’m guessing my daughter might.” He gestured at the desk. “That book. Amy’s reading it too. For an AP class. Which probably means she’s a classmate.”

Rigby grimaced. That couldn’t be easy. Dealing with the death of a kid the same age as your own. Though the doctor’s comment surprised him. He assumed the doctor’s family was grown up. He was sure his mother had mentioned the guy had grandchildren. “Morgan Stanhope?”

“Not a name I’ve heard her mention, but sometimes it’s hard to keep track.”

“Could it be natural causes?” Rigby asked as the doctor approached the bed.

The doctor gave Rigby a wistful smile. “It could be. I won’t know for certain until I’ve done the tests. But I doubt it.” He brushed the hair from the girl’s head so her face was fully visible and pointed to some white marks around the girl’s mouth and nose. “See this. A classic sign of an overdose. And I’d say she’s been dead for a few hours now.”

“Shit.” Rigby wasn’t sure whether he’d cursed out loud or not. “I’ll leave you to it. I have to speak to the parents.”

“Rather you than me.” When Rigby hesitated, the doctor added, “Got everything you need before we move the body?”

Rigby nodded. Weldon had taken the necessary photos. Once the body had been removed, they’d do a thorough search, see if they could find anything to indicate whether Morgan was taking drugs and, if so, where she might be getting them from.

He crossed to the pinboard. Removed one of the photos showing the four friends sitting around a table in what he recognized as the school cafeteria. It hadn’t changed much since his day.