Chapter 4
Dad didn't say anything for several seconds.
Then he called the police.
Principal Harris protested immediately.
“Let's not overreact.”
Dad looked at him as if he'd forgotten Harris was even in the room.
“Someone just sent my daughter a photograph of our home.”
“We don't know who sent it.”
“Exactly.”
Dr. Bennett nodded.
“This is now beyond school discipline.”
Whitmore sat down.
She looked sick.
Principal Harris paced behind his desk.
I stared at the photo.
Our blue front door.
The maple tree Dad planted after Mom died.
My bedroom window on the second floor.
I had seen that view every day of my life.
But photographed by a stranger, it looked different.
Unsafe.
Dad took my phone.
“Emily, don't respond.”
“I wasn't going to.”
“Don't delete anything either.”
Within twenty minutes, two police officers arrived.
Officer Martinez was a woman in her forties with dark hair and a calm voice.
Her partner, Officer Greene, spoke with Principal Harris while Martinez sat beside me.
“You received three messages?”
“Yes.”
“Recognize the number?”
“No.”
“Any reason someone might know your address?”
I almost laughed.
Half the school could probably find it online.
But I said, “Not specifically.”
Dad handed her my phone.
She photographed the messages.
When she saw the picture of our house, her expression became serious.
“Did anyone contact your home?”
Dad shook his head.
“We have a doorbell camera.”
“Can you access it remotely?”
He opened the app.
My heart pounded as he scrolled through recent activity.
Nothing unusual.
Delivery driver.
Neighbor walking his dog.
A car passing.
Then at 12:47 p.m., the camera had recorded a dark SUV slowing near our driveway.
It didn't stop.
The windows were tinted.
Officer Martinez asked, “Do you recognize the vehicle?”
Dad shook his head.
I stared.
Something about it felt familiar.
Then I remembered.
Vanessa's mother drove a black Range Rover.
But so did half the parents at school.
“I don't know.”
Dad looked at me.
“What?”
“Mrs. Carter has a dark SUV.”
Officer Martinez wrote it down.
Principal Harris overheard us.
“That's hardly evidence.”
Officer Martinez looked at him.
“No one said it was.”
He stepped back.
Dr. Bennett remained near the door.
She had been making calls.
I heard pieces of them.
Legal counsel.
Foundation board.
Independent investigator.
Every few minutes, Principal Harris looked more miserable.
Mrs. Carter called the school.
Twice.
Harris didn't answer either time.
Then Vanessa's father arrived.
I had never met him before.
Thomas Carter was nothing like his wife.
He was tall, gray-haired, and looked exhausted before anyone even explained what was happening.
Vanessa wasn't with him.
He entered the office and immediately said, “Where's Rebecca?”
Principal Harris stood.
“She left with Vanessa.”
Mr. Carter looked confused.
“She told me Vanessa had been attacked.”
Dad crossed his arms.
“Your daughter attacked mine.”
Mr. Carter looked at him.
“You're Emily's father?”
“Yes.”
“I saw the video.”
Everyone froze.
Mrs. Carter had apparently sent him a shortened clip.
But Lucas had already uploaded the full version.
Someone at school had shared it.
Students were passing it around.
Mr. Carter had received the complete recording from his nephew.
His expression tightened.
“I saw enough.”
Principal Harris cleared his throat.
“This is becoming a complicated situation.”
Mr. Carter looked at him.
“No. Vanessa was wrong.”
I stared at him.
I hadn't expected that.
Neither had Principal Harris.
“Thomas,” Harris said carefully, “there are additional issues—”
“I know.”
Mr. Carter looked at me.
“Emily, I'm sorry.”
I didn't know what to say.
Vanessa's father apologizing felt almost more uncomfortable than Vanessa screaming at me.
He continued.
“What my daughter did was unacceptable.”
Dad nodded once.
“Thank you.”
Mr. Carter looked toward Dr. Bennett.
“Margaret.”
“Thomas.”
He sighed.
“I assume Rebecca has already made this worse.”
Dr. Bennett raised an eyebrow.
“You know your wife.”
He rubbed his forehead.
“Unfortunately.”
Principal Harris shifted behind his desk.
“Thomas, perhaps you and I should talk privately.”
“No.”
Harris froze.
Mr. Carter looked around.
“If this concerns Vanessa, Emily should hear it.”
Principal Harris's face darkened.
“Your family has been a major supporter of this school.”
“And?”
“And misunderstandings should not destroy relationships built over decades.”
Mr. Carter stared at him.
“Are you asking me to protect you?”
“No.”
“It sounds like it.”
Harris's face reddened.
The police officers exchanged a glance.
Dr. Bennett said nothing.
She didn't need to.
Mr. Carter turned toward Whitmore.
“Susan.”
Whitmore looked down.
“Did Rebecca pressure you about Emily?”
Whitmore's eyes filled with tears.
“I can't discuss—”
“Did she?”
Whitmore looked at Harris.
Then at me.
Finally, she whispered, “Yes.”
Mr. Carter shut his eyes.
Dad said, “How many times?”
Whitmore's voice barely came out.
“Several.”
My stomach twisted.
Mr. Carter asked, “What did she ask you to do?”
Whitmore hesitated.
“Make sure Emily understood that continuing complaints could damage her reputation.”
Dad's chair scraped backward.
Officer Martinez stood.
“Sir.”
Dad stopped moving.
His voice was frighteningly calm.
“You intimidated my daughter.”
Whitmore cried.
“I didn't want to.”
“But you did.”
“Yes.”
Mr. Carter looked ashamed.
“Did Rebecca ask you to get Emily expelled?”
Whitmore shook her head.
“Not exactly.”
“What does that mean?”
“She asked whether scholarship students could lose eligibility for behavioral problems.”
I felt cold all over.
Dad looked at Principal Harris.
“And today you suspended her immediately.”
Harris snapped, “Because there was a physical altercation.”
Dr. Bennett said, “Convenient.”
“That is not fair.”
“Neither is threatening a teenager's scholarship.”
Nobody spoke.
Officer Greene came back into the room.
He had spoken to someone outside.
He looked at Martinez.
“Can I talk to you?”
They stepped into the hallway.
A minute later, Officer Martinez returned.
She looked at Dad.
“We had another unit drive past your house.”
Dad stood immediately.
“Why?”
“Your front door was open.”
My heart stopped.
Dad's face drained.
“What?”
“There's no sign of forced entry from outside, but we need you to come with us.”
I grabbed my backpack.
Principal Harris said, “Emily should remain here until the disciplinary matter—”
Dad turned on him.
“My house may have been broken into.”
Harris stopped.
Dr. Bennett looked at me.
“I'm coming too.”
Mr. Carter said, “So am I.”
Dad frowned.
“Why?”
Mr. Carter glanced toward the photo on my phone.
“Because if Rebecca has anything to do with this, I need to know.”
Officer Martinez immediately said, “Nobody is accusing your wife.”
“I am.”
The room went silent.
Mr. Carter's voice was tired.
“Not of breaking into their house.”
He looked at Dad.
“But Rebecca has been obsessed with protecting Vanessa's school record for years. She thinks one bad mark will ruin her future.”
“That doesn't explain this,” Dad said.
“No.”
Mr. Carter looked toward the doorway.
“But six months ago, Rebecca hired a private investigator.”
My stomach dropped.
“To investigate who?”
Mr. Carter looked at me.
“You.”
Dad took a step forward.
Officer Martinez moved between them.
“Why?”
Mr. Carter lifted both hands.
“I only found out later.”
“Why was your wife investigating my sixteen-year-old daughter?”
“Because Emily kept beating Vanessa academically.”
“That doesn't make sense.”
“I know.”
Mr. Carter's face twisted.
“Rebecca became convinced Emily was cheating.”
I couldn't believe what I was hearing.
“So she hired someone to follow me?”
“I don't know how far it went.”
Dad looked ready to explode.
Mr. Carter continued quickly.
“I confronted her. She said she'd canceled it.”
“Did you believe her?”
“No.”
We left school.
I rode with Dad.
Dr. Bennett followed in her car.
The police were ahead of us.
I sat in the passenger seat staring at my phone.
The threatening messages had stopped.
Dad gripped the steering wheel.
“You're not going back there.”
I looked at him.
“To school?”
“Not until I know you're safe.”
“What about finals?”
“I don't care.”
“I do.”
He glanced at me.
“Emily.”
“I've worked for this.”
“I know.”
“I won't let Vanessa take it.”
Dad's face softened.
“This isn't about losing.”
“Yes, it is.”
“No.”
“Dad, if I disappear now, she gets exactly what she wanted.”
He didn't answer.
I knew he understood.
That didn't mean he agreed.
When we turned onto our street, three police cars were outside our house.
Our neighbor stood on her lawn.
My stomach tightened.
The front door was open.
Dad parked.
“Stay in the car.”
“Dad—”
“Emily.”
His tone ended the argument.
I watched him approach Officer Greene.
They talked.
Then Greene looked toward me.
A few minutes later Dad came back.
His face was pale.
“What happened?”
He opened my door.
“You can come inside.”
That wasn't an answer.
“Dad.”
“Nothing appears stolen.”
“Then what?”
He looked at me.
“Someone went into your bedroom.”
My stomach dropped.
I followed him inside.
The living room looked normal.
Kitchen normal.
Hallway normal.
Then we climbed the stairs.
My bedroom door was open.
Officer Martinez stood outside it.
“You don't have to go in.”
I did.
At first, I couldn't understand what I was seeing.
My books were still on the shelf.
My laptop was still on my desk.
Jewelry box untouched.
Then I saw my wall.
The framed photograph of Mom and me had been removed.
It was lying on my bed.
Face down.
I picked it up.
The glass was cracked.
On the back, someone had written in black marker.
SCHOLARSHIP GIRLS SHOULD KNOW THEIR PLACE.
Dad stood behind me.
I felt his hand on my shoulder.
Officer Martinez asked quietly, “Emily, has anyone ever used that phrase before?”
My mouth went dry.
Yes.
Someone had.
Vanessa.
Last year.
Right before she shoved me against a bathroom wall.
I whispered, “Yes.”
Officer Martinez waited.
“Who?”
I looked at Dad.
May you like
Then I answered.
“Vanessa Carter.”
