There were two people Lucas was waiting to talk to.

Hannah Sears and Jack Whitman.

Not because he thought they might’ve been the ones lurking outside of Noah’s window, but because they were the two names Alaina had identified in her brother’s yearbooks. Two people who had left written notes that hinted at something more than just a casual acquaintance.

Two people who were inside the high school, which was where Lucas was currently parked.

After discovering the footprints, he and Alaina had gone back inside the house and she’d quickly filled him in on what she’d found in the yearbooks. She looked disappointed that she’d only found two names, but at that point, Lucas was grateful for any and all leads.

“Don’t touch anything,” he’d told her after they’d returned to the front porch.

She’d kicked her boots against the concrete step, trying to dislodge the snow. “I won’t.”

“Make sure your mom doesn’t, either.”

“She can’t even go downstairs,” Alaina reminded him. “She sure as hell won’t be going into his room.”

Lucas nodded.

“Are you going to dust for prints or something?” she asked, her brow furrowing.

He bit back a smile. She said it so hesitantly, as if she wasn’t sure she’d used the correct terminology.

“Maybe,” he told her. “I’d just like to preserve the scene as much as possible. Just in case.”

Her expression clouded, and he’d immediately felt bad. He was used to detaching himself from crimes and investigations: to him, the bedroom was quickly becoming the scene of a potential crime. He still wasn’t convinced anything had happened, but there were some odd clues that weren’t adding up. Sure, Noah could’ve had a friend or girlfriend sneak into his room. Hell, he might’ve even locked himself out of the house at some point and broken in through his bedroom window. Those were all viable possibilities.

No, he amended. Those were all likely possibilities. But, as a former police officer, he was the last person who would discount the idea that something else had occurred. Something criminal. However, his choice of words—the ‘scene’—probably conjured up far different images for Alaina. This was her brother’s bedroom, not some abandoned warehouse or back alley.

The school bell sounded and Lucas blinked. Shit. He’d intended to be at the doors waiting. He knew what the two kids looked like, thanks to yearbook photos and a quick glance at social media profile pics, but he had no idea if or where he’d find them in the halls of the building. It was a little like trying to find a needle in a haystack, but he didn’t have much else to go on, especially since he couldn’t get his hands on school schedules. He knew Jerry, the building supervisor, would be inside, but he’d already indicated that he wasn’t too thrilled with the idea of sharing info about the kids.

Lucas had briefly entertained asking Blaine for help with this but quickly nixed that idea, too. He’d been less than receptive to discussing the case when they’d met at Lulu’s and had even shown a little aggression, which was not like the Blaine he knew. Lucas made a mental note to touch base with his friend soon, not about the case, but simply because he was concerned about him. They were friends—better than friends, actually. If Lucas wanted to get all sentimental, he’d say Blaine was the closest thing he had to a brother. And he was pretty sure Blaine felt the same way about him. Blaine had Nate, of course, but his grumpy-ass half-brother never acted like one.

Lucas was going against traffic as he pushed his way into the school, weaving in between students pouring out of the building. He was at least armed with one concrete piece of information, thanks to Alaina: Noah’s class schedule.

His ultimate goal was to find and talk to Jack and Hannah, but he figured he could also swing by classrooms and see if he could get anything useful from Noah’s teachers.

He pulled out his phone and looked at the screenshot of Noah’s schedule. Alaina had forwarded it to him. He enlarged it, noting the classroom numbers and his own location in the building. The computer science room was the closest, so he figured he’d start there. Noah had liked video games so maybe he’d formed a closer relationship to that teacher.

Lucas pivoted in the direction of the classroom and then stopped. A girl with short pink hair was walking by at a fast clip, her thick black boots landing with a resounding thump with every step she took.

He hesitated for just a moment.

How many girls with pink hair attended Aspen Falls? It wasn’t like they were in a hip urban neighborhood in the cities.

“Hannah!” he called.

She turned.

He smiled.

She looked around, trying to figure out who had called her name.

Lucas approached her, his posture and expression casual. “You’re Hannah Sears, right?”

Her eyes, thick with eyeliner, narrowed as she looked him over. “Who the hell are you?”

Lucas stuck his hand out. She ignored it, clutching her books more tightly to her chest. She wasn’t wearing a coat. She wasn’t wearing much of anything, really. Black leggings that clung to her long, supple frame, and a thin white T-shirt that clearly showed off the hot pink bra she was wearing underneath. Lucas knew the dress code policy at the high school and wondered how in the hell she’d gotten away with wearing that to class.

“My name’s Lucas,” he said with an easy smile. “I was wondering if I could ask you a couple of questions.”

“What are you, a cop or something?” Her voice was laced with derision.

“Nope,” he said cheerfully. “Not a cop.”

Her glare only intensified and she spun around, ready to leave him in the dust.

“I have some questions about Noah.”

She faltered.

And then slowly, she turned back around. Her expression had changed to one of uncertainty.

“What?” she whispered.

“You were friends, right?”

“Why?”

She was guarded, and rightfully so. Some strange man had just appeared out of nowhere, asking her questions about her dead friend.

“I’m just curious,” Lucas said. It was a shitty non-answer, but he wanted her to be the one to share information, not him.

“Bullshit.” Her lips flattened into a thin line. It made her look older, harsher. “Who are you, and why are you asking questions about Noah?”

Lucas shoved his hands in his pockets. “His family asked me to,” he admitted. “They’re pretty torn up over what happened. They just want some answers, you know? About why he…why he did it.”

Hannah clutched her books tighter and shifted her gaze so she was looking at the floor. It was standard school flooring, linoleum streaked with dirt and salt, but she locked in on it as if it were the most fascinating thing in the world.

“We used to be friends.”

Her voice was so low Lucas almost didn’t hear her.

“Used to be?” he echoed.

She nodded.

“What happened? Did you guys have a falling out, or did you just drift apart?”

She still wouldn’t look at him. “I don’t know. We weren’t super close to begin with. We had a few classes together, and we sometimes sat together at lunch. That was pretty much it.”

“Did he have other friends?” Lucas asked. “People he was closer to?”

“His gaming friends,” Hannah responded. “But they were all online.”

Lucas thought about this. Hannah was one of the only people who’d written a personal note in Noah’s yearbook.

“So you hadn’t fought or anything?” he asked. “There was nothing that changed the nature of your relationship.”

She looked up then, her lip curled in disgust. “We didn’t have a ‘relationship.’ Geez. We were friends. Casual friends. That’s it.”

He held up a hand. “Okay, okay. Did he have any enemies that you know of? Was he mean to anyone? Anyone mean to him?”

Her chuckle was harsh. “Mean to him?” she sneered. “This isn’t middle school. You think there’s like a classroom bully or something? How naïve are you?”

Lucas’s temper flared. He was growing tired of her attitude.

“Maybe cut the attitude?” he snapped. “Your friend is dead. Dead. And I’m trying to figure out what was so damn miserable in his life that he thought killing himself was the only way out.”

Hannah reared back as if she’d been slapped.

Good, Lucas thought.

When she looked back at him, her expression was softer, more vulnerable. “Noah was one of the good guys, okay? In a school full of assholes, he was a good guy.”

It was probably the most honest answer he was going to get from her. And he realized he probably wasn’t going to get much more. Hannah had known Noah, had liked him, but they had never been close. His death was probably as much of a mystery to her as it was to Noah’s family.

She shuffled her feet and suddenly her mask of indifference and haughtiness was firmly back in place. “We done?”

Lucas nodded. “One more thing, though,” he said, remembering the other students he was looking for. “Any idea where I might find Carmen Garcia?”

Her brow wrinkled. “Carmen moved to Texas like two years ago.”

Lucas hadn’t considered that possibility. There went one of the names on his very short list of people to talk to.

“What about Jack Whitman?”

“You said one more thing.”

“I know,” he said, trying to keep his irritation in check. “Last one, I promise. Jack Whitman.”

She scowled. “Why do you want to talk to him?”

He wasn’t going to tell her that this was the only other person who had really written in Noah’s yearbook.

“What do you mean?” he said instead.

Her scowl deepened. “He’s the biggest asshole jock in this school.”