Lucas watched the wipers as they danced across his windshield, sweeping away the powdery snow. It was almost three o’clock, which meant the doors to the high school would open and students would start pouring out: to buses, to cars, to sidewalks to walk home.

And he was there, waiting.

Waiting to see if he could find out if there was more to Noah Dans’s story than the one on record.

Alaina had stayed at his office for an hour yesterday once he’d agreed to take the case. With a little coaxing, she’d taken off her coat and hat and had pulled the vacant chair toward his desk so she would have a place to sit.

And she told him what she knew.

Her brother, Noah, age eighteen, was dead. He’d been found in his room on February 22nd, the victim of an apparent suicide. No one had been home that night, and it was his mother who had found him after returning from an overnight trip with her husband to the cities.

Lucas cringed. As a former police officer, he’d witnessed some pretty traumatic things during his tenure. But he didn’t know that anything he’d experienced could compare to a parent finding their child dead.

There were no signs of foul play. Noah had hung himself from his closet door.

But there’d been no suicide note, either. And Alaina was insistent that her brother was not someone who would contemplate suicide.

Lucas had struggled with this statement. Plenty of people suffered from depression, and many of them had the ability to hide their feelings well. Just because her brother hadn’t shown any outward signs of being suicidal did not mean he hadn’t entertained those thoughts.

He’d gone through a list of questions with Alaina, and tried to hide his surprise at how little she seemed to know about her brother. It was clear that she was several years older than him, but when he asked, she’d had no idea who his friends were, if he had a girlfriend, or even what classes he was currently enrolled in. Her answers had reinforced his belief that perhaps she didn’t know her brother as well as she thought she did.

The school bell sounded, and he yanked the key out of the ignition and opened the driver’s side door. The frigid air wrapped around him, the wind and snow pelting his skin, the cold immediately making his knee ache. The snowfall was light, but the subzero temps guaranteed that every single snowflake that fell would stick to the pavement. He should’ve worn boots, he realized, as he made his way across the slick sidewalk and toward the school.

He watched as the doors to the main entrance opened and students began to trickle out. He scanned the crowd, realizing it was going to be harder than he’d originally thought to try and locate people who might have information to share.

If he found anyone.

Since Alaina didn’t have any names, Lucas had asked her to log onto her social media accounts so he could take a look at Noah’s profiles and accounts. He’d spent a good fifteen minutes scrolling through a few different sites, noting with growing unease that her brother’s posts had gotten little to no interaction. However, Lucas did jot down the names of individuals who had liked posts or left comments, hoping those kids might be a good starting point.

But now, standing in front of the school, watching as kids bundled up like Eskimos hurried off to waiting cars and buses or began their walks home, he realized that the task might be near impossible.

Everyone was wearing a coat, and everyone’s hair was hidden by hats and scarves wrapped around their necks. Although he had a good idea of who he was looking for, even he wasn’t naive enough to think he’d be able to pick them out of a crowd of teenagers wearing what essentially amounted to matching winter uniforms.

Lucas pulled his own jacket tighter as he made his way toward the school’s entrance. Maybe he could take a quick peek inside, see if he spotted anyone before they’d bundled themselves up in all of their cold weather gear.

He entered the school, the double doors leading to an open foyer with the cafeteria directly ahead of him and the school offices to the left. To the right was a short hallway that led to the gymnasium.

A man seated behind a desk parked near the entrance looked up at him. “Can I help you?”

Lucas knew who he was: the building supervisor, Jerry Killeen.

He tugged his own hat off and parked his sunglasses on his head, and Jerry broke into a smile. “Long time no see,” he said, standing up and shaking Lucas’s hand.

“It’s been a while,” Lucas admitted.

Jerry scratched his thick beard. It looked a little grayer than Lucas remembered. His friend looked a little heavier, too, Lucas thought, as he took in Jerry’s ample gut ballooning out over his belted jeans.

“At least a couple years now, I think.”

“Probably.”

Jerry squinted. “So what brings you here? You’re a private investigator now, right?”

Lucas nodded. “I am.”

“You here to interrogate one of the students?” Jerry’s tone was joking, but he soon realized he was right. He quickly sobered. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” Lucas said. “Just need to ask a couple students some questions about another student.” The less he said, the better.

Jerry frowned and glanced toward the school offices.

“I just need to know where to find a couple of kids,” Lucas said. “If you could help me out…well, that would be great.”

Jerry gave him an uncomfortable look. “I don’t know, man. Visitors are supposed to check in at the front office. And I’m not supposed to give out student information.”

Lucas smiled. “Come on, man. It’s me. I’m former AFPD, remember?”

Jerry shoved his hands in his pockets, his gaze ricocheting from Lucas to the office and then back to him.

“Connor Desmond,” Lucas said quickly. “Name ring a bell?”

The quick flash of recognition on Jerry’s face told Lucas what he needed to know.

“Where could I find him?”

“Well,” Jerry hedged, licking his lips.

“A few questions, man,” Lucas told him. “That’s it. I promise.”

His friend expelled a breath. “He’s one of the managers for the basketball team. JV.”

Lucas smiled. “Thanks. I owe you.”

Jerry cleared his throat. “That you do. I’ll expect a beer at Shorty’s next time I see you.”

Lucas was already heading down the hallway toward the gym. “You’re on.”

Without a backward glance, he strode down the hallway, scanning the faces of the kids he passed. He was looking for a girl, too—Carmen Garcia—and even though he had no idea if she was still on campus, he figured it didn’t hurt to keep his eyes open for her, too.

He approached the doors to the gym and heard the telltale sound of sneakers squeaking on the wood floor, indicating the basketball team was already in there practicing. He hesitated, trying to think through what to do. He couldn’t just stroll in and approach Connor, especially not if they were in the middle of practice. Connor might not be out on the gym floor, but he was probably involved in some sort of team task, and there would be coaches in there, too, wondering why some strange guy was coming in to talk to one of their kids.

He could wait outside in the hall and hope to catch him during one of the breaks. It seemed like a monumental waste of time, but Lucas wasn’t sure what other choice he had.

He was just about to settle against the concrete wall when he saw a short, scrawny kid with bright red hair scurry out of the locker room, a clipboard in his hand.

Bingo.

He pushed off the wall and planted himself between Connor Desmond and the entrance to the gym.

The kid was studying a page clipped to his clipboard and almost ran into him.

“Sorry,” Connor mumbled, trying to sidestep Lucas.

Lucas moved with him. “Hey, are you Connor Desmond?”

Connor eyed him warily. “Yeah. Why?”

“You’re the manager, right? Of the basketball team?”

Connor gave a slight nod. “The JV team.”

Lucas snapped his fingers, as if just remembering this fact. “Right, right.”

“Who are you?” Connor asked bluntly.

“Me?” Lucas grinned. “Just an old guy who likes basketball. I was a hockey player back in high school, but I always wanted to play basketball. Too damn short, though.”

Connor looked at him. Lucas had a good six inches on the kid. “You don’t look too short to me.”

“Trust me,” Lucas said wryly. “I am.”

Connor shifted from one foot to the other, holding the clipboard against his chest. “Huh. Well, I sorta need to get in there.” He nodded toward the gym.

“Oh, sure,” Lucas said. But he didn’t step out of the way. “Say, can I ask you a quick question about a friend of yours?”

Connor frowned.

“Noah Dans.” Lucas’s eyes were glued to Connor, waiting for any flash of recognition or other reaction to the name.

Connor’s gaze quickly dropped to the floor.

“Do you know him?”

The kid wouldn’t look at him, but Lucas couldn’t help but notice that his complexion had paled considerably.

“Look, I just have a few questions—”

An elbow in his side made Lucas cut off his words. A trio of basketball players was jostling their way into the gym.

“Sorry,” a kid mumbled. Probably the owner of the elbow.

Another kid slowed. He was the tallest of the bunch, and built more like a linebacker than a basketball player.

“You okay?” His question was directed at Connor, but his attention was on Lucas.

“Yeah,” Connor mumbled. He brought his eyes back to Lucas. “I gotta go.” He spun on his heel and darted into the gym before Lucas could get another word out.

“You need something?” the tall kid asked Lucas. He was good-looking, with a short buzz cut and cutting green eyes, and he knew it.

Lucas met his gaze and said nothing.

“’Cuz if you don’t, I suggest you be on your way.”

Lucas arched an eyebrow. “Oh you do, do you?”

The kid’s smile was thin. “Yeah. Yeah I do.” He glanced down the hallway. “Especially because I see a security guard heading our way. And I have no problem telling him you don’t belong on campus.”

A muscle in Lucas’s temple pulsed, and he swallowed down the irritation he was feeling. If this had happened two years ago, when he’d had a badge and a title to go along with it? He would’ve given this punk-ass kid a piece of his mind.

But the badge was gone. The job was gone.

And he was just a man, hanging out somewhere he didn’t belong.