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  Morgan stopped. Listened and thought about the meaning behind Caren’s words. “Robert didn’t want Bree at ReNew.”

  Caren shook her head vigorously. “No. No. No. He did not. He. Wanted. Her. Home. ASAP.” She punched the air with her index finger. “But here’s the secret. Not even Robert knows.”

  She drifted into silence, eyes closing once more. Morgan knelt beside her, gripping her hand. “What didn’t you tell Robert, Caren? What’s the secret?”

  She squeezed her eyes tighter, as if denying Morgan’s presence. Morgan changed her tone and caressed Caren’s forehead.

  “It’s okay,” she crooned. “You can tell me. You’ll feel so much better. Tell me, Caren.”

  “It’s all my fault. All my fault,” Caren said, eyes still closed tight.

  Morgan kept soothing the older woman’s forehead, stroking her hair. Waiting. She was afraid Caren would drift asleep before saying anything more, but finally her eyes fluttered open.

  “It’s all my fault. I made her come home. Because that’s what Robert wanted. And Robert always gets what he wants. Always.” A strangled sob choked her to silence. She swallowed hard and continued, “BreeAnna’s dead because I made her come home. She didn’t want to come. She wanted to stay. There. At that awful place.”

  “Did Bree say that?” Who would want to stay locked up rather than return to freedom? Morgan couldn’t even imagine it. Maybe ReNew was a cult, had brainwashed her.

  “No. Bree didn’t say a word. Not to me. Not when I came for her, not on the ride home, not before she, she—” She choked up, her inhalation gurgling with tears.

  “Why do you think she wanted to stay at ReNew?” Morgan asked after Caren had recovered enough to blow her nose and speak clearly.

  “Horrid place. While I was waiting for them to get her, I overheard a girl in the hallway, arguing with Mr. Chapman, the director. The girl was screaming. In a rage. Said Bree had to stay, that he shouldn’t take her away. Said Bree hated me, hated her life here.”

  She stared into Morgan’s eyes with a sudden ferocity and gripped her hands tight. “My baby girl would rather stay locked up in that hellhole than live with me. I drove her away, and when I made her come home—”

  She released Morgan and collapsed back against the cushions, curling up into a fetal ball, sobbing. “All my fault. I made her come home and now she’s dead. She’s dead. Because of me.”

  CHAPTER 18

  Jenna found herself torn between conflicting feelings—physical and emotional. The Reverend’s words made her stomach tighten in both anticipation and fear. Memories overwhelmed her, and she lost sense of time, could only dimly hear Greene’s voice as he continued the conversation without her.

  She wished Nick were here so she could seek his counsel, but that would mean exposing her secrets, and there was no way she’d ever tell him the truth.

  She thought of Andre. He could never, ever know the truth, either. But thinking of him brought no fear of being exposed for who, for what she really was. Instead her mind filled with the memory of how she would burrow into Andre’s embrace after they made love. He’d wrap his arms around her, offering warmth and comfort. And never once asking for anything in return.

  Focusing on Andre, feeling his hands glide down her body, hearing his voice murmur, low and soothing, that gave her the strength she needed to shove the memories—the good along with the bad—behind the barricades she’d spent decades constructing.

  She blinked and glanced over at Greene, trying to clue back into the conversation. “The girl is willful, stubborn,” he was saying. “She refuses to obey any rules, accept any consequences.”

  “Out of control,” the Reverend finished for him.

  “Yes, exactly. Totally out of control.” Greene didn’t seem at all uncomfortable with the Reverend’s magnetic dominance. Instead Greene was relaxed in his chair, his chin bobbing in agreement with the Reverend’s pronouncements.

  The girl, Deidre, and the administrator, Chapman, had moved to stand side by side behind the Reverend, their bodies almost touching. Both stood tall, soldiers at parade rest. The Reverend had resumed his chair, his fingers templed before him as he considered their fictional problem child.

  “In my experience,” he said, sounding more like a grandfather than a man of God, “children like your daughter are almost impossible to handle in the home setting. I commend both of you for being able to keep her from harming herself or someone else, but I sense we’ve come to a crisis.”

  Greene nodded and leaned forward eagerly. “It’s only been a little drinking and acting out, but—”

  “But you see that it’s the tip of the iceberg.” The Reverend smiled at Greene as if he were a particularly astute student. “I totally agree. I’ve been doing this for several decades, caring for these wayward young souls, and I can assure you, Mr. Renshaw, that anything you know or think you know about your daughter’s behavior is only a tiny fraction of what is actually going on.”

  Chapman took his cue and handed the Reverend a folder. The Reverend opened the cover and allowed it to fall against the desk, the small noise sounding like a judge’s gavel. “Take this latest incident. Drinking, out at night at an older boy’s house, bringing a younger girlfriend along—” He looked up suddenly, his gaze now stern. “You do realize if the authorities got involved, your daughter could be labeled a sexual predator and charged as an adult?”

  “No, please,” Jenna said with a gasp, playing her role. “She’s only fifteen. She didn’t know what she was doing—it’s those boys, it’s their fault.”

  “But who placed the younger girl in that dangerous environment with those older, predatory males?” The Reverend shook his head. “I think we can help Morgan. I really do—but it won’t be easy. Or quick. She’ll need to learn to take responsibility for her actions, to accept the consequences and learn control.”

  Greene was nodding eagerly. “Yes, exactly. That’s why we’re here.” He turned to Jenna. “I think we’ve finally come to the right place.” Without waiting for Jenna’s answer, he faced the Reverend. “When can you take her? When can we bring her?”

  Jenna stood up, startling them all and bringing their focus on her. “Wait. I want to see where she’d be staying, learn more—”

  To her surprise it wasn’t the Reverend who answered her but rather the student leader, Deidre, who came forward and took Jenna’s hand in her own. “Of course, Mrs. Renshaw. Let me show you.” She glanced back at Chapman and the Reverend who both nodded their approval. Before she knew it, Deidre led Jenna from the room, leaving the men behind. Jenna looked over her shoulder, hoping Greene wouldn’t blow their cover, but she had no choice but to follow—especially as Deidre still clung to her arm.

  Instead of leading her out of the building, Deidre took her into an adjacent room. There were several chairs gathered around a wall-mounted wide-screen TV. “Sit here.”

  Jenna obeyed—the girl, she wasn’t sure how old Deidre was, late teens to early twenties, was oddly persuasive. A lot like the Reverend that way. Jenna wondered if they were related. The body language back in the office had implied that the administrator, Sean Chapman, might be involved with Deidre. He’d looked at her in a way that was almost possessive.

  Deidre reached for a remote and took the seat beside Jenna. “You understand how disruptive it would be to interrupt the students’ day with strangers touring, so we created this video to show families a typical day at ReNew.”

  The video, complete with a mellow acoustic guitar playing in the background, began with a panoramic view of the ReNew grounds. “Both Director Chapman and myself live on the campus. We also maintain a small but effective security staff.” The ReNew logo filled the screen, then was replaced by still shots of smiling teenagers staring attentively at a teacher, followed by more of the same—teens gathered together listening or discussing or eating or playing basketball. The
girls outnumbered the boys by about three to one. They were almost all white and good-looking, to the point where Jenna wondered if they were students or hired models.

  As the video ended, Deidre continued, “While our focus is, of course, on behavior modification, following traditional twelve-step tenets, we strive to ensure that each student graduates from the program not only with their spirit ReNewed but also better equipped for the responsibilities of adulthood.”

  Jenna glanced up at the sweeping statement. “How can you possibly know that?”

  Deidre didn’t take offense at Jenna’s skepticism. “I’m sure you’ve already done your homework and read the testimonials of our prior students from our website. Let me share with you my personal testimony.” She took both of Jenna’s hands in hers and leaned toward her until they were almost head to head. “ReNew saved my life.”

  “How so?”

  “We only had my mom, my brother and I, and we lost her when I was ten. He was seventeen, and he did a good job of taking care of us, well, as good as he could. But, by the time I was twelve, we were living out of our car, broke, hadn’t eaten in a few days. As you can imagine, a big brother isn’t the same as a parent, and the more chaotic our life became, the more I rebelled, acted out. A wild child, my brother used to call me. I began stealing. I used to lie to adults and panhandle for spare change. I even imagined I’d be better off on my own and tried to run away.”

  “What happened?” Jenna asked, transfixed by the younger woman’s story despite herself. No, not a story. Deidre was telling the truth, of that she was certain.

  Deidre inhaled deeply, bit her lip, then released it once more. “We were on our way to the city, so my brother could find work. Stopped for the night at a rest stop. No food, no money, not sure if we had enough gas left to make it to a service station or how we’d pay for it once we got there. And, of course, stupid, stubborn selfish twelve-year-old that I was, I picked a fight. I can’t even remember what it was about. But that night after my brother fell asleep, I decided I’d had enough. We’d been on the road long enough that I knew there were ways women could make money, using their bodies, and I decided that I wasn’t a little girl and I could take care of myself. So I propositioned the next male driving alone who parked near us.”

  Jenna stared at Deidre. Deidre nodded. “I know. I was an idiot—but that’s just how out of control I was. I didn’t care about consequences. I didn’t want to think, I just wanted to leave my life behind. Thankfully that first driver in that first car was the good Reverend Doctor. He brought my brother and me here, gave my brother a job, and my brother enrolled me in ReNew.”

  “You wanted to attend?”

  “Heck no. I hated him for it—thought he was abandoning me. I fought, kicked, screamed my way through the first few months. Until one day, I stopped shouting long enough to listen. To understand how messed up I was. To calm down. To let my guard down and admit that I couldn’t make it without help.”

  She released Jenna’s hands. “I’ve been here ever since. Trying to repay the Reverend by helping others who were like me. But honestly, without ReNew, I would have died years ago. The good Reverend Doctor didn’t just save my soul, he saved my life.”

  CHAPTER 19

  I can’t believe you were thinking of sending Morgan in there without talking with me first,” Nick said to Andre as they drove to the Greenes’ house for their meeting with Caren to begin the psychological autopsy. Nick drove—Andre preferred to ride shotgun, keeping his eyes and hands free to focus on the environment around them.

  To Nick’s surprise, Andre jerked upright as if on alert. But the road was clear. Nick glanced over and realized Andre wasn’t staring at their surroundings, but rather at Nick.

  “Who are you worried about?” Andre’s tone was flat. “Morgan? Or the kids locked in with her?”

  Oh. Jenna must have finally told Andre the truth about Morgan. “I couldn’t tell you, Andre. Patient confidentiality.”

  He didn’t tell Andre that it was Jenna’s confidentiality he was protecting. Morgan didn’t care who he told about their sessions, had made it clear that he was free to talk to Lucy or Jenna or anyone because as she put it, “I won’t be confessing anything anyone can use against me.”

  She was wrong, revealing vulnerabilities that she herself was blind to. Despite Morgan’s permission, Nick had kept their sessions private, just as he would for any client. But Jenna had specifically asked him to not tell Andre what she’d told Nick about her first encounter with Morgan, and Nick had honored that, difficult as it was.

  “Bullshit. You knew what she was, and you let me invite her into my home, introduce her to my Grams. You let that, that—” he sputtered into silence.

  “That kid who’s trying to get her life together?” Nick supplied.

  “Hell no, don’t go playing Mr. Everyone Has Some Good In Them with me. She’s a stone-cold killer. And now I have to figure out what to do with her before she hurts someone else.”

  “Sending her into a volatile situation like ReNew is hardly the answer.” Nick allowed his own anger to edge his voice. Andre wasn’t a patient anymore—he was a friend—so Nick didn’t have to hide behind a therapist’s mask of neutrality.

  Andre gave a grunt. “Jenna’s idea. Now that I know the truth about Morgan, makes me wonder if it wasn’t her way of getting rid of her—I don’t think she would have minded if Morgan never came back out.”

  He paused. They both knew a place like ReNew couldn’t hold a girl like Morgan. “I’ve never seen Jenna act the way she does around Morgan. Not angry, more like vindictive, resentful. Before I knew the truth, I was the one defending Morgan, reminding Jenna that Morgan saved her life.”

  “Exactly why she deserves a chance. How many stone-cold killers do you know who would have risked their lives like that?” Nick asked, proving his point.

  Andre jerked his chin, not actually agreeing, but at least considering. “Jenna called her a psychopath. Thought there was no cure for that? So why’d she do it, save Jenna from the Zapatas?”

  “Sociopaths make up one to four percent of the population. Not all of them are violent or even criminal. They do what serves their needs and wants, often are impulsive, and require increasing levels of stimulation. But they can also be extremely driven and focused, single-minded. Think CEOs and neurosurgeons, prosecutors, politicians.”

  “If Morgan is focused on staying out of jail, not hurting people, she’ll most likely be able to succeed?” Andre’s voice held a tinge of skepticism, and Nick didn’t blame him.

  “No one can predict anyone’s success in this world, and Morgan has more to deal with than her sociopathic tendencies—being exposed to her father’s depravity at such a young age caused her lasting damage.”

  “Cut the clinical BS. Is she dangerous or not?”

  “Morgan is smart enough to know that between you, Jenna, myself, and Lucy, if she steps out of line, she’s going to prison. She’ll avoid that at all costs.”

  “She steps out anywhere near me, and it won’t be prison she has to worry about.”

  “Then maybe you and Jenna shouldn’t be putting her in situations where she has no control. Like sending her into that detention center all alone. Do you know what those places are like?” Nick knew he did. Andre had been sent to a juvenile facility when he was seventeen. At least he’d been given a choice between serving his time in prison or joining the marines.

  “It was Jenna’s idea,” Andre repeated. “But, we might still need to go through with it. If we don’t find anything else to point to a reason why Bree killed herself.” He paused, waiting for Nick to protest. Nick in turn waited for Andre to ask the question he needed to ask. “Unless . . . is Morgan dangerous? To someone else, like those kids?”

  “You know the answer to that,” Nick said in a low voice. “We’re all dangerous, given the right circumstances.”

 
“Stop splitting hairs, Nick. If we sent her into a place like ReNew, would we be putting the other kids in danger?”

  “The fact that you’re even asking the question proves my point. If you truly thought Morgan couldn’t control herself, you wouldn’t even be considering that option. Which means you believe she can change.”

  “This isn’t about what I believe—”

  “No. It’s about innocent kids. If Morgan is their best chance, if something is going on at ReNew, then how can you not send her?”

  “I thought for sure you’d say no.”

  Funny, Nick had as well. But somehow, despite all he knew about her—more than Andre, more than Jenna, even—he had faith in Morgan. Especially after yesterday’s session when she’d shown a glimmer of empathy for BreeAnna. “One thing I’ve learned about Morgan. When she wants something as badly as she wants to shut down ReNew and find the truth behind BreeAnna’s death, nothing is going to stop her.”

  “Lot like Jenna that way.”

  It was Nick’s turn to grunt. “How are things between you two?”

  “Sometimes great, sometimes I dunno.”

  “As if she’s holding back?” Nick had noticed the same thing in his sessions with Jenna. It was the most Nick could say without violating privilege. But it was more than enough to let Andre know he was worried about Jenna. Obviously Andre was as well.

  But as always with Jenna, there were no easy answers.

  “Where is she now?”

  “She and Greene are at ReNew, getting eyes on the situation.”

  “But you think you’ll still need to send Morgan inside.”

  “I hope not. You know Jenna, though. Once she decides she wants something, she doesn’t stop until she gets it.”

  Nick wondered why Jenna was so obsessed with this case. Did she see some reflection of her own past traumas in BreeAnna’s life? He still didn’t know everything that had happened to Jenna when she was a child, but there were obvious parallels between Jenna’s wealthy yet emotionally distant family and the Greenes.