Change of Heart (20 page)

“You mean, he was distracted?”

“I mean, I don't think he understood what I was doing. Anyway, he backed off after that and stopped asking for my help.”

“That doesn't make sense,” I said. “You said it yourself—he was getting good grades. He had to if he wanted to keep playing hockey. He was going to use his grades to convince his mom that he'd still be able to go to college later if his hockey career didn't work out.”

“I know what I said. I also know what I saw. If you ask me, Sean was cut out for hockey, not college.”

“Did you help him a lot, Morgan?”

She nodded slowly. “It was getting so I was spending more time on his homework than on mine. I spent a whole night doing an English project for him while he was at the arena practicing. He called me that night at midnight, after he got home, to make sure I e-mailed the assignment to him so he could hand it in on time.”

“It didn't bother you?”

“To be honest,” she said, “I felt funny about it. But every time I decided to talk to him about it, he'd say something incredibly sweet or he'd start hugging me and, well, you know.” She let out a long, shuddery sigh. “I can't believe I fell for him. I can't believe I let him touch me.”

We were silent for a few moments. Then, at exactly the same time, we looked at each other and I swear we both had the same thought.

“If you were doing his homework for him for the past couple of weeks,” I said, “who was doing it before you?”

H

otshot, up-and-coming, popular, smart Sean Sloane.

Sean Sloane, who was turning out not to be as nice as a lot of people thought he was—at least, according to Tamara Sanders and Jon Czerny.

Sean Sloane, who was turning out to be not as smart as everyone thought he was—at least, according to Morgan.

Sean Sloane, who, it seemed, was determined to get ahead and didn't care how he did it. He had taken advantage of the publicity Tamara had been able to generate for him but had turned spiteful when he found out she was cheating on him. He had knocked Jon Czerny out of the team-captain spot. He had used Morgan to get back at both Tamara and Billy—for something that, in Billy's case, had happened years earlier. He had even gotten Morgan to do his homework for him. Had he done his own work before then? Or had he charmed someone else into doing it for him?

I looked up the number of the TV station where Tamara worked and ended up leaving a message on her voice mail. She called me back within the hour.

“Academically?” she said in response to my question. “He did okay, I guess.”

“Did you ever help him with assignments?”

“We used to do homework together,” she said. “And, yeah, sometimes when he was jammed for time I bailed him out. But that goes back at least a year. After I got my part-time job at the station, I didn't have as much time. I had enough trouble getting my own work done. Why?”

“I was just wondering,” I said.

“Sean was a smart guy,” she said. “He just had his priorities, you know?”

And priority number one was Sean Sloane.

“Morgan,” I said after I hung up. “Do you think Colin would let us look at the computer he, Sean, and Kevin shared?”

“We can ask him,” Morgan said. “Come on. He's at home.”

Colin stood in the open doorway, staring at my black eye.

“I felt someone grab me,” he said. “I didn't know it was you. Is your eye okay?”

“No permanent damage,” I said.

“Sorry.”

I glanced at Morgan.

“We need your help, Colin,” she said. She explained what we wanted.

“I don't know,” Colin said slowly. “My mom's upstairs sleeping.”

“We'll be quiet,” Morgan said.

Still Colin hesitated.

“I don't get it,” he said. “What are you up to? The cops have the guy who did it.”

“Please, Colin?” Morgan said, making her large eyes even larger and cranking her pouty charm up to maximum. “You're probably right.” I stared at her. Did she really mean that? Did she still have doubts about Billy? “But Robyn and I have known Billy since we were kids. I'm just trying to understand what happened.”

Colin peered down into her eyes, and his face softened.

“Okay,” he said reluctantly. “But you have to be really quiet. I'm not kidding.”

Morgan promised for both of us, and we followed Colin up the stairs to Sean's room. When he pushed open the door, Morgan stifled a gasp.

“Nothing's changed,” she said softly. The room was filled with hockey trophies, hockey posters, photos of Sean in full hockey gear—hockey, hockey, hockey.

Sitting on a desk near the window was a computer.

“Is it okay if I turn it on?” I said.

Colin shrugged.

When it booted up, it prompted me for a password. I turned to Colin, who merely shrugged again.

“But you and Sean shared the computer, didn't you?” I said. “Kevin, too. That's what Sean told Mr. Dormer when his locker was trashed. He said that's why he didn't keep any of his essays on the hard drive—because you and Kevin always fooled with his stuff.”

Colin looked down at the floor for a moment. I remembered that he had done the same thing when Sean had looked to him for confirmation the day his locker was trashed.

“He lied to Mr. Dormer, didn't he, Colin?” I said.

It took a moment, but he finally nodded. He looked at me.

“He never let anyone touch his computer.”

“Why would he lie?” Morgan said.

“Do you know if he wrote down his password anywhere, Colin?” I said.

Colin shook his head.

“Great,” I muttered. I glanced around the room again. There were at least a dozen full-color hockey posters on the wall. The only one I recognized was Wayne Gretzky. It was worth a try. I turned back to the computer, typed in
Gretzky
—and got an error message. I glanced at the posters again. “Who's that guy?” I asked Colin.

“You're kidding, right?” Morgan said. “Even I know him. That's Sidney Crosby.”

“Show-off.” I typed in Crosby's name—and got another error message. “So much for that. Anyone have any other ideas?”

Morgan shook her head. “It was either on or off when I was over here. I never saw him turn it on.”

I looked at Colin, who was gazing at the posters.

“Try ‘The Greatest One,'” he said. “That's how Sean always referred to himself.”

I typed the words in. It worked.

First I looked at his documents. Despite what Sean had told Mr. Dormer when his locker was trashed, there were plenty of school documents on his hard drive. I clicked into his e-mail and poked around, scanning the inbox and the outbox.

“Well, well,” I said.

Colin and Morgan leaned over my shoulder so that they could look at the screen.

“Can I print some of these?” I asked Colin. He shrugged.

“Does this mean what I think it means?” Morgan said.

“Come on,” Colin said. “You think that guy killed Sean? No way.”

I could see why he thought that. But if there's one thing I know, it's that you never know.

“Let's talk to him,” Morgan said. “Let's find him and talk to him right now.”

“We don't even know where he—”

“What are you doing in Sean's room?” a sharp voice said behind us.

I whirled around. Sean's mother was standing in the doorway. Her hair was wild. Her eyes were hollow. Her face was pale.

“Get out,” she said. “Get.
Out
.”

“Mom, you remember Morgan,” Colin began.

His mother pushed past me. She grabbed Colin by the arm and started to push him out of the room.

“This is Sean's room,” she said. “You know he doesn't like people in his room, especially when he isn't here.”

“Mom, we were just—”

“Get out,” she screamed. “You, of all people, get out!”

Colin stared at her. For a moment it looked like he was going to say something, but in the end he just turned and ran down the stairs. I heard a door slam at the bottom.

Morgan started after him. I followed. As I left the room, Sean's mother sank down on the bed. She took one of Sean's pillows, held it up to her face, and inhaled deeply.

We found Colin in the driveway, sitting in a navy blue Malibu that looked almost as old as I was. The rear bumper was decorated with hockey decals. A team pennant fluttered from a window fixture. Colin was in the driver's seat, pounding his fists against the steering wheel.

“It's my fault,” he said, his voice muffled by the closed windows. “It's all my fault.”

Morgan circled around to the passenger side and got in. I saw her lips moving, but I couldn't hear what she was saying. She touched Colin's arm and then tugged it gently so that he looked at her. Suddenly he flung his arms around her and held her tightly. I saw his shoulders heaving. Colin Sloane was crying. Morgan stared at me through the window. I know she felt sorry for him, but I think she also felt awkward. After a few moments, they separated and Morgan waved to me to get in. I climbed in the backseat of what turned out to be the messiest car I had ever been in. There were notebooks and paper all over the backseat. The floor was littered with empty pop cans and fast-food wrappers.

“I was just telling Colin that we're going to get to the bottom of this, no matter what,” Morgan said. “We are, aren't we, Robyn?”

“What good will it do?” Colin said. “What good will anything do now? You saw my mom. What does it matter who killed Sean? Nothing is ever going to bring him back.”

“It matters,” Morgan said softly. “It matters that the police have the right person. It matters that the person pays for what he did.”

“You can't pay for something like that,” Colin said bitterly. “The damage is done. Paying doesn't change anything.”

We sat there in silence for a few moments before Morgan reached for the door handle and said, “I want to find out what was going on. Maybe you don't see the point to it, Colin. But I do. I want to know who did it, and I want that person to be punished.”

“Even if it turns out that the cops are right?” Colin said. “Even if it turns out to be that guy you used to go out with?”

Morgan glanced at me. “Even then,” she said. “It matters to me, Colin. It should matter to you, too.”

Colin was silent for a few moments. Then he turned the key in the ignition. “Where do we start?” he said.

I started with directory assistance and got connected to Aaron Arthurs's home phone. His mother answered.

“I'm sorry, Aaron isn't here,” she said.

When I asked when she expected him, she offered me his cell number.

“Pen and paper,” I said, fumbling in my purse. Morgan found a pen and handed it to me. I snatched up a crumpled piece of paper from the floor of Colin's car and scrawled the number that Aaron's mother gave me. Then she said, “If he doesn't answer, it's probably because he's at his club.”