I nodded.
Then she added something unexpected.
“There's one more thing. We interviewed Alex again.”
My heartbeat quickened.
“What did he say?”
“He admitted that someone supplied him with personal information about Margaret Wilson.”
I gripped the telephone.
“Who?”
“He refused to identify the person directly.”
My heart sank.
“Then what did he say?”
The detective paused.
“He told us to examine the first photograph in his backpack.”
I went still.
“Agnes?”
“Yes.”
“What about her?”
Ortiz's voice became serious.
“Alex said the first woman wasn't a target at all. She was the person who taught him how to approach the others.”
That night, I couldn't sleep.
Mom was resting in her bedroom while I sat at the kitchen table.
I had spread the Seven Oaks photograph in front of me.
Seven women smiling beneath an enormous tree.
Seven friends who had once promised to protect one another.
Now the group was shattered.
