Free Blood of Dawn by Tami Dane

I knew for a fact that wasn’t true. Any form of alcohol could be detected on someone’s breath. “No thanks.”
    “Suit yourself.” She took another swallow, capped the bottle, and stuffed it back into her bag. “I don’t want to be here.”
    “Me neither.”
    She turned around, ass resting on the sink. “I don’t want to talk anymore. What’s your story?”
    “Me? I don’t have a story. I’m just here because I have to be. I wasn’t happy when I heard about it.”
    “Nobody is. School sucks balls. It’s summertime. I should be working on my tan, not doing fucking algebra.”
    “Yeah.” I wasn’t about to tell her that baking in the hot sun was about as enjoyable to me as having a tooth extraction.
    “My friends are all going to the shore today. And here I am.” Something in her backpack buzzed. She shoved her hand in and pulled out a phone.
    I smoothed on some lip gloss, trying not to cringe at my reflection in the mirror as I listened in on her end of the conversation. Unfortunately, she said very little. When the call ended, she looked at me, said, “Fuck this,” and left.
    I guessed she was heading to the beach.
    I debated whether I should hang out in the bathroom, alone, until the bell rang or head to algebra. The thought of sitting in a classroom, learning how to solve uber easy linear equations I could do with my eyes closed, made my brain ache. But sitting in the girls’ bathroom all day wasn’t going to get me a permanent gig with the FBI.
    Steeling myself for an hour of simplifying expressions, I took a deep breath and headed out.

I have known a vast quantity of nonsense talked about bad men not looking you in the face. Don’t trust that conventional idea. Dishonesty will stare honesty out of countenance any day in the week, if there is anything to be got by it.
    —Charles Dickens
    7
    The rest of the day crept by at a snail’s pace. It was torture, but not in the way I’d expected. The subject matter was dull. Most of the teachers were trying their best to get the students involved and interested, but they were failing. In a nutshell, I was very glad to be leaving, and I was dreading going back tomorrow. The one highlight had been that little chat I’d had with Megan. She hadn’t given me any useful details, but I now knew that Stephanie Barnett had sneaked out to a party. Others had to have seen her. Maybe even with the killer.
    I tossed my backpack onto the backseat and flopped into the driver’s seat. My phone was in my fist, and I was about to call JT to bring him up to speed when his ringtone sounded.
    I hit the button. “Great timing. I was about to call you.”
    “I just got off the phone with Forrester. A third girl is dead.”
    “Already? This guy’s moving fast.” I stuffed the key into the ignition and cranked it. “I’m at the school. What’s the address?”
    “He’s thinking this one isn’t a murder. If it is, the MO is completely different. He’s on his way to the scene now.”
    “Do you have the address?”
    “I do. But you can’t go. Chief’s orders.”
    “But I can be there in five.”
    “And what if some of the students see you? Your cover will be blown.”
    I glanced out the window, watching the parking lot empty. A few stragglers were just leaving the building. “You’re right. It’s bad enough I couldn’t use a fake name to go undercover. I’m trying to keep my last name quiet. I guess that means I won’t be able to go to any of the crime scenes from this point forward. At least, not until I’m done with this assignment.”
    “Are you complaining?”
    I thought about the nausea, the jangling nerves, and the awkward conversations with grieving parents. “Of course not. I’d never complain. Anyway, I had an interesting conversation with a friend of Stephanie Barnett’s today. Barnett sneaked out to a party the night she died.”
    “Interesting. What else did the friend know?”
    “That’s it. Nothing else. They split up. She dumped