Chapter 6 - Naomi Bell
Detective Samuel Ortiz took over the missing-person investigation.
Daniel Mercer remained focused on district misconduct.
Grace learned quickly that two investigations could overlap without becoming the same investigation.
Naomi’s disappearance might be connected to Vanessa Prescott.
Or it might not.
Detective Ortiz said that repeatedly.
“People run after family conflict,” he explained.
Grace sat beside Monica in a police interview room.
“Naomi had reason to distrust adults.”
“Yes.”
“That makes voluntary disappearance plausible.”
“But someone was texting me.”
“We’re tracing it.”
“Naomi knew about Mrs. Williams’s notebook.”
“Yes.”
“So maybe she’s alive.”
“Maybe.”
Grace hated the careful answer.
Taylor was questioned for three hours.
Kendra for two.
Andrea Bell drove back to Briarwood and met investigators.
Grace saw her outside.
Andrea looked like someone who had not slept properly in weeks.
Mrs. Williams hugged her.
Andrea began crying.
“I thought I was helping her.”
Mrs. Williams said nothing.
Andrea looked at Grace.
“You must hate me.”
Grace shook her head.
“I don’t know you.”
It was the truest answer.
Andrea had accepted $25,000.
But when investigators explained the circumstances, the story became more complicated.
Andrea’s cafeteria hours had been cut after Naomi filed complaints.
Their landlord had raised rent.
Medical bills from Naomi’s asthma had piled up.
Then Prescott Community Strategies offered them relocation assistance, school placement, and money.
“I thought getting her out of Briarwood would save her,” Andrea said.
“Did Naomi agree?” Detective Ortiz asked.
“No.”
“Did she know about the money?”
“I told her it was moving assistance.”
“What happened when she learned the full agreement?”
“She called me a coward.”
Andrea cried harder.
“She was right.”
Mrs. Williams reached for her hand.
Andrea continued.
“Then she left.”
“Did she take anything?”
“Backpack. Sketchbook. Charger. Two hundred dollars.”
“Phone?”
“Yes.”
“Has it connected anywhere?”
“Not since three days after she left.”
Ortiz asked:
“Where was the last connection?”
Andrea looked at Grace.
“Briarwood.”
Grace’s pulse jumped.
“Here?”
“Her phone pinged near the school.”
“Why would she come back?”
Andrea whispered:
“She said she had something she needed to finish.”
The anonymous messages now felt different.
Could Naomi be hiding somewhere near town?
Or had someone found her phone?
Detective Ortiz searched Naomi’s last activity.
One outgoing email stood out.
Sent at 1:13 a.m., three days after she left Andrea’s apartment.
Recipient:
Lillian Williams
Subject:
I’m sorry.
Mrs. Williams had never received it because the message went to an old district address deactivated years earlier.
The email was brief.
Mrs. W, I know you tried. The numbers are real. I hid copies where people throw away things they don’t value. If Grace gets dragged into this too, please tell her I’m sorry. I thought if someone else got hurt publicly, maybe they would finally stop pretending nothing was happening.
Grace stared.
Naomi had predicted her.
Not by name, exactly.
But by pattern.
Another victim.
Another public humiliation.
Another report.
Grace felt angry.
“You knew someone else would get hurt?”
Mrs. Williams looked devastated.
“She was desperate.”
“That doesn’t make it okay.”
“No.”
Grace had learned she could hold two truths.
Naomi was a victim.
Naomi could still make choices that hurt someone else.
Detective Ortiz asked:
“What does ‘where people throw away things they don’t value’ mean?”
Everyone looked at Mrs. Williams.
She thought.
Then whispered:
“Recycling.”
Briarwood maintained a large paper-recycling cage behind the art wing.
Naomi had used it for collage materials.
Police searched it.
Nothing.
Then Mrs. Williams remembered the old recycling compactor had been replaced.
The previous unit sat in a district storage yard awaiting disposal.
They searched that too.
Inside a sealed maintenance compartment, they found a waterproof pouch.
Three flash drives.
Copies of survey data.
Photographs of altered disciplinary entries.
And a handwritten list.
At the top:
WHO CHANGED THE NUMBERS
Grace stared.
Hale.
Vanessa Prescott.
District grant coordinator Megan Shaw.
Another name appeared repeatedly.
K. BLAKE?
Kendra.
Grace looked toward her.
Kendra turned white.
“I didn’t change anything.”
Mercer asked:
“Why is your name here?”
“I don’t know.”
Then Kendra suddenly sat down.
“Oh.”
Taylor stared.
“What?”
Kendra’s eyes filled.
“My mom.”
“Your mom what?”
Kendra’s mother, Denise Blake, worked for the district technology office.
Kendra whispered:
“She used my login once.”
Mercer leaned forward.
“For what?”
“I don’t know.”
“Kendra.”
“She said the student council account had access to survey dashboards and she needed to check something.”
Taylor stared.
“When?”
“Last semester.”
“What did she check?”
Kendra shook her head.
“I thought she was fixing a permissions problem.”
Grace looked at Naomi’s note.
K. BLAKE?
Naomi had noticed activity tied to Kendra’s account.
But the person behind the keyboard may have been Kendra’s mother.
The corruption had reached another family.
Then Detective Ortiz’s phone rang.
He listened.
His expression changed.
“What?”
Grace asked.
He looked at Andrea.
“Naomi’s phone just came online.”
Andrea stood.
“Where?”
Ortiz looked at the map.
“Briarwood High.”
Grace’s heart slammed.
Everyone turned toward the school.
May you like
Naomi—or whoever had her phone—was inside the building.
---
