Chapter 8 - What Vanessa Knew
Vanessa Prescott refused to speak without counsel.
Then the state attorney general’s office joined the grant investigation.
Her attorneys changed strategy.
She agreed to answer limited questions about Naomi.
Vanessa sat across from Detective Ortiz and Daniel Mercer.
Taylor watched through observation glass.
Grace should not have been there.
She knew that.
But Taylor had asked for her.
“I don’t want to sit alone,” she said.
Grace almost refused.
Then remembered the restroom.
Being surrounded.
Being watched.
Not wanting anyone to see fear.
“I’ll stay outside,” Grace said.
That was the compromise.
Vanessa’s interview began.
“Did you know Denise Blake met Naomi Bell after Naomi left her mother’s new residence?”
“Yes.”
Taylor closed her eyes.
“Why?”
“Naomi contacted Denise.”
“How do you know?”
“Denise called me.”
“What did Naomi want?”
“Protection.”
“From whom?”
Vanessa hesitated.
“From the school.”
Mercer stared.
“The school whose grant you administered.”
Vanessa ignored him.
Ortiz continued.
“Why did Denise take Naomi to your cottage?”
“She needed somewhere to stay.”
“Why not police?”
“She didn’t trust police.”
“Why not a licensed youth shelter?”
“Naomi refused.”
“Then what happened?”
“Denise contacted me.”
“When?”
“The next morning.”
“What did you do?”
Vanessa looked toward the observation glass as though she knew Taylor stood behind it.
“I told her Naomi could not stay there.”
Taylor whispered, “Of course.”
Ortiz asked:
“Why?”
“Because if anyone discovered she was on my property, it would look terrible.”
Grace almost laughed.
Naomi’s safety reduced to optics.
“What did Denise do?”
“She moved her.”
“Where?”
“I don’t know.”
Taylor slammed her palm against the wall.
“She’s lying.”
Grace looked at her.
“How do you know?”
“She always knows.”
Inside, Ortiz repeated:
“You expect us to believe you never asked?”
Vanessa’s face tightened.
“I told Denise to arrange somewhere safe.”
“With whom?”
“A woman she knew.”
“Name.”
Vanessa paused.
“Marianne Holt.”
Mercer immediately searched.
Marianne Holt.
Former district counselor.
Retired three years ago.
Address in Fairmont County.
Police drove there.
Marianne answered the door herself.
Naomi was not there.
But she had been.
Marianne admitted Naomi stayed twelve days.
“She was frightened.”
“Where did she go?” Ortiz asked.
“I don’t know.”
“Why did she leave?”
“She discovered I was reporting back to Denise.”
Grace heard later.
Naomi had run again.
This time leaving her phone behind intentionally.
That explained why the phone eventually reached Briarwood.
Denise had it.
Denise had planted it in the auditorium.
“Why?” Grace asked Mercer.
“To confuse the timeline. To suggest Naomi returned voluntarily.”
“Why would Denise care?”
“That is what we’re trying to establish.”
The grant audit provided the answer.
Denise Blake’s technology office had altered survey exports before submission to the state.
Not individual student answers.
Aggregated numbers.
Reports showing 312 bullying complaints became 171.
Then 123.
Then 96.
She claimed she was instructed to “clean duplicate data.”
Emails showed Vanessa requested the changes.
Hale approved them.
Naomi had screenshots comparing the raw and submitted versions.
If those became public, the state could demand grant repayment and investigate false reporting.
Denise had taken Naomi to the cottage not purely to protect her.
She wanted the flash drives.
Naomi refused.
Marianne tried again.
Naomi fled.
Now nobody knew where she was.
Grace was furious.
“She keeps getting away from adults trying to manage her.”
Mercer nodded.
“That seems accurate.”
“Then maybe stop treating her like evidence.”
He looked at Grace.
“What do you suggest?”
“Figure out what she wants.”
That evening Grace went through Naomi’s messages.
Not confidential police material.
The copies Naomi herself had placed on the flash drive.
One sentence appeared repeatedly.
I want somewhere nobody benefits from me.
Grace understood.
Vanessa benefited if Naomi disappeared.
Denise benefited if Naomi surrendered evidence.
Andrea benefited—unfairly, desperately—from settlement money.
The school benefited if complaints vanished.
Even Evelyn? Not yet in this story. Could avoid introducing new character.
Grace thought of Mrs. Williams.
What did she gain?
Nothing.
She lost hours.
Risked her job.
Naomi had trusted her.
Grace called Mrs. Williams.
“Where would Naomi go if she wanted nobody using her?”
The custodian was silent.
Then:
“Somewhere she already felt safe.”
“Where?”
“Not a person.”
Grace sat straighter.
“What do you mean?”
“Naomi used to stay after school in the old greenhouse.”
Briarwood had an abandoned horticulture classroom behind the athletic fields.
Closed after mold remediation.
Students weren’t supposed to enter.
Mrs. Williams continued.
“She painted there sometimes.”
Police searched it that night.
No Naomi.
But they found recent charcoal drawings on the walls.
One showed a woman carrying trash bags.
Mrs. Williams.
Another showed Grace on her knees in the restroom.
Grace went cold.
The drawing was recent.
Naomi had seen the viral video.
Then a third drawing.
A map.
A bus line.
A church symbol.
Mrs. Williams recognized it.
“St. Matthew’s.”
A church downtown operated a youth drop-in center.
Detective Ortiz called.
A volunteer remembered Naomi.
She had come in twice.
Last visit:
Yesterday.
“She’s alive,” Andrea whispered.
The volunteer said Naomi refused to provide an address.
But she left something behind for “the girl from the restroom” if anyone trustworthy asked.
A sealed envelope.
Grace opened it under Ortiz’s supervision.
Inside:
Grace, I’m sorry.
You didn’t deserve to become proof.
Then:
If you want the last copy, don’t look for me. Look where Taylor keeps all the things she thinks make her important.
Grace looked at Taylor.
Taylor’s face changed.
May you like
“My trophy case.”
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