Chapter 2

Vallejo stalked into the room, a steaming cup of cocoa in his grips, looking very unpleased and very serious. "Third, glad you could join us."

Ingrid couldn't pull her eyes away from Cheri. Were those tear tracks on her face? Ingrid had, literally, never seen her cry, and she would remember. "What happened? What's Cheri doing here?"

Vallejo cast an eye across the station and sighed heavily. "We got an anonymous tip early this morning about some stolen routines. We searched the girls' locker room and found a whole stash of video surveillance, multiple tapes for every school in our district."

Ingrid felt a hard ball of dread clench in her stomach. "But what makes you think that Cheri had anything to do with it? Vallejo, she's-"

"The tapes were in her locker, Ingrid. Her locked locker."

"Crackers." Ingrid clenched her fists at her sides. "I know Cheri, she wouldn't do something like this. She couldn't."

"Ingrid," Fillmore said in the voice he usually reserved for when one of the patrollers was getting carried away. It'd been a long time since he'd had to use it on her. Ingrid closed her mouth and averted her eyes from his questioning glance.

Vallejo sighed again, like this really was paining him to say. It probably was. "We've already called this in to Folsom, and she wanted you two on it A.S.A.P. Cheri's the head cheerleader, the student body president,-"

"The founder of 'All Dogs Go To Good Homes'." Vallejo and Fillmore cast her strange looks, so she shrugged and said, "Photographic memory."

"The point is, she's an important student here at X. She's the poster-child for perfect, and if these allegations turn out to be true, we need to handle it immediately. Folsom was very particular about that part." Vallejo shuddered a little, and Ingrid could only imagine the speech she'd given him (her threats had only gotten worse since they'd moved up to the big leagues).

"Don't worry. We're on it," Fillmore said, jaw set in what Ingrid liked to refer to as his "Justice Will Be Served" face.

Vallejo gave them a tight nod before heading off to his office, sipping daintily from his cocoa (most of the patrollers had moved on to actual coffee, but Vallejo was a stickler for the classics). "You until the end of the day."

Ingrid was already looking back at Cheri. She looked so out of place, all bright blond hair and bright red outfit against greyscale walls. It couldn't have been Cheri. There had to be another explanation.

Then Fillmore's hand on her shoulder, a familiar weight after all the years, and Ingrid turned to look at him. "Hey," he said, voice in that soft-rough place he used when he was worried, "I know you two are friends. Are you alright?"

You don't know the half of it, she thought, thinking of the way Cheri's fingers had gripped her hips last night, but she said, "Yeah, I'm good. Just- Let me talk to her for a minute? I know Cheri, and this just isn't like her."

Fillmore looked conflicted for a moment, casting a quick glance over to where Cheri was chained up, before he was nodding. "Alright, you got it. Just, keep your head in the game. I know it's tough, but not everyone's who you want them to be."

Cheri glanced up for the first time and met Ingrid's eyes across the room. She looked scared and miserable but most of all determined. "I know, Fillmore," Ingrid said, even though she couldn't believe it, even though she could never. "I know."

Cheri didn't look any less out of place in the interrogation room. Now that she was closer, Ingrid could see where her mascara was smudged- like she'd been crying. The nail polish on her right thumb was chipped, which meant Cheri had been biting her nails (because there was no way in hell Cheri would even consider going to a competition was cracked nail polish. She'd almost kicked a girl off the squad for committing such a terrible faux paw). The last time Ingrid had seen Cheri biting her nails had been at the party the previous spring, just before she'd followed her into the supply closet.

"Cheri," Ingrid said, and she was already glad that she was getting a few minutes alone with Cheri, because her voice broke just on that word. She cleared her throat and tried again. "Cheri, I need you to tell me what happened."

Cheri's eyes flashed, and, for a moment, she looked angry, not just sad or scared. "One of my girls." Her expression cracked, and the betrayal seeped through. "How she could do it, I have no idea. The team- We're like family. You know what that's like." Her gaze flicked up to meet Ingrid's, and of course she knew what it was like. They'd talked about it before- bonded over it.

Ingrid sunk down into the chair across from Cheri with a long sigh. "I'm going to need a few more details. Break it down for me. An alibi would be great."

Cheri rubbed at her eyes, and it only succeeded in smearing her makeup more. "I got here early, like any other Saturday, but as soon as I got here Coach Laurel pulled me over to talk about the cheer uniforms because some of the girls had been complaining. You see, we're supposed to where these sparkly ribbons in our hair so they'll, like, catch the judge's eye when we're preforming, but some of the girls having been saying that they totally itch, but I say that it's completely worth it if, like-"

"Cheri!" Ingrid exclaimed, interrupting Cheri's tangent off into what Ingrid terms her "Cheery Cheri" territory. She raised an eyebrow at Cheri's chagrinned look. "Back to the point?"

Cheri cleared her throat. "Right, the point. So, I didn't get into the locker room until thirty minutes later, by which time most of the team was there, and then not even two minutes after I walk through the doors, Safety Patrol officers are knocking, claiming they received an 'anonymous tip'-" Cheri actually held her fingers up in air quotes when she said "anonymous tip."

Ingrid's eyes softened despite herself. "You can't put air quotes around 'anonymous tip,' dear. We actually did receive an anonymous tip."

Cheri rolled her eyes and hissed conspiratorially, "Yeah, like, from the criminal." Cheri shook her head clear. "Anyway, they opened up my locker and there they were, all piled into a dusty green bag that totally clashed with my cheerleading uniform." Cheri made a face of disgust at that (the clashing, not the illegal copies of stolen routines).

"How about that alibi? You run half the clubs in this school, there must be some evening that you're unquestionably accounted for on those tapes."

Cheri was already shaking her head. "They won't tell me much, but they asked me a few questions about where I was and what I was doing on some dates. Most of them were Fridays, Ingrid, including last night."

Ingrid perked up immediately. "That's perfect. I was with you all evening, it's a wonderful alibi."

Cheri was shaking her head again. "And what did you tell your parents we were doing, hmm? Or your friends here at the Safety Patrol? Personally, I told mine I was staying late at the gym to work on the routine.-" Ingrid furrowed her eyes, but before she could ask, Cheri said, "One of my gyms is 24 hours." Because Cheri went to four gyms.

Ingrid had told Fillmore she was with her parents, and her parents she was with Fillmore. "Cheri, this is serious. You can't go down for this; you'd lose everything."

Cheri smiled softly, but her eyes were fierce. "I won't go down for this, Ingrid. You're on the case."

Something occurred to Ingrid. "Crackers, Cheri, I can't work on this case."

"What do you mean? Ingrid, I need you."

Ingrid shook her head. "Cheri, do you realize what a huge conflict on interest this is for me? You're my-" except they never used the word "girlfriend."

"They know we're friends, and they're letting you work on this. And I know for a fact that you've worked on cases for other friends in the past."

"Cheri." Ingrid closed her eyes, pinching the bridge of her nose. "You know full well how much more than friends we are. If they knew, they'd never let me work this."

"Then we won't tell them, Ingrid." Cheri's voice was soft again, and Ingrid opened to see that gentle smile of hers, the one Cheri had worn when she'd told Ingrid "I don't want to see anyone else." "It's not like we were exactly planning on it, Ingrid. We don't tell them, and maybe I won't have an alibi, but you'll be on the case. You'll find whoever really did this for me. I know you will."

Looking into Cheri's eyes, Ingrid would. She would do anything and everything in her power to find the culprit. For Cheri, not for justice. Not because it was the right thing to do. She just hoped that Fillmore would never find out, because if he did, the look in his eyes- After everything that had happened Freshman year, the last thing Ingrid wanted was to lie to him.

"Yeah, Cheri. You're right.