Mother's Day Murder. Leslie Meier

stove, coated with grease and burned-on egg. One of the girls had slopped milk on the counter when she fixed herself a bowl of cereal, the table was covered with toast crumbs, and the dog had gotten into the garbage, scattering soggy tea bags, empty cans, and bits of empty food packages across the floor.

      Lucy was reaching for the sponge when Elizabeth appeared and asked if she could do a load of wash before leaving for Boston.

      “I don’t think there’s time,” said Lucy. “I have to get to work by nine.”

      “But my bus isn’t until eleven. Can’t you come home and take me then?”

      “I guess so,” grumbled Lucy, thinking of her boss Ted’s reaction. He’d been acting like a bit of a Tartar lately, becoming a real stickler for punctuality and keeping a close eye on Lucy’s time card. Unable to think of any other explanation, she’d chalked it up to male menopause.

      Two and a half hours later, it went exactly as she had imagined. “Where the hell do you think you’re going?” he demanded as she headed for the door, with her keys in hand.

      Phyllis, the receptionist, who also handled classified ads and events listings, gave her a look. “The listings are especially heavy this week,” she said.

      “I have to take Elizabeth to the bus. I’ll be back in a flash,” promised Lucy.

      “Make sure you are,” warned Ted.

      Lucy shrugged it off; she was already late, but she wondered what exactly he had in mind. Was he threatening to fire her?

      When she got home, Lucy found Elizabeth dressed and waiting impatiently for her ride, the clean clothes packed in a duffel. The kitchen, which she had tidied before leaving for work, was once again a mess, with the stove and countertop filled with dirty pots and mixing bowls. The fruit basket, which she had filled on Saturday, was empty.

      “I hope you don’t mind. I made some food to take back. Healthy stuff, like brown rice salad and grilled vegetables and fresh fruit.”

      “No problem,” said Lucy, a bit grudgingly but unwilling to end Elizabeth’s brief visit with an argument. Now, of course, she’d have to stop at the grocery on her way home from work, something she hadn’t been planning to do. Lucy sighed and grabbed the cooler Elizabeth was “borrowing” to carry the food back to Boston.

      “I thought you’d be glad I won’t be eating fast food,” said Elizabeth, grabbing the duffel and following her mother out the door.

      “Sorry. I’m just distracted,” said Lucy, starting the car. That was a fancy cooler she’d snagged at an end-of-season sale last fall; she’d never be able to replace it for what she’d paid.

      “Yeah, I’m worried about Sara, too,” said Elizabeth, fastening her seat belt.

      Lucy’s head snapped around. “Why are you worried about Sara?”

      “She was up half the night, text-messaging her friends.”

      This was news to Lucy. “What is she doing that for?”

      “It’s what kids do now. Instead of talking on the phone, like we used to do, they use their cell phones to send text messages. That way nobody can overhear them. Nobody knows what they’re saying. It’s more private.”

      Lucy considered this as she turned out of the driveway. Come to think of it, the phone in the house hardly ever rang anymore. Thanks to the family plan, they all had cell phones, even Zoe. The days when the kids would scramble to get to the household phone whenever it rang were over; they knew it was only likely to be a telemarketer or one of their parents’ friends.

      “But why do they send these messages at night?” asked Lucy.

      “Because that’s when they’re alone. There’s nobody looking over their shoulders, nobody watching them, nobody noticing.”

      “Okay, I guess I understand that. There’s nothing the matter with a few messages before she gets tired and turns the phone off.”

      Elizabeth turned and faced her mother. “Mom, they’re not exactly telling each other to sleep tight.”

      “No?”

      “No. They play these mind games with each other. They start fake rumors. They tear each other apart.”

      Lucy couldn’t believe it. “Sara wouldn’t do anything like that.”

      “Maybe not, but that doesn’t mean her so-called friends aren’t doing it to her. Last night I heard her crying under the covers.”

      “I’m amazed.” Lucy braked at the stop sign. “I didn’t know anything about this.”

      “I bet you don’t know she has a page on myspace. com, either.”

      Lucy didn’t know. “She does?”

      “Yes. And you know that sexual predators prowl those sites all the time, looking for unhappy, vulnerable kids.” Elizabeth sighed. “And believe me, that’s most high school kids.”

      Alarm bells were beginning to ring in Lucy’s head. Was this what had happened to Corinne? Had she met someone in a chat room, someone who seemed to understand her and appreciate her, but turned out to be some sort of sexual predator? “I’ll have a little talk with her,” she said, pulling up at the Quik-Stop, where the bus picked up passengers.

      “Before you do that, I think you should do some research, okay? You need to know what you’re up against.” Elizabeth handed her a slip of paper. “This is how you can break into myspace.com.”

      “Thanks for telling me,” said Lucy as Elizabeth climbed out of the car. “Have you got your bus ticket?”

      “No, I didn’t have enough cash for a round trip.”

      Lucy couldn’t believe it. Just when she thought Elizabeth was all grown up, she’d go and do something stupid, like taking a trip without bringing along enough money. And now there wasn’t time to go to the ATM. “How much do you need?” she asked, hoping she had enough cash in her wallet.

      “A couple of twenties would do it, Mom.”

      Lucy handed them over, leaving herself with a couple of tattered singles.

      “Thanks for everything, Mom.” Then the bus pulled in, Lucy gave her daughter a quick hug, and she was gone, in a puff of diesel exhaust. But the concerns she’d shared with her mother about Sara lingered like heavy smog, clouding Lucy’s mood.

      When she got back to the office, Ted was gone and Phyllis was waiting for her return so she could go to lunch. “Now that I’m on this maintenance diet, I’ve got to eat every three hours, or else I get so hungry, I overeat,” she explained, smoothing her gray sweater set over her flat tummy. “I get all shaky, you know, ’cause I don’t have any reserves.” She looked over her shoulder. “And you know how Ted is these days. He threw out the sign with the little clock that said back in whatever minutes.”

      It was true. They were under strict orders to never, ever leave the office unattended during business hours.

      “I’m sorry,” said Lucy. “I had to get Elizabeth to the bus. It isn’t as if she discussed her plans with me. It’s always last minute with her.”

      “You’re too soft on those kids. You let them walk all over you,” said Phyllis, who never hesitated to give child-rearing advice, even though she’d never married and was childless.

      Maybe she’s right, thought Lucy, listening to the little tinkle of the bell on the door as it closed after Phyllis. She sat down at her desk and shrugged out of her Windbreaker, letting it slip down between the chair and her back. She started working on the listings, then impulsively switched to the Internet and went to myspace. com, where she followed Elizabeth’s directions and called up Sara’s page. It was a bit of a shock to see a photo of her daughter on her computer, but she had to admit it was a flattering picture. There were also several