We drove for several miles in silence. I don’t know what Marty had on his mind, but I had a multitude of thoughts bombarding my brain cells all at once. Did any or all of the three girls know Jamie was allergic to bee stings? Could our teenage threesome be a group of sociopathic murderers? Who did they catch a lift from, and did they really not know who the driver was? I didn’t think so. Marty was right about one thing: Miss Katie Hepburn and her two friends were being less than honest with us. As far as I was concerned, we gave them way too much latitude when we had the chance to get answers. Now, with them lawyering up, we might have screwed ourselves. I started to question my own ability to handle this case with the same brilliance that Joe would have conducted it. Now I was in charge, and Marty was dependent on me to lead the investigation. It would be totally on me if something went wrong, and I wasn’t feeling too adequate at the moment. I murmured a strong expletive under my breath. “I don’t think I ever heard you cuss, Jean,”
