BRETT SAT UNDER a beach umbrella and peered through binoculars at the condo’s balcony. Jeff and Maddox had just gone inside. Their shoulders were squared. There was an air of seriousness about them. Were they off to have a conversation, too, something like the one Jeff and Seneca had had earlier? Not that Brett had been able to hear everything, but he knew parts of it had been deep. He’d also heard a little bit about a PhotoCircle. Look through as many photos as you want. Knock yourself out.

Just as he was getting a good, long look at Seneca, Aerin, and Madison on the balcony—Aerin had no idea that he could see a little down her shirt when she leaned over—static crackled on the iPad on his lap. An app showed a closed-captioned feed of Camera A. Chelsea stood in front of the full-length mirror, admiring her reflection. “That’s right,” he murmured. It was incredible what a shower and new clothes could do for the psyche. Even prisoners wanted to look pretty for their last meal.

A Bruce Springsteen song he loved lilted through the air from a nearby radio, and he lay back on his elbows and tilted his head to the sky. Some days, it was really good to be him. But he only allowed himself to enjoy a few self-congratulatory moments before peering at the condo again. He could just make out Jeff and Maddox through the windows in the living room. They were sitting close together, talking. After a moment, Jeff rose and left.

Brett scowled. Why did they all think Jeff was such a gem? He thought of all the times Chelsea had come to him last year, crying, distraught, insecure. Jeff never compliments me. He says my beauty is beside the point. Once, Jeff wrote a song for Chelsea where he compared her to an African elephant, the strongest and most beautiful matriarch on the savanna. A goddamn elephant! He thinks I’m fat and disgusting! And then there was the day three months ago when she told him the secret Jeff had finally confessed. Brett had demanded to know why she still hung out with him—she should cut him off, then and there. Chelsea had shrugged. He knows what I think about him—it’s why we broke up. But we have a long history. It’s complicated.

Then she’d leaned in and fluttered those pretty lashes, and Brett knew what she wanted. And he was more than happy to give it to her.

Brett noticed a familiar figure starting down the beach with a surfboard under his arm and flinched. Speak of the devil. He hurriedly shoved the iPad, remote, and binoculars into his bag and zipped it up in the nick of time.

“Hey,” Jeff said, suddenly above him. He looked surprised. “What are you doing here?”

Brett laced his hands behind his head and gave him a friendly smile. “Just enjoying a little me time. You?”

“Yeah. Same.” Jeff stared at him. Brett tried not to bristle, but suddenly, Jeff’s gaze felt…intrusive. Almost like he knew that tucked inside his bag was a camera feed of his precious ex-girlfriend. Could he know? Brett didn’t blink, thinking innocent thoughts. Though Jeff waved and turned a second later, heading for the water, there was something distracted about his walk, as though he was thinking something through. Seneca and the others didn’t have all the pieces of the puzzle, but Jeff almost did—it was one of the reasons Brett planted the seed of Jeff’s guilt. And now that he was working with Seneca, he might put the pieces together even faster. Maybe something more needed to be done.

Pulling out his phone, he logged on to CNC and looked at Seneca’s message thread. Chuckling softly, he thought about the new message he would send…and what he had in store. It was perfect. And it was going to blow them all away.