Lucy Gosling had imagined a lot of different ways that her friendship with Harper McKenzie might end. None of them had involved finding Harper’s dead body in a swimming pool in LA.
But there she was, floating face down in the bright turquoise water. A cloud of blood wove itself around her, tangling with the chlorine and the orange rays of dawn sunlight to wrap her body in a halo of neon pink.
Harper would love that color.
Lucy marveled at the stray thought as it sank through her brain. What was wrong with her? It wasn’t as though she’d spotted a nail polish she thought Harper would like.
It was blood.
There was so much blood.
“Is this Harper McKenzie?” asked Detective Hernandez, the LAPD officer in charge of the scene.
“Yes,” Lucy said. She felt as though a thin layer of cotton wool was wrapping itself around her, filling in her ears and nose and mouth, making it difficult to breathe.
Harper was dead.
No, she wasn’t just dead. She’d been shot.
What happened, Harper? Lucy raged silently at the girl she’d never get the chance to bicker with again. What did you do? I was your best friend. Why didn’t you talk to me?
Lucy looked down at the single charm that dangled from her wrist. The little half heart read BFF. Best Friends Forever. She couldn’t see it from where she stood, but Lucy knew that Harper still wore the other half.
The charms were silly. Kids’ stuff. She had laughed at Harper when she’d insisted that Lucy dig out the tiny relic from their childhood, but it really had been lovely to wear it again. To feel like it was true again. And despite everything that had happened that summer, neither girl had taken the charm off.
Lucy felt the first tear slip down her cheek.
Detective Hernandez was asking questions, but Lucy couldn’t hear him. She couldn’t seem to focus on anything but the single sentence that was playing on repeat inside her head.
Harper McKenzie was dead.