I fiddled with my fingers as we sat silently in Blake’s bedroom.
“Who do you think killed them?” Blake asked, staring up at the ceiling. Neither of us had said a word since we’d arrived twenty minutes ago. It hadn’t taken me long to calm down. Although Blake couldn’t find the words to comfort me, he’d had no trouble letting his actions do the talking.
I shrugged. That was a question I asked myself about a thousand times an hour, and the answer never changed. I don’t know. “I don’t want it to be any of them.”
“You’d prefer it to be me,” he whispered, his hand freezing on my knee where he’d been making small circles since we’d sat down.
“No,” I replied. I should’ve seen that coming. I hated that he felt like an outsider with everyone. As far as I was concerned, he was stuck with us. He was part of our group now. “I should probably want that, but I don’t.”
He pushed himself up on his elbows and raised an eyebrow. “Of course you do.”
“I don’t. Honestly. I don’t want the killer to be anyone I know. There has to be another explanation.”
“But there isn’t, is there? We both know Lawrence was pretty pissed off, but it’s not him.”
Deep down I knew that, but I couldn’t admit it aloud and make it real. “Eventually you’re going to have to accept that one of your friends is a killer.”
“Who do you think it is?” I asked. He had said Kyle a couple of times before, but Blake’s reasons were ridiculous. I think his suspicions had more to do with the fact that they’d got along the least that night.
“I don’t know.” He flopped back on the mattress. “No one’s saying much. I still think Kyle, but I’m not ruling the other two out just yet.”
They have said much, just not to you. I had learned things about my friends recently that had shocked me. Everyone had a reason for wanting to hurt Josh and Courtney. Should I tell Blake and see if he could figure it out from what I knew? He wasn’t as close as I was to the others, so perhaps there was something blindingly obvious that I was missing.
“Blake,” I said slowly, still mentally debating whether I should say anything or not. Bad idea, Mackenzie.
“Yeah?”
I couldn’t stop myself. “There are some things about Megan and Kyle you don’t know.” I was officially the biggest bitch on the planet.
His expression didn’t change. “What things?”
“They had motives,” I whispered.
The air turned so thick I thought I was going to choke. I kept forgetting that Blake wasn’t just around to help me out; he was a “person of interest” too and Josh’s brother. “Go on…”
Why had I ever thought it was a good idea to tell him? Of course he was going to think their secrets made them guilty. He wanted someone to pay for Josh’s death and already thought one of them had blood on their hands.
Not only was I a horrible friend, but I was an idiot too.
But I’d gone and told him they had motives, so I couldn’t backtrack without him getting suspicious and thinking the worst—of me. He’d probably think I was trying to cover my tracks.
“Josh blackmailed me. You resented him,” I said, making it clear we each had motives and he couldn’t just jump into blaming the others. “Megan spiked Gigi’s drink, which forced Courtney to drive the night of the crash that killed Gigi and Tilly, and Kyle was having an affair with Courtney.” The words left a bitter taste on my tongue.
“Courtney was cheating on Josh?”
“Yeah. Kyle said it ended a few months ago, but it went on for a long time.”
Blake snorted. “Well, my brother was a cocky, arrogant bastard and probably deserved it.”
My spine straightened in shock. That wasn’t the reaction I’d expected. At all. “Blake, what…?”
“Come on, like you didn’t think the same. Something like that would have deflated Josh’s ego a bit. I’m just disappointed he never knew. What about Aaron?”
“What?” I shook my head, trying to keep up. Now Blake was on to Aaron? Talk about doing a one-eighty. “What about him?”
“What’s his deep, dark secret?”
“Um. He doesn’t have one.”
He smirked and looked at me as if to say ah, bless. “Of course he doesn’t. He’s squeaky clean.”
“You think he does?”
“What I think is that nothing would surprise me anymore. Everyone has at least one skeleton in their closet, and you need to ask yourself why Aaron is still hiding his.”
“It’s possible he has no secrets, or no secrets to do with Josh and Courtney, anyway.”
Blake was up and in my face so fast it made me dizzy. His close proximity made my head do that swimming thing. If he wanted to have a serious conversation with me, he was going to have to keep a distance. “Mackenzie, you are far too naive and far too trusting.”
I pushed myself back, putting a little space between us. I was flat against the wall, so I hoped he didn’t move any closer because I was finding it hard to breathe as it was. “So I’ve been told.”
“People will take advantage of you.”
I wrapped my arms around my stomach. “Sorry for not wanting to believe my friends are murderers.”
“I’m not saying it’s a bad thing, but you need to be careful. Your need to see the best in everyone is going to bite you in the arse. You’re blinded by the faith you place in other people, even strangers.”
“Are you talking about you?”
“Yeah, me too. You believe I didn’t kill Josh and Courtney, but you know so little about me other than that I resented my mum and brother, and put a man in hospital.”
My lungs burned with the need for oxygen but I couldn’t get them to work. What’s he saying? “Are you telling me you did it?”
He sighed. “No, Mackenzie, I’m telling you that you wouldn’t be able to tell if I were guilty. Which one of your friends is most likely to have murdered Josh and Courtney?”
“I don’t know. None of them.”
He smiled and cocked his head to the side. “There you go. You know it’s one of us, but you refuse to face it. You know them more than anyone else. You know which one of them is the most likely, even if you won’t acknowledge or accept it.”
I bit my lip hard enough to taste blood.
“Gut instinct, Mackenzie, who is it?”
“I don’t know, Blake!” I hopped off the bed and paced his room. What was he doing to me? He watched me like a hawk. “I don’t know. I have no bloody idea!”
“You do.”
“No, I don’t!” I shouted. “Stop it, you…you arse!” He broke out into a full smile that was filled to the brim with amusement. “I want to punch you so bad right now.”
“Look, I’m not trying to piss you off—”
“Then stop pissing me off.”
“You want my help or not?”
I shook my head and walked out of his room. “No, I just want you to leave me alone. I’ll walk to get my car.”
He didn’t follow me as I left his house, but I didn’t expect him to. He wasn’t the type to run after a girl. It was getting late, and the dim streetlights just about lit my way. I was supposed to be at Megan’s, but I couldn’t face it. The air was warm, it being August and the middle of a “heat wave,” but I still wrapped my arms around my chest.
I was halfway home when my phone beeped with a text message. I still had to pick up my car from the station at some point.
80% of victims know their murderer. Think about who you know, Mackenzie.
My feet planted to the ground. Sucking in a shaky breath, I reread the message. What was this? A threat?
It was from the same number as the other sinister text messages. My heart raced and pulse throbbed in my ears. I looked over my shoulder, clenching the phone in my fist. No one was around—that I could see, anyway. I held my breath and strained to listen for footsteps or some other sound that someone was following me. The wind blew softly, rustling leaves on nearby trees, but I couldn’t hear anything else.
Because maybe they’re standing still watching you.
A shudder ripped up my spine and I started walking faster.
I was breathing too hard to hear anything else. Taking another glance over my shoulder, I scanned the surrounding area. Somewhere behind me, I heard a door slam. The thud sounded wooden, as if it came from a shed. I didn’t care what it was. I broke into a sprint.
I didn’t see or speak to any of my friends that night because I was too freaked out. One of my friends is probably the killer.
I found myself obsessively reading the mysterious text messages and googling the cell number. There were no details listed. Of course.
I sat on my bed with my legs crossed, staring at my phone. Was I being told I knew who’d killed Josh and Courtney, or was someone trying to tell me I could be next?
What did it all mean?
Blake thought I already knew the killer. Could these messages be from him?
Could it be Megan, Kyle, or Aaron?
• • •
Monday, August 24
That night, I barely slept. In the morning, I rubbed my stinging eyes and reached for a bottle of water on my bedside table. My head hammered with a splitting headache.
“Morning, sweetheart,” Mum said, poking her head around my door. “Are you OK?”
“Morning. I’m fine. Are you and Dad going to work now?”
“Just about to leave. Are you sure you don’t want to come to the office with me?”
“I’m sure, Mum.”
She leaned against the doorframe and folded her arms over her chest. “OK. Promise you’ll call if you need anything?”
“I promise, but really, I’m OK.”
“Are you seeing anyone today?”
“And by anyone you mean?”
“Will you be seeing any of your friends?”
“No, I’m not feeling very sociable today. I’m just going to lounge in bed and watch rubbish daytime TV.”
“All right.” She smiled and grabbed the door handle, ready to close it again. “We’ll see you later. Call if you need anything.”
“I will. See you later.”
I looked at my phone. There were so many missed calls and text messages. I’d blown everyone off last night and stayed home instead of getting pizza at Megan’s, and although I felt bad for letting them down, I wanted to be alone too much to care. The secrets Kyle and Megan had hid from me kept picking away at my sanity. I was exhausted, fed up, and emotionally drained. I just wanted the truth.
And someone had sent me that scary text, which I didn’t know what to make of.
I wanted to go and see Aaron, but I didn’t. I wanted to see Blake, but I couldn’t handle another one of his theories or lectures. I wanted to be alone, but I didn’t want to be by myself. And then there was Pete. He had been hurt, possibly because he found out who killed Courtney and Josh. Or possibly because he was in the wrong place at the wrong time.
Groaning, I gripped my hair and flopped down onto the mattress. Why couldn’t it be clear? If one of my friends was the murderer, they were not only hiding the truth, but they were also allowing the rest of us to be suspects. How far would they let it go? If I were somehow charged, would the real killer let me go to prison?
That wasn’t friendship. I would never put myself before someone I love. Wow, Blake was right. I was too trusting.
Somewhere between overthinking and throwing clothes from the heap on my floor in frustration, I had a moment of clarity. One of my friends was lying to me, and I had to look at the details the way Blake did.
This was beyond proving our innocence now. Those texts were threatening. My stomach turned over in fear. The killer could want more blood.