It’s full dark by the time Zale and I say goodbye.

“I’ll tell you the same thing I told Elora, Grey. I’m not askin’ you to keep my secret. That’s too big a burden. If you need to tell about me, I won’t do anything to stop you.”

I think about that, but then I shake my head. “You’re safe with me.”

He told me the truth. And he didn’t have to. He could have lied. Stayed hidden.

I look down at Elora’s ring on my finger.

He didn’t have to give me back that piece of her, either. He could have kept it for himself.

Zale smiles with obvious relief.

“You’re safe with me, too,” he says. “I promise you that.”

He reaches for my hand and gives it a quick squeeze before he disappears, and my heart races with the energy of his touch. I stand up and grab for the wooden railing outside the kitchen door to steady myself, but something bites at me and I draw back with a hiss. It’s too dark to see, but I feel a long splinter lodged under the skin of my palm. I figure I better get on inside and let Honey dig it out, so it doesn’t end up getting infected. But when I open the kitchen door, I hear Honey upstairs, laughing on the phone with her sister. And that could be a while. So I head back to my bedroom to find Case’s Saint Sebastian medal in my underwear drawer.

That’s one huge secret I can’t let fester any more.

As soon as Honey gets off the phone, I’ll show it to her. And she’ll know what to do.

I wrap the little medal back up in the tissue and stick it in my pocket, then I go out to the front steps to wait.

Only someone is already out there. Waiting for me.

Hart’s curls are wild and tangled, and his shoulders are slumped. He’s staring out at the river as the smoke of an exhaled cigarette lingers above his head in the yellow porch light. Honey would kick his ass from here to Kinter and back if she caught him smoking on her front steps, but judging by the looks of him, he probably doesn’t care.

It makes me jumpy to know that maybe he was sitting right here, just on the other side of the house, while Zale and I were out back.

I slip off Elora’s ring and hide it in my pocket like a stone before I drop down to sit beside him. I feel my secrets, huge and heavy.

If I fell into the river, the weight of them would pull me straight to the bottom.

I know Hart can feel them, too, but he doesn’t say anything. He just keeps his eyes on the river as he shakes out another cigarette and lights it up. I watch him pull the smoke into his lungs and hold it for a long time before he finally blows it out.

“I don’t know what to say,” he tells me. “About last night. I just –”

My cheeks burn. “Forget it,” I mumble. “It doesn’t matter.”

I feel the dull throb of the splinter lodged deep in my palm.

The beginnings of heat and redness.

Infection.

“Don’t say that, Greycie. It matters.” Hart flicks away ash and puts the cigarette to his lips again. “It’s just, everything’s all fucked up.” He tips his head back to exhale words and smoke at the same time. “I’m all fucked up.”

We sit there together for what feels like a long time. Silent. And if he can feel anything from me at all, I hope Hart feels how much I love him.

After a few minutes, he gets up and walks across the boardwalk to stand on the dock and stare out at the wide, rolling water. He doesn’t even smoke. He just lets his cigarette burn all the way down until it becomes a column of ash and finally goes out in his hand.

He’s burning himself to the ground.

The air moves, and Evie’s wind chimes ring out like voices. They sound like whispered secrets.

And warnings.

I get so lost in their musical murmuring that the other voice doesn’t register at first. Not until I see Hart turn around with his jaw set tight.

And there’s Case, standing not five feet away from him.

Jesus.

Where the hell did he come from?

“You hear me? We gotta settle dis, Hart.” When I get to my feet and cross the boardwalk, Hart moves to put himself between Case and me. “I didn’t do shit to Elora. And you know it.” The look in his eyes makes it clear that Case is itching for a fight.

And Hart is happy to give him one.

His muscles coil, and I grab for his arm. But it’s too late. He launches himself at Case without a word, and they both go down. Hard. Spilling across the dock. While I watch. Frozen.

They trade blows – all fists and elbows – as they roll together on the white boards. They growl and snarl. Two mad dogs going after each other. If Honey were here, she’d turn the hose on them, like she used to do with the mean old hounds that Evie’s uncle, Victor, kept out behind the house.

I hear a screen door slam, and Evie appears beside me on the boardwalk. I wonder if she was watching us again. Spying on Hart and me from her bedroom window.

I reach to put an arm around her, and Evie presses herself against me, halfway hiding behind my back. Every time Case lands a punch, I hear her react with a pained little yelp, and when he somehow scrambles to his feet and kicks Hart hard in the ribs, she muffles a scream.

Hart manages to get to his feet, too, still holding his side, and he grabs Case by the neck with one hand, slamming him back against a wooden post so hard I feel my own teeth rattle inside my skull. But then Case shoves him backward and they both lose their balance and go down again, rolling toward the edge of the dock.

Toward the roped-off rotten place and the long drop to the dark water below.

“Hart!” I call out his name in a panic.

That’s when Evie pulls away from me. “Stop it!” she hisses. And at first, I think she’s talking to Hart and Case. But then she crouches down low with her hands over her ears. “Leave me alone!” Her voice is desperate. “You’re lying!” Eyes clamped shut. “Stop it!” she wails over and over. “Stop it! You’re a liar!”

And I know then she’s talking to somebody else. Someone I can’t hear.

More feet behind us. I look over my shoulder as Mackey, Sera, and Sander appear out of the shadows. They must have come from Mackey’s place, toward the upriver end of town.

“Shit!” Sera’s eyes flicker from Case and Hart to me and finally to Evie, crumpled up in a heap on the ground. “Shit. Shit. Shit.” She motions to Sander, and he goes to Evie and pulls her up to her feet, so he can wrap his arms around her.

Mackey looks back toward the houses lining the boardwalk. But there’s no point. This time of night, everyone is safe inside dozing in their recliners. Windows closed. Curtains drawn. Big window-unit air conditioners humming and rattling. TVs blaring.

Nobody is coming out to stop this.

Hart and Case grapple and roll. Punching at each other. The sound of boot heels against wood. Blood spraying across white paint.

Then Hart gets his hands around Case’s throat. And he doesn’t let go.

That’s when I know they really will kill each other if someone doesn’t put an end to this.

And I don’t want to watch anyone die. Definitely not Hart. And not Case, either.

Not even after what he did to Elora.

“Hart!” I yell his name again. “Stop it! You’re gonna kill him!”

Hart’s crying now. Sobbing and grunting. Totally out of control. And it scares me. He flips Case over on his back, and he’s slamming his head against the dock over and over, choking him.

“Hart! Please!” My voice sounds hoarse, and I realize that I’m crying, too. I didn’t even know it. “Stop!”

Hart glances in my direction, and then I see him look down at Case, red-faced and gasping for air.

“Don’t,” I tell him. “It won’t bring her back.”

Hart lets go then. He stands up and stumbles backward. He has the same look in his eyes that he had last night. After we kissed. Like he doesn’t know where he is or how he got here.

Case scrambles to get his feet under him. Even in the moonlight, I can see the marks on his throat. But he’s not ready to call it quits. He takes a step toward Hart, and Evie screams again.

“Case,” I shout. “Stop! I know what you did! I found it! I found your medal!”

I reach into my pocket. Denim rubs against the throbbing splinter in my palm, but I ignore the pain and dig the medal out for them to see.

Hart and Case both freeze. They’re breathing hard. Soaked. Dripping sweat and blood.

“What the fuck, Greycie?” Hart sounds sick. Like he’s having trouble talking around whatever is rising up in his throat. He’s looking at me like I just stabbed him in the gut.

“Where’d ya get dat?” Case demands. He takes a step toward me, but Hart grabs him by the shirt and yanks him backward. I wrap my fingers tight around the medal.

And I feel that throbbing pain again.

“It was on the floor in Honey’s shed,” I tell him. “Where you dropped it. The night you killed Elora. When you stole that old black trunk to put her body in.”

Hart’s eyes go wide. And I’ve never watched anyone drown before, but that’s what the look on his face makes me think of. “Jesus Christ, Greycie.”

Behind me, I hear four identical gasps as Evie, Mackey, Sera, and Sander all realize what’s happening here.

“You found out she was planning to run off with someone else,” I say. “She sneaked away that night. To meet him. While everyone was playing flashlight tag. And you found out about it somehow. Only you couldn’t let her go. So you killed her.”

The truth sounds so terrible, flung out into the night air like that.

“Hell no!” Case turns and spits a broken tooth on to the dock. “Fuck dat!” His red hair is matted with blood, and one eye is already swollen shut. “Dat ain’t what happened.”

Hart shoves Case to the ground. He lies there, sprawled out in front of us while Hart towers over him. “Then you tell me what did happen.” Hart gives him a hard kick in the ribs, and we all wince. “Before I kill your sorry ass.” His voice breaks, and he chokes hard on tears and blood. “What happened to Elora that night?”

“I don’t know,” Case insists. He clutches his side and sits up, wiping at his destroyed face with the back of his arm. “I told everybody dat. I been sayin’ it all along.”

“Then why did I find your medal in Honey’s shed?” I ask him. “With Elora’s blood on it.”

“Oh, God.” It’s Mackey behind me. “I think I’m gonna puke.”

Hart’s staring at the medal in my hand. He sways a little on his feet, but he doesn’t go down.

Evie’s breathing changes. She moans and sucks in air with a rattling, hitching wheeze. Covers her ears again.

And I feel bad. Because none of them were prepared for this. They didn’t know it was coming.

“What the hell, Case?” Sera’s sharp voice cuts through the chaos. Her river-sand-and-copper braid swings behind her back.

“It ain’t my fault. Dat’s where Wrynn lost it is all.” Case starts to stand up. But Hart gives him another good kick. He groans and rolls on to his side. “Only she didn’t tell me about it till it was months later. I swear.”

“Wrynn?” Hart’s face is really swelling up. His bottom lip is busted wide open. And it makes the word come out thick and twisted.

Case nods. “Wrynn told me she found my medal dat night. Lying right here. On dis dock.” He manages to sit up, then he wipes at his face again. “Goddammit.” Now Case is the one who’s crying, big tears that make tracks down his cheeks through the smeared blood. “I loved ’er, you buncha assholes!” He glares at Hart. At all of us. “Since we were twelve years old, I fuckin’ loved ’er.” He pins me down with his eyes. “You know dat’s right, chere.”

And maybe I do, but loving someone doesn’t mean you won’t hurt them.

A heavy fog is rolling in off the river, and it wraps us all in thick, wet misery.

“Wrynn told me she saw da rougarou go after Elora dat night. Now, maybe dat’s true, and maybe it ain’t.” Case shrugs. “But she said she picked up dat medal. After.” He points a swollen purple finger in my direction. “And den she got scared. She’s just a kid, right? So she went and hid in Miss Roselyn’s shed. And dat’s when she dropped Saint Sebastian. Only she didn’t tell me till later.”

“So you came back for it,” I say, and Case nods.

“Been lookin’ for it all summer.

“Because you knew if anybody found it, it’d make you look guilty.”

Case shakes his head. “I came back for it ’cause Wrynn wanted it. Little Bird loved Elora, too.” He stares us all down. Like he’d just as soon throw us in the river as look at us. “And dat medal is the only thing of Elora’s she had.” His voice quivers, and he turns his head to spit more blood. Then he struggles to his feet. “You all ain’t gotta believe me. But I swear to God, I didn’t kill my girl.”

“She wasn’t your fucking girl,” Hart snarls through clenched teeth.

Case puffs up like a pissed-off bullfrog, but then he deflates right in front of our eyes. Like somebody stuck him with a pin. “I didn’t kill her, Hart,” he says. “I never touched a hair on her goddamn beautiful head. I swear dat on my mama’s life.”

The two of them stare at each other for a long, silent minute while the rest of us stand there holding our breath. Waiting for one of them to throw the next punch.

“He’s telling the truth.” Hart’s voice is so quiet, I almost don’t hear him.

“But –” I start.

“Dammit!” Hart turns and kicks an old wooden crate as hard as he can, sending it skittering across the dock and crashing into the river. We hear the splash. “I said he didn’t do this. I feel it clear now.”

“Hart –” I reach for his hand, but he flinches away from my touch.

“Don’t,” he growls.

Then he stalks off down the boardwalk toward his house, leaving the rest of us reeling. And he doesn’t look back.

Evie wails and tears herself away from Sander to take a few steps after Hart, but Sera puts out a hand to stop her. “Let him go, Evie. He’ll be okay.”

And I’m relieved. Because it’s not Case. He isn’t the one. But I’m also lost, because . . .

if it wasn’t Case . . .

     and it wasn’t Dempsey Fontenot . . .

          and it sure as hell wasn’t a swamp werewolf . . . then who killed Elora?

“Hart’s been wastin’ all dis time talkin’ shit about me.” Case’s voice is low and wounded. “And I ain’t never hurt nobody. Y’all shoulda know’d dat.” He looks at us, one by one. But nobody meets his eyes. “Hell. Hart shoulda know’d dat.” Case turns and spits. More blood. “That asshole got one thing right, though. Elora wasn’t my girl. Not any more.” The bitterness drips out of his mouth like the blood drips from his swollen nose. “I told you dat, Grey. You find whoever it is she was runnin’ around on me wit’, and I bet you find who killed ’er.” He turns to go.

“Case, I’m sorry, I –”

His words cut me open. “I don’t need your fuckin’ sorry. I need to know what happened to Elora.”

“Me too,” I tell him.

And then I let him go. Because there’s nothing else to say.

The five of us who are left look at each other. Evie’s wind chimes are whispering again.

“Who was Elora in love with?” I ask.

But all I get are blank stares and shrugs. I look around the little group.

“Was it you?” I ask Mackey.

“Me? Nah.” Mackey shakes his head. “It was never like that between Elora and me.”

“Who, then?” I turn to look at Sander. “You?”

He looks at me, surprised, and shakes his head. Then he pushes those sand-and-copper waves out of his face, so I can see his eyes, and he blinks at Sera like there’s something he wants her to tell me.

“Sander likes boys,” she says, just like she’s telling me the sky is blue. And it’s clear I’m the only one out of the loop on that.

Why are there so many holes in what I know about the people I’m supposed to know best?

Why haven’t I been paying attention?

Suddenly, I wonder if Zale was telling me the truth this morning. When he said he and Elora weren’t in love. The thought makes me nauseous. Because I believed him so easy.

But what if he’s the one?

“If Elora was in deep with anybody,” Sera is saying, “it was probably some guy from upriver. One of the Kinter boys she was always messin’ around with. Somebody like that.”

Great.

That could be any of a hundred guys.

I turn my attention to Evie. She’s burrowed into Sander’s chest. Her hair covers her face, and she’s still crying softly. “Evie,” I tell her. “If you know something. Or if you’re hearing something. Voices or –”

“I don’t,” she sniffs. “I’m not.”

“If you’re hearing Elora –”

“Stop it!” she wails, and Sera shoots me a dirty look. “I’m not!”

“Please,” I say. Evie looks so much younger than almost seventeen. She looks like a little girl. Terrified and lost. And it makes me feel awful. I make my voice as gentle as possible. “I need you to tell me the truth.”

She pulls away from Sander and looks at me.

“Just leave me alone, Grey. There isn’t any truth to tell.” Her arms are wrapped tight around her chest. “Why can’t everybody just leave me alone?”

Victor’s voice slices through the fog. Thick and slippery with alcohol. He’s calling from their front porch. “Evangeline! Where you at? Git yur ass in here, girl!”

I see Evie flinch at her uncle’s words.

“It’s okay, Evie,” Sera soothes. “Everything’s gonna be okay. Come on.” She slips her arm around Evie’s shaking shoulders. “Let’s get you home, sè.”

Sera and Sander practically carry a still sobbing Evie back toward the boardwalk with Mackey trailing behind them. He looks back over his shoulder to give me a sad smile.

“You get on to bed, Grey.” Mackey’s voice is kind, but his eyes are worried. “It’s not safe out here this time of night.”

Then the dark gobbles them up.

And I’m all alone.

I head back across the boardwalk to the light of Honey’s front porch. I’m still clutching Elora’s good luck charm. Case’s Saint Sebastian medal. I sit down on the steps, slick with damp, and stare at that rust-colored smudge on the back.

My best friend’s blood.

Evie’s wind chimes start to sing again, soft this time. And I think maybe I hear my name whispered in the fog.

“Grey?”

I should go inside. The whisper comes again, over the tinkling of all those chimes. “Grey?”

The hair on my neck stands on end.

“Elora?”

But it’s Wrynn who steps out of the shadows. She comes to sit beside me on the steps. Mosquito bites dot her skinny legs like a bad case of measles, and her long red hair is heavy and wet. She’s still wearing that dime on the CheeWee-stained string around her neck.

Her face lights up when she sees the medal in my hand. “You found it!” she squeals. “I wanted it back so bad. And Case couldn’t find it for me. But you did.” I let her take the little silver charm from me. If Case didn’t kill Elora, then I guess the medal doesn’t mean anything. Besides, I figure Elora would want her to have it.

Wrynn notices the splinter in my palm. It’s raised and angry- looking. Bright red and hot as fire. She runs her finger over it, and I suck in air through my teeth.

“It hurts,” she says, and I nod. Tears prick at my eyes, but I blink them back.

Everything hurts this summer.

Wrynn takes her own palm and lays it over mine. Her touch is soft and cool. And when she pulls her hand back, the splinter is gone. I trace the spot where it should be, and the skin is unbroken.

Perfect.

I remember Honey telling me once that people used to call on Wrynn’s grandmother – Ophelia’s mama – when they were sick or hurting. Because she had a gift for easing a fever or making broken bones whole, just by laying on a hand.

Psychic healing.

I stare at my palm in wonder.

“I tried to do it to Elora,” Wrynn whispers. “But she was already gone. And I cain’t fix gone.”

“She was dead,” I say, and Wrynn nods. Her eyes are solemn. She rubs at the little saint’s medal. Elora’s good luck charm.

“When I came back, she was.”

“What do you mean, when you came back?”

“I saw dat rougarou snatch her by da arm and open up wide, like he was gonna eat Elora right up. All dem sharp teeth showin’.” She shivers. Scoots closer to me on the step. “So I got scared and took off. Hauled for home. ’Cause I sure didn’t wanna see dat. Left Elora dere all alone with him.” Wrynn sniffs. “And I’m awful sorry I did it. But den I got to thinkin’, maybe I could help ’er. So I went on back.”

“But she was already dead.”

Wrynn nods again. “I was too late, Grey.” She points a skinny finger toward the dock. “Elora was layin’ right dere all bloody. And no heart beating in her chest. Not a bit of life in her no more.”

I close my eyes against the image, and Wrynn goes on.

“I tried to fix ’er. Only I couldn’t.” She shakes her head. “Cain’t fix dead. But I found dis lying dere beside her.” She holds up the little medal. “So I kept it.”

“Then what?”

She frowns. “I heard him comin’ back.”

“To get her body,” I say, and Wrynn nods.

“So I went and hid. In Miss Roselyn’s shed. Only . . .” She stops, too afraid to go on. But I know her story isn’t finished.

“Only he came in there, too, didn’t he?” I ask her, and Wrynn nods again. Her whole body is shaking, and she’s chewing at one dirty fingernail.

“I stayed hidden way back in one corner till he was gone. And I was so quiet, Grey. More quieter than a mouse. I didn’t even breathe.”

“He took something, didn’t he?” I suggest. “From the shed. He took a big old trunk. A black one.”

Wrynn nods one more time and closes her eyes tight against the memory of whatever she saw that night. Her words come out in a terrified whisper that makes me wonder how I could ever have believed she was just making up stories.

“Then I took off. But I dropped my medal somehow. Couldn’t tell nobody, though. Not for one hundred and one days.”

“Because of the curse,” I say.

“I don’t wanna be no rougarou.”

“Then you told Case.”

More than three months later.

Wrynn nods and opens her eyes. “Only he couldn’t find it for me.” She lays her head on my shoulder, and I feel her sticky little hand in mine. “But you did.”

“Wrynn,” I tell her. “Listen to me. This is really important. You have to tell me who killed Elora. Who did you really see that night?”

She sits up to look at me, confused. “You know who it was, Grey. I told you.”

“Who killed Elora, Wrynn?” I grab her by her skinny shoulders and give her a hard shake. “Tell me the truth!”

The sound of my own voice scares me, and I guess it scares Wrynn, too, because she stands up and pulls away from me. When she steps out on to the boardwalk, the moon illuminates her big eyes and her pale skin so that she almost glows. Goose bumps cover her head to toe.

“Just tell me!” I beg her. “Please!”

“I already told you,” she whispers. “It was da rougarou.”

Whatever she knows, I’m not getting it out of her. At least not tonight.

“You better get on home,” I say. “Case is hurt bad. He might need you.”

Wrynn stares at me. “Daddy and the boys are out night fishin’. Way down at Sawdust Bend. Nobody but me and Mama home tonight.”

She starts off down the boardwalk, but before the darkness swallows her up, she turns back to look at me.

“Dat ol’ rougarou? He’s a shape-shifter, sure enough. So you be careful, Grey. He may come right up on ya. Might sit down real close. Maybe even hold your hand. And you won’t ever know it till you see dem teeth.”

Wrynn turns and disappears into the night, but her words float back to me like the sound of wind chimes.

“And by den, it’s too late. You’re already dead.”