“What are we supposed to say?” Mac responded. “I sure didn’t notice anything.”
“Well, it looks pretty fucking suspicious that we were all there, and no one saw a damn thing,” Tate said. Her eyes flicked from person to person, challenging us.
This was how it began. When we started to winnow down the group, deciding whom it would be. Whose image would first raise suspicion when it appeared on one of our security cameras. Whom we were willing to feed to the masses. Did they even see what they were doing?
“Listen,” Mac said, the first time I’d heard him take control of anything, “it was a public event. It’s not like we live in some gated community. We’ve all noticed things happening on watch.”
“Javier, you said you heard people down at the lake on your shift, right?” Margo asked.
Javier nodded. “There were definitely people out during my shift at night. And Tate heard something the night you were on watch, too, Harper. Right, Tate?”
“Yep,” Tate said. “At like two-forty-five, a loud noise somewhere out front. I’m getting to the point where I can’t sleep, anyway.”
Was this how it really was? Were these truly the people I lived beside? I could feel it, this idea gaining momentum, that the danger was out there and not in this very room. Just like Ruby had claimed in her own denial. Someone else was out there. Someone else did it. It didn’t have to be one of us. We didn’t have to look at one another and wonder.
“We were ignoring her, mostly,” Charlotte said, and everyone nodded, though that wasn’t true. Maybe we’d tried to, but we hadn’t ignored her—we couldn’t, when she’d turned so clearly on all of us.
But there was something so alluring to it, a momentum I couldn’t stop. Something I wanted to be part of. An idea we could develop together, a puzzle we could solve, each of us with our own small piece. An image we could bring to light only collectively. Something that seemed suddenly possible.
Because we were friends and colleagues. Had known each other for years. Mowed each other’s yards when we were injured; thrown baby showers and graduation parties; pulled in the garbage cans when people were working late. We knew each other—we knew more about each other than any of us cared to admit.
“There were footprints at the pool,” I said, “the night I was on watch.” The gate swinging open. Footprints disappearing at the black pavement. “And a car driving off behind our homes.” I thought about that white car again—the one at the office. Who might’ve had cause to go there. “What about Brandon’s brother?” I was grasping, but it was another possibility. Someone who might’ve been keeping an eye on Ruby. Who might’ve been angry about her release.
Tate nodded. Finally, I was on the inside as we cast our suspicions outward.
“Listen,” Javier said, “I say we make a pact. No one tells them anything. No rumors or gossip. You know how it goes, right? We were all together. We can all vouch for each other. Let’s not complicate things.”
And I now understood what Chase had meant when he said not to dilute the evidence with rumors we couldn’t prove. The answers were simple. There was no great conspiracy. The simplest answers were most often the right ones.
Everyone seemed to be in agreement as I looked around the room. Even though the simplest answer, we all knew, was that someone here had done it.
Maybe it was because we each understood. There was a collective motive, and the focus could turn to any one of us. We had each testified. We were each afraid. We were protecting each other as much as ourselves.
We were just ignoring her, going on with our lives. We don’t know what happened. We didn’t see.
We were all good people here.
* * *
MARGO WAS THE FIRST to leave, heading for Charlotte’s to pick up Nicholas. I had started paying attention to things like this—who was leaving and who was staying. The order in which we arrived and left.
Several others stuck around to talk to Chase one-on-one. The bathroom by the stairs was occupied, but there were two upstairs, and I headed that way so I could catch Chase after, ask if he’d heard anything more from his friends—whether they were sure it was poison. Whether I had cause to be afraid.
Mac had the master bedroom with its own bathroom, the mirror image of my own. But when I went to let myself in his room, the door was locked. I guessed he had done this knowing there would potentially be a large meeting downstairs. But I found it odd.
The door to their converted office was ajar, connecting to Preston’s room through the Jack-and-Jill bathroom. I peered inside the office space, but his bathroom door was closed on the other side. It felt like an invasion to use his private bathroom. Especially since we weren’t particularly friendly.