No wonder Chase didn’t believe him, didn’t trust him.
If Ruby had been heading home, she would’ve been on Tate and Javier’s camera. She would’ve been on their feed. But neither one of the Coras had seen or heard anything that night. They’d come in late, there was nothing on their camera.
Behind me, a car engine rattled as Tina pulled into the drive. Shit. I was stuck in the yard, working through an excuse—Just checking in on everyone—when Tina spilled out of the driver’s seat, already speaking.
“Did you tell them?” she asked, and I shook my head because I had no idea what she was talking about.
“My God, it’s so horrible,” she said. She glanced to the front porch, then back at me. “Chase called me. I’m not sure how I’ll tell them.” She looked even more haunted than the last time I’d seen her. “Antifreeze,” she whispered, shaking her head, her eyes drifting shut.
I felt the blood draining from my face, pooling in the pit of my stomach. The word buzzing in my head. “Are they sure?” I asked, pretending I was in on the information, that yes, of course, I’d come here to make sure she had heard, too.
“They found evidence of it in her system,” she said. “It’s in the autopsy report.”
And Chase had called her. I hadn’t heard any texts coming through, any calls. And I started to fear that they understood—that I would be the main suspect—and had started to distance themselves accordingly.
“Wouldn’t she have felt sick?” I asked, feeling on the verge of illness myself.
Tina must have been feeling the same, because her hand was on her stomach, and her face seemed pale, her skin dehydrated. “More likely, she would’ve seemed drunk at first,” Tina said. “And she was drinking.” She crossed her arms, rubbing her hands over the exposed skin of her forearms, as if chasing away a chill. “It might’ve tasted sweet, we learned about that in school… it’s a common cause of accidental poisoning because of that.” Her eyes closed, but I could see them moving behind the lids. “She had thrown up when I found her—”
But this—this was not accidental. This was at a pool, at a party, after a fight—when we were all afraid. Antifreeze could be in any of our garages, with the sudden winter freeze and the cars left out in the cold.
Something anyone could’ve done.
The police, I knew, would be coming back. Would be looking closely. Going through our lives, searching for our motives, shaking out our secrets.
The Coras’ front door swung open, and Tate came out, hurrying our way. “Did you hear?” she asked, arms crossed over her abdomen. Her face was pinched and her eyes were bloodshot, and I could tell from her expression that she’d been crying.
“My God, it could’ve happened to any of us,” she said. “We were all there. We were all drinking…”
The pitchers of lemonade, the sangria—we had all been drinking from the same sources. Our cups left out. The communal ice in the chest below that we scooped into our glasses.
Tate looked to each of us, wide-eyed, so unlike how she usually seemed, focused and determined. She seemed suddenly vulnerable and exposed. This realization that we didn’t know where the danger was—that we hadn’t been able to see it coming. Had stood nearby while it worked its way in silence, slowly killing her.
“Someone at the pool,” Tina said in a whisper, and I saw Tate’s throat move. The lines we’d stuck to at the meeting, the things we wanted to believe, were no longer possible.
There was no escaping the truth now.
It had to be one of us.
“How can there be two people willing to kill…” Tate said, hand to the base of her throat. Like she couldn’t believe it. The darkness at the heart of us here, with our view of the water and our lazy summer days. Our barbecues and friendships and parties. Such a close familiarity. Such a quiet place.
I caught Tina’s eye, and I knew she was thinking the same thing. There were not two killers here. There never had been. There was always just the one.
* * *
I TRIED TO STAY up that night. Watching out my bedroom window, like Ruby must’ve done. But the sleepless nights caught up with me, the fear like a spike of adrenaline, rapidly subsiding. I saw Preston Seaver walk past around ten, taking his turn on watch. But now I wasn’t sure what he was watching for.
I checked the locks. Pulled the curtains. Dreaded what I might find waiting for me in the morning. But I was drifting, and there would be nothing I could do to stop it.