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Such a Quiet Place: A Novel(87)

Author:Megan Miranda

But his face barely changed, his voice steady and measured. “Oh, no, Harper, don’t you dare. I only went with the information you provided me.”

“You pushed us to it,” I said, remembering the message board post that I’d found in Ruby’s things.

“No one needed any pushing. You were all too willing.”

I stepped closer, lowered my voice. “I know what Mr. Monahan saw. What Tate and Javier saw. And you buried it.”

His face went slack. “Two people who think maybe they saw someone in the dark? Eyewitnesses don’t hold up the same as hard evidence, especially in the dead of night. We had the evidence. The rest was just noise. I’ve done nothing but give you all full transparency. Every one of you. If I made any mistake, it was that.”

“It wasn’t for you to decide.”

“You’re right,” he said, his words coming faster, with more bite. “It was their decision not to say something in the end. You want to blame someone? Look in the mirror, every one of you. I only tried to keep this place safe. I only tried to keep you all safe. You were my friends. My community. I knew you all. I knew you wouldn’t do it. Tell me, was I wrong?”

“You must’ve been wrong about someone, Chase.”

He breathed in sharply through his nose. “Okay, Harper, go ahead. Who do you think it would be if it wasn’t Ruby?” He raised his sunglasses like he expected me to understand. And I did, even as I was fighting it. The same truth that we all understood: If it wasn’t her, it must’ve been one of us. And none of us wanted to believe it.

“I don’t know,” I said.

“Really, now?” He leaned closer, just slightly, so I had to tip my head up to look at him. “I know what Ruby said to Mac down by the lake.”

I flinched, and I could see in his face that he knew he’d made a mistake. Mac had told me that Ruby didn’t say much, that she was drunk and not making any sense. Mac had lied. “What?” I asked.

Chase waved a hand between us, took a step back.

“What did she say, Chase. You said transparency, so prove it.”

He nodded once, as if conceding the point. “Apparently, she said, Harper, of all people, can you believe it?” And then he smiled. “What do you think she meant by that?”

I shook my head. She meant because I’d been seeing Mac. She had to. Or maybe because I’d taken the keys she’d hidden. Or because I’d yelled at her just then, at the party. She couldn’t mean what Chase was implying. But the others here could make it seem that way.

Mac had known and said nothing. But he’d told Chase. The boys’ club, making sure to keep one another safe.

“You’re all just protecting yourself,” I said, taking a step back. And Chase was no different. Trying to clear his name. So he could convince himself everything he’d done was worth it. I took another step back, and he stood there, watching.

“I told you from the start to be careful, Harper. I told you she was dangerous.”

And I remembered that we were in the one place with no cameras. That someone had poisoned her, standing feet away from where we stood. That someone had seen Margo’s baby in the car and left him there, too.

That we were all dangerous people here.

* * *

EVERYTHING WAS SPINNING OUTSIDE my control again. I could feel it, circling around me. Circling toward me.

I needed to know who had been inside my house the night the Truetts died. And how they’d gotten in.

My patio gate might’ve been left open—we didn’t lock it often back then, believing in our perceived safety—but the back door to the house should’ve been locked. Especially since Ruby appeared to leave from the front.

I stepped down onto the patio. Ruby had always had a key, of course. But I was starting to wonder if she’d left a spare out here. She’d already hidden the large key ring out here. But I couldn’t imagine she’d bury a spare.

There were only so many places it could be. There were no potted plants or doormats to conceal a key. I ran my fingers along the top of the doorframe but came away with only dirt and grime, damp moss clinging to my fingers. I tried lifting the bricks at the edge of the patio to see if anything was wedged underneath, but they were adhered firmly to the base.

The only furniture out here was an Adirondack chair and matching wooden footstool, the perfect spot for reading. I ran my hands under the armrests, checking the spaces between the slats. I came away with nothing but the debris left behind from weather and time.

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