I think of us in this room again, smoke whirling around as Lucy picked up that knife, my reflection gleaming in the metal. The way she had gotten up and gone outside, leaving her phone behind. I know they’re going to find it today. It’s dead now, it’s been dead for a while, stashed under her bed, beneath her clothes, just like we planned.
“So I’m going to ask one more time,” he continues, shifting his weight from one leg to the other. “If you know where your friend is, you need to tell us.”
“We don’t know where she is,” Sloane says, practically pleading, but it’s all an act. I know it’s an act. We’ve rehearsed this so many times. “We weren’t concerned before but we’re worried now, too, okay? We’ve been trying to call, but—”
“But her phone is off,” he interrupts. “Or dead. We know.”
“You said you questioned her about Levi,” Nicole says. “Maybe she took off because she didn’t know what else to do. She acts tough, but she’s only human like the rest of us.”
Detective Frank looks at Nicole for a beat too long, bored with her monologue.
“She was probably terrified,” she adds weakly.
“You know, the more we learn about Lucy, the more questions we have,” he says, ignoring her. “Does that surprise any of you?”
“No,” I say when it becomes clear that Sloane and Nicole aren’t going to answer. “That sounds about right.”
“How exactly did you all meet?”
“She’s very outgoing,” Sloane says. “She’s never had a problem approaching people she doesn’t know, striking up a conversation.”
“And charming,” Nicole adds. “She can make friends with a wall.”
“Did you see Lucy spending any time with Levi alone on the night he died?” Detective Frank asks, shifting gears so quick it takes me a second to catch up.
“No,” I say at last, remembering the way he had stood up and immediately stumbled, legs limp and loose like a wobbly fawn. The way Lucy had looked at me, smiling, before she got up, too. “It was a big party. He was there, but we only saw glimpses of him.”
“Glimpses,” he repeats.
“Yes. We didn’t really hang out with him.”
“Who did you hang out with?”
“Each other,” I say, as if that should have been obvious.
“That’s not what I heard from other people who were there.”
“You didn’t ask about other people.”
Detective Frank stares at me, put off by my tone.
“You asked about us,” I add.
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“It means I don’t know what other people saw,” I continue. “But we didn’t see them alone together.”
“So you never saw them hugging, touching, nothing like that?”
“No, never.”
“Interesting,” he says. “Then why did we find her blood on his clothes?”
CHAPTER 30
BEFORE
I wake up to find my bed empty, nothing but the still-warm imprint of Nicole by my side. I glance at the clock, it’s almost eleven, before flinging myself from bed and walking into the living room.
“Good morning,” Lucy says, a mug of coffee in her hands, chipper as ever. They’re all out here, all three of them, Sloane and Nicole looking as miserable as I feel. “You doing okay?”
“Yeah,” I say, even though that’s not quite true. I fell asleep eventually, the dawn-lit windows making my room just light enough for me to finally relax, but the events of last night have left me exhausted, a weariness in my mind that even six hours of sleep couldn’t erase.
“Did you get sick?” Sloane asks, looking up at me. She’s still in her makeup from last night, a swipe of mascara streaked across her cheek and a single gold hoop still stuck in her ear. “It smelled like puke in here this morning.”
“Not sick,” I say, glancing at Nicole. She’s staring into her lap, skin tinged green and body swallowed by Trevor’s sweatshirt, fingers pulling at the sleeves. “Just … scared, I guess.”
“She was all paranoid about people breaking into the house,” Lucy says, laughing. The sound of it grates on me, especially considering how afraid I was, but I try not to show it. “I basically had to force her inside.”
“That explains why you disappeared,” Sloane says, smiling. “Kind of an intense atmosphere for your first time.”