I look up at him. “You killed Nate’s pets, didn’t you?”
He looks shocked. At first he seems scandalized I would think he’d hurt an animal, but then he says, “Wow, you aren’t as stupid as you look.”
“And your teacher with the anaphylactic shock?”
“That was more of a happy accident. I snatched the EpiPen from her bag. She’s the one who ate something with nuts in it.”
Blood pounds in my ears. It was Easton this whole time. He opened the door and disabled the doorbell—probably to toy with me. He was there when Marcus told me to put the paint away, and waited until everyone was asleep to go back down and throw it on the car. He did the same when the gas was left on. The hydrangeas. And he was in the kitchen alone when Miles showed up; that’s when he put the glass in the Watergate salad.
Not everything needs to be about the investigation.That’s what he overheard a few nights before the party. He always knew I wasn’t Nate, and maybe for a while he was okay with me pretending. But that all changed when he heard me talking with Miles.
Valencia had sent him to get me, and to put the recycling bin out for pickup. He must have taken the glass out of it that night. That’s the glass he put in the Watergate salad.
Maybe to keep me from talking. Maybe to put more suspicion on me. Everything escalating slowly, and the whole time I thought it was Marcus.
“How many people have you killed?” My hands are trembling. All I want to do is run, but I can’t move. Paralyzed by terror. It’s like Easton is a wild animal, and I don’t want to make any sudden movements to set him off.
He grins. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”
I’m not sure I would. Because now I know he killed Nate and JT and also had something to do with his teacher’s death. He didn’t even care if his grandmother died, which means he’s definitely going to kill me.
I have no idea why it took me this long to realize it. Or why I’m not running. I stand, slowly, so as not to startle him.
“Don’t run,” he says. He knows exactly what I’m about to do. But I have no other choice, so I bolt in the direction of the car.
I shouldn’t look back. I should run, as fast as I can.
But I do look back, and he’s there. Running after me. He has something in his hand—I can’t make it out but I think it might be a knife.
I turn toward the trees, hoping I can lose him if I duck into the forest.
His hands clasp onto my shoulder and he pushes me. I run right into a tree, knocking the wind out of myself.
Easton pushes my head against the bark.
Something sharp stabs me in the back of the neck and I scream.
“Shut up!” He pushes me again, hard. Tears blur my vision, and sobs try to rack my body but I can’t catch my breath. Easton pulls whatever is stabbing me out of my neck and I cry out. “I said shut up.”
He holds it in front of me. It’s not a knife; it’s a syringe.
“What is that?” I ask. “Did you poison me?”
He huffs. “Stop being so goddamned dramatic.” He loosens his grip on my hair but keeps me pinned against the tree. “It’s something that will knock you outifI use it.” He changes his grip to show me the needle, and though he did stab me with it, he didn’t inject whatever is inside. “I stole it from Mom’s office today. You’d think she’d be less trusting given the things she’s been through, but she left me alone in there for the better part of an hour.”
If he’s telling the truth, it’s some kind of drug to put people out if they’re getting serious dental work done.
“I’m not going to killyou. That would look strange, my best friend and my brother having accidents on the same night, don’t you think?”
I don’t answer.
“So I’m going to let you go,” he says. “But if you try to run again, I’ll catch up with you and stick this in your throat.” He looks at theneedle in his hand. “And, honestly, I can’t be sure I have the dosage right, so it might kill you anyway. Then I’ll have to leave you up here with a needle sticking out of your arm, and when they finally do a DNA test, everyone will think you’re a junkie who came up here to get high with JT, who fell off a cliff. Or maybe you pushed him.”
Easton pushes me hard against the tree. “I have contingencies for my contingencies. So don’t run.” He waits until I nod, then lets me go. I put my hand up to my neck where he stabbed me, and a little bead of blood smears against my fingers.
“Relax,” he says, putting a plastic cover on the tip of the needle. Then adds with a grin, “It’s just a little prick.” He walks back to the top of the clearing and stands over JT’s body, gazing down at it. “You have as much to lose as I do, by the way.”
“How?” I try to keep my eyes on Easton, but JT’s dead, blank stare keeps drawing me back to him.
