I clench my jaw, unpinning my mug shot and crumpling it up in my hand. Underneath it is a polaroid of me that was clipped onto my string lights above my bed.
“Yeah, I thought you might do that.” He smirks. “So, how many names are in this journal exactly and whose name is next?”
“No, we aren’t playing detective. I need to just call Grange and tell him everything. I’ll point the finger at Miles and, I don’t know, they’ll go after him instead of me.”
“What solid proof do you have that Miles is behind it all? Because from where I’m standing, the only suspect in Ryan’s and Marco’s murders is you. Jonah was hit by a semitruck that flipped over the median, so we know that one was an accident.” I don’t bother asking how he knows the details of Jonah’s death, as I’m sure it was part of his research. I think about my last conversation with Grange, when he brought up last year’s events. He already doesn’t trust me. If I go to him now and tell him about Miles, he’ll wonder why I didn’t mention him sooner.
“Well... I don’t have proof, but I can try to get some.” All I know is that Miles knows that my journal exists, and he has a reason to want revenge. But neither of those things would count as evidence.
“Back to my questions,” he says. “Answer them.”
I sit on the edge of my bed. “There are seven eulogies in the journal.”
“So what’s the next name?” he asks again.
I sigh and give in to this ridiculous detective charade.
“Bryce Peterson,” I say.
“Peterson?” Asher scoffs and pauses before turning back to me.“I think the world may be better off if we just let the professor get him. Who’s after him?”
“Asher! This is fucking serious. What is wrong with you? People aredying.Wesley’s name is in that journal—is that what you want? For Wes to die?” It hits me hard when I say it. Wesley’s name is in the journal. I put my head in my hands. “Why is this happening to me?” I groan.
Asher continues, “Okay, then I guess we’re about to be seeing a lot more of Bryce Peterson. I’m friends with some of his friends so we’ll use that connection to keep an eye on him and hopefully catch the professor. Which is kind of a sick serial killer name if you think about it. The Professor.”
I only stare at him. “This literally can’t be my life. It just can’t be.”
“And in the meantime, we are going back to my original terms of the deal. You are going to get me that resort by any means necessary.”
My mouth gapes open. “How can you even think about yourself in a time like this?”
“I’m thinking about my future, which is what you should be doing. Dani and Annica said you haven’t gone to class all week. Don’t fall apart on me now, Sawyer. I need Wes to want you. He needs to want you enough to stay here with you and leave Colorado to me.”
I shake my head. “Fine, whatever.” Because what is the alternative? I say no and he rats me out? His help has to be better than no help at all... right?
“I knew you’d see things my way,” Asher says with a smile that makes me grit my teeth. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a date.”
“Who in their right mind would be dumb enough to date you?” I grumble.
“No one as dumb as the people who datedyou.”
He has me there.
Asher leaves me alone in my bedroom, where I let out a long sigh, looking at the suspect board. Was that really Miles’s Jeep in North Winwick last weekend? A twisted part of me hopes it was, because if not, then who else could have done this?
My photo on the board stares back at me.
In both instances I’ve managed to be drunk enough to black out and not remember the night. Is it possible that I would do something like that? No, no, I can’t even think like that. I can’t go down that road. I push that thought deep, deep down as I grab a marker and paper and write “Miles Holland” in big letters, adding it to the board. Then I look over at my goals taped on my mirror.You’re not going to get into trouble.
I cross out that line with the marker.
Chapter 12
Six days after the fire, a news article is posted saying the cause of the fire was a gas leak. It eases my worry just slightly knowing that I must have taken the only copy of the eulogy, and no one will be looking for evidence that points to arson. So now that’s three supposed “accidents,” two copies of my journal, and one seriously freaked-out Sloane. But the news comes just in time for Annica’s twenty-second birthday. We’re throwing her a surprise party at their apartment tonight and Dani is keeping her busy all day while I decorate the place with the boys. Charlie and Sam go out to pick up the cake, Jake is grabbing balloons, and that leaves Asher, Wesley, and me to be here alone cleaning up and taping streamers to the walls.
Wesley plays music while we work so that no one can acknowledge the weird silence between the three of us. Asher gives me looks every time we make eye contact, urging me to talk to Wes. At one point he stands beside me at the kitchen sink, and we speak in whispers while Wesley vacuums the living room in front of us.
“Miles wants me to meet him somewhere,” I say, washing thecups in the sink. He emailed me again the other day after I didn’t respond.
