I nodded numbly. My grief wasn't only for Leah. I hated that I still wanted her approval while simultaneously questioning whether she'd framed my child. I hated that I could no longer trust my closest friends. Would I ever regain those friendships, or were they gone forever?
"Yeah," I managed. "Good idea."
"Rowan! Oh, there you are." Brooke appeared, cheeks flushed, eyes too bright. Her wineglass was empty. Her expression darkened when she spotted me. "They're ready for speeches. They want you to start." Her eyes narrowed. "Everything good in here, Rowan?"
"Thank you for your concern, Brooke." Rowan gave me a sympathetic smile. "We'll talk later."
Rowan floated out of the kitchen. Brooke scowled at me before flouncing after her.
My phone buzzed. I tugged it from my purse. A message from Mia:Z coming to u.
A moment later, the kitchen door opened. Zara slipped in. She spotted me and froze.
"I need to talk to you," I said. "About Leah."
From the main room, Rowan's voice rose and fell, poised and perfect, shaping a story about a girl her daughter's friends had mocked and bullied.
Zara glanced nervously over her shoulder like a rabbit prepared to flee. "I'm not supposed to talk to you."
I gestured toward the adjacent bathroom that connected the kitchen to the pool area. "Please. Just a minute."
Zara hesitated, then sighed. She followed me into the bathroom, and I shut the door behind us.
The pool house bathroom glittered with excess, with marble floors so polished they mirrored us in dark glass, black-and-white tile laid like a chessboard, and gold fixtures that threw fractured rainbows across thewalls.
I got right to it. "I know about the spray paint."
Zara pressed her back to the quartzite counter. She looked at me blankly.
"I found it in your trash yesterday morning."
She gaped at me. "Uh, I literally don't know what you're talking about, Ms. Kincaid."
If I hadn't known better, I'd have said she was genuinely baffled. "I know it was you who broke into my home. You took Leah's painting from Mia's room, slashed it, and painted GUILTY over it."
She shook her head, hard. Her braids swished around her narrow shoulders. "No! That wasn't me. I'd never do that to you or Mia. I was on Leah's side!"
"It was in your trash bin. The same color was used on the slashed painting. You want to tell me that's a coincidence?"
"Someone must have put it there. I didn't use spray paint. It wasn't me. I wouldn't—" Her face cleared, as if something had clicked in her mind. "Wait. What the actual?—"
I leaned forward. "What?"
Her hands clenched into fists. She looked like she wanted to punch someone. "Are you kidding me? She dumped it in my trash to cover herself. So nothing would trace back to her. That backstabbing?—"
"Who, Zara?"
Zara met my gaze. "Thursday before swim practice, I saw red stuff under Peyton's nails. I teased her about it. She told me to mind my own business. Then she left practice early. She didn't say why."
I sucked in a breath. "Peyton."
"Yeah, that witch just framed me. "
"I believe you." I did. I believed every word. Zara was clearly upset.
"I can't believe she'd do that to me." Her eyes narrowed. She chewed on her bottom lip, like she was considering something.
"What is it?"
