"I, uh, left some stuff out before."
"Tellme."
"I'm sorry, I should've said something earlier. I don't even know why I was protecting her. Peyton sure doesn't deserve it."
I slid my purse off my shoulder and set it on the counter. The mirrors multiplied us, two figures caught in a glittering box.
"You told me before that you heard sounds at 3:30 a.m." I didn't mention that the noises Zara heard was from Leah, still alive, struggling to climb the bluff. She would find out soon enough when the information was released to the media.
"I lied about not seeing who it was. I was too scared to say anything before. I thought if I just said I heard someone, that would be enough. But it's not. Mia could literally get arrested. I… I can't just stand by and do nothing. Not again."
I went very still. My mind spun. Someone else had actually been on the bluff?
Zara's shoulders tensed. She grasped the edge of the counter to steady herself. "If they find out I told you… you know what they do. LakeshoreTea. The girl last year, the one who got brain damage. I can't end up like her. I can't live like that, with a target on my back. What Leah went through? I can't do that."
"You're doing the right thing. I promise, you are. We'll figure out how to handle it."
She nodded. Her breath hitched. "I didn't go back up to Chloe's house. I just stayed on the beach. I was freaking out about why Leah missed our meeting. Like, imagining all kinds of terrible things. I kept thinking Peyton found out, or Alexis, and what they'd do to me. So, I decided to just stay and watch the sunrise. There's that big piece of driftwood by the seawall to sit on."
"What time was this?"
"Just before dawn. So, like, 5:15 a.m.?"
"Okay. What happened?"
"I heard this scratching sound. I got scared and hid behind that big oak at the base of the bluff. Someone came down the stairs holding a plastic bag with something in it. She buried it just past the seawall, covered it with leaves and twigs, then went back up."
The taste of adrenaline went metallic on my tongue. "What was in the bag?"
"It was small. Dark. Weirdly shaped. It had this brightly colored strap. Hard to see from where I was hiding, but I'm pretty sure it was a camera."
My breath stilled in my chest. The mirrors caught us from every angle—her eyes huge and hollow, my posture angled toward her, breathless with hope. "Mia's camera."
She nodded. "I waited until I couldn't hear her footsteps anymore. I should've dug the camera up, I know that now, but I didn't. I went back up. Then I saw something shiny in the grass where we took pictures the night before, so I walked over. It was getting lighter out. It was Leah's phone. I looked down and…" Her face crumpled. "That's when I saw her. Leah, lying there."
I handed her a paper towel. Our fingers brushed. Hers were ice cold. She wiped at her eyes, then tore the towel into neat strips.
"Zara," I said. "Who was on the beach?"
"I didn't know at first. When she came up the stairs, she passed right by me. I couldn't see her face, but…"
I could barely breathe. "Who?"
Zara's eyes shone with tears under the lights. The moment stretched, taut as a wire, our reflections echoing on all sides.
"I recognized the purple Stanley."
The air left my lungs.
"Peyton," she said. "It was Peyton."
Chapter Thirty-Five
The distant murmur of eulogy speeches filtered through the bathroom door. I stared at Zara's reflections in the sparkling mirrors, searching carefully for any sign of deception. I saw none. "Are you certain it was Peyton?"
Her eyes met mine in the mirror. "It was definitely her. The purple Stanley with all the stickers from her swim meets. She literally never goes anywhere without that thing. It was definitely her."
My vision tunneled. Peyton. Whitney's perfect, polished daughter, the one who stood in my living room with that spare key, who watched the police photograph Leah's painting on Thursday night. The same painting she'd slashed and defaced. Who probably planted the bloody rock in Mia's room, too.
