The sobbing that follows is low, guttural. Like an animal.
Chloe feels nothing but mild impatience, a calculation of risk. How long will Mia stay down there? Will she touch the body, contaminate the scene with her fingerprints, her DNA? Good. Better, actually.
"Mia, get back up here!"
"Call 911!" Mia cries.
"Get up here now!"
Mia moves as if underwater, shock rendering her compliant. She climbs back up the bluff, slipping twice, her hands covered in dirt and something darker that gleams wetly in the moonlight.
"I didn't—I didn't mean to," Mia stammers when she reaches the top. Her eyes are unfocused. "I thought she was fine, she just took a step back, what—what happened?"
"You pushed her, stupid," Chloe snaps, her patience thinning. "Really hard."
"No—I?—"
Chloe grips Mia's shoulders, feeling the tremors running through the other girl's body. "Look at me. You were mad. You pushed her. She fell. Now she's dead." She leans closer, her breath warm against Mia's tear-streaked face. "If you call 911, what do you think happens next? The cops will throw you in jail and toss away the key. You did this."
Mia crumples. A wounded sound escapes her throat.
"I'm going to help you." Chloe softens her voice and molds her features into an expression of sympathetic concern. "We stick together, tell the same story. She came out here alone and fell. She was always clumsy, right? Literally tripping over her own feet." She gives Mia a little shake. "But you have to do exactly what I say. I'llsave you, but you can't be stupid. You and me, we're a team now. Do you understand?"
"I don't—I can't—what if she's only hurt—what if?—"
Chloe shakes her harder. Anger flashes behind her carefully constructed mask. Hysteria won't serve either of them. Mia has always been too sensitive, too emotional, too weak to handle the hard stuff. "Listen to me. She's gone. There's nothing you can do. Think about yourself."
"We can't just leave her?—"
"Shut up!" Chloe hisses. "You can't think about her. She's gone. She's dead! You can't bring her back. You call 911 and admit what you did? You're going to prison. Forever. You'll destroy your mom. Is that what you want?"
"No, but?—"
"I'm the only one who can save you. Are you with me or not?"
Slowly, dully, Mia nods.
"Good. Here's what you're going to do. Go back to the basement, change your dress in the bathroom, and get into your sleeping bag. Go to sleep. Do not get up for anything. Wipe your puffy face and stop blubbering. When you wake up tomorrow morning, you have no idea what happened. That's it. Now go."
Chloe picks up the camera from the grass, shoves it into Mia's limp hands, and pushes her toward the house. She watches as the other girl stumbles across the manicured lawn, moving sluggishly, like a sleepwalker.
Once Mia disappears inside, Chloe turns back to the bluff's edge. She activates her phone's flashlight and directs the beam downward.
The body moves. A small, pained groan floats up from the darkness.
Chloe's breath catches in her throat—not from horror, but from the sudden recalibration required: a live witness can speak, a corpse cannot.
Her heartrate accelerates. This complicates everything. Leah can't wake up. She can't climb back to the world of the living and tell everyone what she knows, especially not now.
Chloe recalls the moment of recognition in Leah's eyes just before the push, the dawning awareness, the determination that had flared across her face like lightning. Leah was turning on Chloe. She was going to pick Mia, no matter the consequences.
Then there would be nothing to stop her from ruining Chloe's life utterly. She could testify to everything Chloe has done, including the push.
Chloe needs to do something. To silence her permanently.
Chloe studies the steep incline, glances down at her gown, and considers her options with methodical precision. Mia barely navigated the treacherous descent without falling. No way is Chloe attempting it, especially not in her current outfit.
Besides, this will get messy. She'll need to touch the body, the blood. No. It'll ruin her brand-new Valentino gown. There must be another way.
