“No suspects,” he says softly. “All I know is they’re looking for someone, but they’re notlookingfor them.”
I understand what he’s saying. Obviously, Jackson didn’t kill himself, but the weapon wasn’t there, cameras didn’t catch the murder, and it sounds like they haven’t yet found the person in the truck whose engine we all heard rev from the front of the arena.
The one I thought was Jackson, until I found him, dead on the ground.
And his truck was still there. I had to point it out to the officers that night.
“How well do you know Sylvan?” I have to ask. It doesn’t make logical sense, the timeline doesn’t add up, and I guess he could’ve thrown the knife but if he had, it would be found by now, and they’d have taken our prints, wouldn’t they? It’s almost like they didn’t find any at the scene, so why bother with ours? But that means someone knew what they were doing.
Faust doesn’t look at me. “Haven’t you Googled him?” His tone is despondent.
“No. I was worried, if I was a suspect… it might look weird.” Saying it out loud makes me feel stupid because it’s too paranoid to be rational. I ran into two hockey players who, by all accounts, are loved and adored at Drayton. It’s only natural I’d look them up, and maybe my mistake isnotlooking them up, actually.
But Faust only glances at me briefly before he goes back to giving me that hot as hell side profile angle of his face.
“We’re not friends. We’re teammates.”
“In other words, you don’t know him at all.”
Faust’s hand squeezes the shifter, but otherwise, he ignores me. “He’s from Buffalo. He’s twenty, so not a young freshman. Good chance of getting drafted. He could’ve, from Juniors. He came here instead, probably to increase the chances of gettingan offer from whatever team he wants to go to. Or maybe he was running from something.”
“And you don’t know what?”
“No.” He turns to me then, those dark eyes piercing mine. “Do you know he’s colorblind?” He glances at the sweater in my hands.
That surprises me, and I shake my head. “He told you?” If they aren’t friends and they only talk about the game, I’m intrigued on how and why Sylvan told him. And yeah, maybe I’m also wondering if he’s full of shit.
Faust breathes a small laugh. “No. He was with me when I found the sweater. Never said anything about it.”
“So? It was dark. Maybe he just didn’t notice it.”Or maybe he was trying to protect me?
“Yeah, maybe. I asked Coach about him. He mentioned it.” Faust looks away again. “On account of wanting to understand my teammates better.”
A half-lie, but not a full one. Does that mean Faust is mostly honest? I catalog the information away for later.
Then I think of the blood from Will’s nose on my countertop. I don’t know anything about being colorblind other than there are different types, so it’s not like everything is always black and white. But even if it was, he’d have noticed the blood, wouldn’t he?
Of course he would. Something that wasn’t there before would still be there, no matter the shade. Besides, he had to have heard how hard Will’s nose cracked, thatwrongsound, same as I did.
“Whose nose did he break? In your condo?” Faust jerks his chin upward, toward Darkmouth.
For some reason, I want to lie. Because Faust probably doesn’t know why Jackson was mad and the connection the reason has to his question. I told the police, of course, gave themWill’s name myself, but since we were questioned separately, I doubt they disclosed it to either of the boys, and they clearly didn’t mention it to Will himself.
But Sylvan knew exactly who he was.
Fuck. How?
“Jackson’s best friend.” I resign myself to answering, even knowing the suspicion it’ll bring. The way it’ll make it seem like the lie Sylvan told Faust about sleeping with me might be true. I mean, Jackson already told them the night he died that I sucked his “best friend’s” dick.
It’s just the truth is so much worse.
Slut D.
It’s really not that far off, is it?
Faust turns to face me. His hand is squeezing the shifter again, making the veins pop up under his skin. They’re green. Gorgeous. But he looks angry.
“Why were both of them at your place?”
