“Because it looks bad if he doesn’t. I know guys like this; they’re going to be thinking two steps ahead of everybody. Or at least they think they are. He’ll want to clear his name.”
“Seems like the most logical next step. At the very least, he doesn’t have the council protecting him,” I said, trying not to sound too eager to return to the Phi Kat house.
We found Grant rounding the steps to the Phi Kat house.
“Hey, there. Grant, right?” Max flashed that easy country smile and leaned on the staircase banister like he didn’t have a care in the world. He didn’t mention the investigation, of course, didn’t bring up the meme. “Quite the commotion, huh? What do you make of all this?”
Grant took a hard look at both of us, then crossed his arms.
“Of my ex getting murdered, you mean,” he said, and we were both stunned by the bluntness of his statement. But this wasn’t a misstep. No, he looked at us both dead in the eye as he said it, looking slowly between the two of us to measure our reactions.
Grant wasn’t what I expected. Where I thought I’d find sharpness, finely tailored clothes, and a curling lip, there was … not quite softness, but something else. A graphic T-shirt with an outline of Han Solo, hair that was just a smidge too long, eyes that were small and dark and penetrating. He was too short to be imposing and had an average build. On his face, he wore a carefully managed easiness that continued down his shoulders. Trying a little too hard, I think, to say,Look all you want. I have nothing to hide.
“I grieved the Maya that I knew and loved a long time ago,” he said by way of explanation. “She hasn’t been that person in years.”
“So, no lingering feelings? No resentment, even after she left you?” Max asked.And started dating a womanlingered in the air. For a second, there was a tightness in his neck that passed just as quickly. It was so fast I could have imagined it. Max flashed him a quick, mollifying smile.
Grant raised an eyebrow, as if to say that would be nuts. “It’s been two years. No, I’m not still pining for Maya.”
I was tempted to believe him. After all, he seemed so calm, measured. Controlled.
But, all at once, the gruesome meme flashed against my eyelids, and the sick caption, and the reminder that here was the smart guy. He wasn’t handsome or tall or particularly charming, but he was smart. And this whole buddy-buddy bit, lean in close and smile pretty, felt like part of the act. A way to get you to trust him.
“To tell you the truth, Maya rubbed a lot of people the wrong way. She always had to be the center of attention. Always had to one-up everyone. She always had to be having the most fun, the best time, have the best of everything. I know, don’t speak ill of the dead and all that. I just thought it’d be better if you knew the real her.”
And there it was. In just a few statements, he’d pivoted.She’d rubbed a lot of people the wrong way … Anyone could be responsible; anyone could have held a grudge. But not me, look how easy I can talk about it all, look how over her I am.My eyes narrowed.
“I always knew she was going to go too far one day.”
The bluntness felt at first like he was simply being candid with us, that he was entirely open and only wanting to help. But no one’s that open. Not with people they’d just met. And if Object Theory had taught me anything, it was that people were guarded.
I studied him, steadied my breathing, and reached out to his objects. I listened out for their hum.* Unlike Grant, they were not calm, cool, or measured. Their gentle buzzing was erratic—first quietly humming, then a series of loud pops like a car backfiring.
Here was a guy pretending. The kind of guy who spent all his time bragging about how smart he was, but when you asked him to solve a problem that deviated even slightly from the standard set in the textbook he’d seen a thousand times, he was all mumbled excuses. The guy on Reddit telling everyone he could have done it. The one judging girls from behind a computer screen, turning them into soulless creatures with “an average face and small tits, 4/10.”
But I was projecting. This was unfair. I’d known Grant Hafer for all of six minutes.
“Tell us about the pill you slipped Joselyn Hart,” said Max.
Grant’s jaw dropped, and I had to hide my snort as a coughing fit. Grant wasn’t the only one who was clever, and Max’s bullshit meter was one of the best I’d ever seen. Suddenly, I felt inexplicably proud of him. Proud of us. Who’s young and incompetent now, Ellendale?
“Yeah, she told us about that chivalrous bit of chemistry. Tell me, is it often you find people have to be unconscious before they can stomach to be around you?”
Finally, a break in the calm façade. Grant blinked, and it was obvious Max had gotten to him. He took a steadying breath, trying to regain control of the situation. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Max leaned in. Grant tried to keep his easy posture, but I could see the tension in his shoulders, a tendon bulging in his neck.
“I didn’t slip anyone anything. Joselyn’s trying to shift the blame off herself. Have you even asked why they aren’t roommates anymore? Or who was responsible for the threatening notes Dani kept finding on all her shit last year? All Joselyn, man. She’s so jealous of Dani she can’t even handle it.”
“We confirmed with the girls on her hall that Joselyn was ill for several days after attending a party you also attended.”
“Yeah, because she probably drank enough to sedate a bison. I was with my friends all night. I didn’t even talk to her.”
Max continued forward, using the crack in Grant’s armor as a wedge. “We believe Dani may have been hexed, and as someone with a passion for illegal medications, we thought you might be able to point us in the right direction. Perhaps Joselyn wasn’t the only one you slipped a pill to.”
“A hexed pill? What are you even talking about?”
“I suppose we could have a talk with your dealer instead …”
