“Ugh. Probably.” She squeezed my shoulders once more before releasing me, glancing around. “Should I text the others to tell them we’re in here, or did you already do that?”
“They're all running late,” I said, pulling out my phone and making a show of checking it. “Dylan texted that he got held up at the library. He forgot it closed early tonight and had to wait for security to let him out. Jeremiah’s coming from his cousin's welcome-home dinner in Harborview, and he's going the long way around because they’ve closed a bunch of roads formaintenance work. And Ginny...” I shook my head. “Her aunt and cousins are back in town, and apparently her mom insisted she stay for dessert. She said she'll be here by eleven-thirty at the latest.”
“Oh, okay.”
“But it's fine,” I said quickly. “I can start showing you what I found. Then when the others get here, we'll all go through it together.”
“Yeah, that works.” Cherry smiled, and in the darkness, it looked almost predatory. “So where is it? This file you found?”
I reached into my jacket pocket and pulled out the manila folder Julian had given me earlier. Inside were pages of printed coordinates and timestamps; real tracking data that Roman had pulled from the night Cal died.
“Here,” I said, holding it out.
Cherry took it, her fingers brushing mine as she did. Then she opened the folder and angled her phone light to read.
“You’re right. It definitely looks like tracking data from a cell phone,” she said, nodding slowly.
“It is. But I realized I was wrong before. The data isn’t from Roman’s phone after all,” I replied, raising a brow. “It comes from someone else entirely.”
Her eyes widened. “Who?”
One of the massive stage spotlights suddenly blazed to life with an audibleclunk, bathing Cherry in blinding white light. She was caught in its beam like an insect pinned under glass, the harsh illumination washing out her features and casting stark shadows across the stage floor.
“What the fuck?” she muttered, squinting and lifting her arm to shield herself from the sudden bright glare. “Who’s in the lighting booth?”
“I don’t think anyone is,” I said. “I saw a sign outside saying the facilities department is testing the electrical systems in allthe southside campus buildings tonight. So it's probably some sort of glitch caused by that.”
The light began to dim to a more bearable level, and Cherry lowered her arm. “Huh. That’s so weird.”
“Yeah, it is,” I said lightly. I cocked my head. “Maybe it’s a theater ghost. That’s a thing, right?”
She snorted with amusement. “Yeah, supposedly. And I guess wedoneed some light in here. Thanks, ghost!”
I smiled. “Wanna take another look at the data now that you can see it better?”
“Uh-huh.” Cherry looked down at the first page again, brows furrowing. “Ugh, we definitely need Jeremiah in here.”
“Turn to the last page,” I said. “It has the person’s cell number. You might recognize it.”
Cherry flicked to the third page. Her eyes narrowed slightly as she scanned the number I’d printed in huge font in the middle. “Um… this ismynumber.”
“That’s right.”
“I don’t get it.” Her gaze snapped back to meet mine. “Is this some sort of joke?”
“Nope,” I said in a clipped tone. “It’syou, Cherry. That tracking data—along with the burner phone messages and their timestamps on page four—proves that you killed Calista.”
She blinked rapidly, then let out a nervous laugh. “Thisisa joke. It’s one of Dylan’s prank videos, right?”
“You think I’d joke about finding my sister’s killer?” I asked flatly.
“Well, no, but… how could you possibly think I’d do anything to Cal? She was my best friend,” Cherry said. Her voice had gone husky, and her eyes were already shimmering with tears. “That’s such a horrible thing to say.”
I wasn’t moved at all. I knew how she could make herself cry on cue, just like all good actresses could. She’d bragged about it enough times.
“How do you explain your location compared with the messages you were sending to the burner phone, then?” I asked, lifting a brow. “Or the fact that the data shows you never went anywhere near Port Engel that night, even though you claimed you did?”
“Oh my god, Vee, you really don’t see what’s happening here, do you?” she said, shaking her head. “They’ve beenbrainwashingyou at that estate. The Dionysus guys. They must’ve faked this data to convince you to turn against your own friends. That’s how abusers work, you know. They isolate you in really insidious ways. You need to get out of that place.”
