“Nope,” I say. “Did you see anything weird happen with our friends?”
She shakes her head. “Well, I’d offer you my number, but the service sucks. But don’t be strangers if anything comes up. There’s something wrong with this town.”
My heart hiccups in my chest.
There’s something wrong with this town.
Just like the texter said.
Could Ivy have been the one who reached out to me? We’re alone. Why would she not disclose it? But at the same time, she has a motive to lure us out here. If her friend disappeared, it would make sense thatshe’d be so suspicious of the town.
But who did Vanessa and Paisley, Harlow, and Opal meet who would’ve killed them all? I doubt those college boys were smart enough for that.
“Be careful,” Ivy says.
It’s only when she gets up again that I see it.
Her puffer jacket has buttons on it.
Brown buttons.
I clench my fists, holding back every urge to move, to grab her, to run.
She looks to Beck and smiles. “So, how about the matches?”
Beck shakes her head. “If you remember anything else, please do tell us. I’m sorry about your friend.”
Beck doesn’t realize.
Ivy whips her gaze over to me. Fear courses cold through my veins, but I hold a straight face.
Does she know that I know?
Beck gives her the matches.
She pauses, eyes on me. “Sorry about your friends too.”
She lingers. One second, two, three. As if she has one more thing to say.
Then she disappears back into the trees.
I wait. A beat, two, listening until I can’t hear footsteps or rustling or anything but the spitting of the flames.
“She was in our campsite last night,” I say, my breathing getting harder. “Her buttons match the one we found.”
Why would she tell this whole story about her missing friend, say she was there with Paisley, Harlow, and Opal, and thennotmention shewas stalking our tent last night?
Whatever reason it is, my gut is telling me Ivy’s hiding something from us.
We need to find out what.
Nineteen
As soon as I say the words out loud, Beck disappears into the tent and emerges with the button we found. She settles back onto a log by the fire.
“Are you sure?” Beck asks as she squints at the button.
After our night in the tent together, I don’t feel as weird taking the rest of the log seat to look at the button with her. Our thighs touch. It’s red hot between us, but I don’t feel anything beyond the vibration of both our legs bobbing.
