I freeze. “Why?”
“Because you’re an outsider. That means fresh eyes. Sometimes that helps. I’ve been in touch with the families—the Whites and the Singhs in particular. They’re desperate for answers, andI want to be the one to provide them, but my investigation has stalled a little. I’ve got a theory—well, a few, really—and I think I’m getting close to figuring out where those bodies are. But, like I said, fresh eyes never hurt.”
My stomach tightens. “Have you really been talking to the victims’ families about this?”
He shrugs as if it’s no big deal. “Yeah, of course. They deserve to know what’s going on. I’m not here to sugarcoat things or hold anyone’s hand. I’m here to find the truth. We need to bring closure to this town. And hey, if we get that reward money, all the better, right?”
“You don’t think that’s a little insensitive?”
“Look, I get it, okay? It’s sad. But the truth is, someone’s gotta do the dirty work. The cops have had more than a decade to find these bones, and they’ve come up with nothing. It’s time for someone else to step up and find real answers.”
Nausea crawls up my chest. “I don’t think this is the way to do it. You’re talking about these victims like they owe you something, but they don’t. This isn’t a game.”
He scowls. “I’m not playing a game. I’m trying to find justice. If you’re too squeamish for that, then fine. But just so you know, I would’ve shared some of the reward with you.”
Someof it. I swallow a bitter laugh. Greedy jerk. I know Jasmine is trying to do the same thing and look for those bodies, but for some reason it feels a lot slimier when this guy does it.
I take a step back, shaking my head. “Thanks for the offer, but I moved here like two weeks ago, and I don’t want any part of this.”
Before he can respond, I walk away, the tension thick in the air behind me. I don’t stop until I’m halfway down the hall, my heart pounding.
On my way to English, which also serves as homeroom for the first twenty minutes of class, I spot Everett at the bank of lockers I have to pass to get to my classroom. He’s talking with a crowd of his friends. I’ve come to expect that—I never see him alone in school. I might as well call them his entourage.
At my approach, I hear him say, “I’ll catch y’all later.” Then he falls into step with me. “Hey.”
The second he says that word, I feel it. Everyone in the busy hall turns to see what he’s up to. They’re now looking atme, which is the last thing I want.
“Hey,” I mutter, picking up the pace. “What’s up, Everest?”
He doesn’t seem to notice my eagerness to get away. He keeps up with me as I quickly turn the corner. “I love that you’ve given me a nickname. It’s cute.”
Shit. I’d meant for it to annoy him. Not for it to be my little pet name for him.
Luckily this hallway is a lot quieter. Only a few people are staring at us now. When I reach my classroom, he’s still with me, so I point at the doorway. “This is my stop.”
“Right,” he says, peering inside.
When he gives someone a nod of greeting, I follow his gaze toward the back of the classroom, my eyes hitching on a guy who’s just turning to face the window. He’s in a black T-shirt, sitting up on the desk, combat boots on the chair. It’s Chase, Everett’s bad-boy friend. I’m sure it’s him, even though I’ve only seen him acouple times. The back of him is unmistakable, with that golden hair and those toned biceps.
Since when is he in my English class? Wouldn’t I have noticed him before?
“So?”
I break my gaze and find Everett staring at me. He’s asked me a question. “I’m sorry, what?”
“I was asking if you were busy this weekend.”
He’s persistent. You’ve got to give him that.
“What are you offering this time? A stroll by the lake? Ice cream parlor?” It feels like everyone around us is hanging on this conversation. This guy is an attention magnet.
“Nah, you don’t get dessert until you agree to a whole dinner.” He grins at me.
I give a noncommittal shrug. “Yeah, maybe.”
Then I turn, maybe too abruptly, and go into the classroom just as the bell rings. Chase slides into his chair, but he’s still staring out the window.
I force my gaze not to linger, but it’s hard to ignore him. He has that effortless kind of hotness—the kind where he doesn’t need to try, and everyone knows it. He leans back in his chair, his long legs stretched out, a smirk playing at his lips like he’s in on a joke the rest of us don’t get.
