“What’s this?”
It’s only then that I notice her bewildered expression and what she’s holding in her hands: a camera. One of those disposable models that was popular in the nineties. The kind that wouldn’t have flagged the electronics detection software on Connor’s tablet. “Where did you find that?”
“Under your bed.”
Under my bed? How could it have gotten there? I brush the thought away; it’s not important now. “Listen, I need to show you something.” I reach into my pocket. “I found this downstairs in—”
“What’s that?”
The hair on the back of my neck prickles. I slowly turn to find Connor standing in the hallway, eyes fixed on the camera. What should I do? If he suspects that I know what he’s done, there’s no telling how he’ll react. The safest thing I can do right now is act like nothing’s wrong; that’s always worked for me before.
“It was under the bed,” Greer says.
“Is it yours?” Connor asks me.
I shake my head.
He brushes past me, and when his elbow grazes my ribs, I can’t help jerking to the side. He narrows his gaze but doesn’t mention it. Maybe he thinks my response is because of what happened downstairs, him ripping that envelope away. God, please let him think that’s all. “This must’ve belonged to Zach,” he says.
He’s standing next to Greer now—so close I want to scream, but instead, I dig my fingernails into my palm, focusing on the bright sting.Stay calm, Nic. Stay calm.
“He probably wanted to include photos in his book. See?” She points to the fine print on the front of the camera. “It’s black-and-white film.”
“Wait.” He reaches for the camera, lifts it to his face. “Is that blood?”
Blood?He shows Greer, then flips the camera around so I can see the spray across the yellow wrapper. It’s the same color as the mysterious stain on my sketchbook. Could that be blood, too? What the hell happened in here?
“We need to find out what’s on that film,” Greer says.
“That’s not a good idea.” Connor sets the camera on the desk. “If the police are called in, won’t they consider that evidence tampering? You don’t want to be involved in a possible felony, especially right before your father’s hearing.”
Whatever’s on that film probably implicates Connor, which explains why he doesn’t want it developed. If Greer doesn’t back off, he’ll start feeling trapped, and trapped men are dangerous men.
I jump in. “He’s right. Besides, we don’t have any way of processing the film. We’d need a developing tank, the right chemicals, a changing bag. Without the correct equipment, we’ll just end up ruining it.”
“We have all that,” she says. “In the storage room, from the nature photography workshop.”
He hesitates, then says, “Yes, but it’s been down there awhile.”
“We bought it last year. It’s fine, I’m sure.”
Connor says nothing. We need to get out of here—now.
“Great,” I say. “Connor, if you know where everything is, can you bring it up here?”
He frowns. “It’s buried under a lot of junk. It would take a while.”
“We’re not going anywhere.”
He turns to Greer, who nods in agreement. Reluctantly, he leaves the room. “You don’t remember—” Greer starts to say, but I silence her with a finger to my lips. Her brow furrows in confusion, but she stops talking. I wait until Connor’s footsteps have faded before rushing over to the desk and grabbing the camera. “We need to leave.”
“Leave? What do you mean?”
“Connor’s the murderer.”
“Wait, what? Why would you think that? Did he say something to you?”
“He asked me to come to his room,” I lie, not wanting to admit I broke in. “He had some questions for me, but while I was in there, I found this.” I exhume the necklace from my pocket, holding it up so she can see the gemstone. “Does this look familiar?”
