Three dots appear immediately.
Emily:Okay. But not the library. Too many people. The old church on Fifth. The one that’s closed. Give me an hour.
I show Luke. He nods, jaw tight. “Gives us time to pay someone a visit first.”
“Who?”
“Caleb,” he says, and his voice has a dangerous edge to it. Caleb and Luke have gotten into a few fights on the ice, but that’s not abnormal. But right now, Luke looks like he might pound Caleb into the ground, and I feel like I’m missing something.
“His family owns the boathouse. That footage didn’t walk itself to the cops. He gave it to them. And he cut it.”
Oh my God. Right. I was so focused on talking to Emily.
“Maybe he didn’t know?—”
“He had to.” Luke pulls me toward the parking lot, his hand wrapped around my wrist; he’s afraid I’ll disappear or someonemight snatch me up. “That camera is motion-activated. It caught Grant at four a.m. but not the party? Not us going in earlier? That’s bullshit. Caleb messed with the footage before he handed it over.” Luke isn’t wrong.
We find Caleb behind the athletic building, leaning against his truck, smoking a vape like he doesn’t have a care in the world. He sees us coming and straightens up, sliding it into his back pocket.
“Locke.” Caleb’s voice cracks slightly. He holds up his hands. “Look, before you do whatever you’re thinking of doing?—”
“You gave them the footage.” Luke steps in close, crowding Caleb against his truck. “You edited it. Cut out the party, cut out us going in earlier, just left Grant at four a.m., looking guilty as hell.”
“I didn’t edit anything!” Caleb shoves back, but I don’t move. We’re not on the fucking ice right now. I’ll lay his ass out. “Jesus, man, you think I’m some kind of movie editor? I don’t know how to do that shit. My dad asked me to check the cameras after the cops came around asking everyone on the lakefront for footage from that night.”
He pulls out his phone, swiping through screens. “Look. Here’s the email I sent them. Raw files. All of them. That’s all I found. I don’t know what to tell you. Grant was going in at four a.m. The camera’s ancient. It only records when it senses motion, and it’s pointed at the door, not the whole property.”
Luke doesn’t back down. “You didn’t see us earlier? The party?”
“No! The camera probably didn’t trigger. I don’t know, bro.” Caleb drags his hand through his hair. “I didn’t even think it was a big deal until I went down there to check things out. I figured if I didn’t see anything, there was no point even sending it to you or the police, but I saw…”
He stops, swallowing.
“Saw what?” I ask. Stop keeping me in suspense here!
“Blood.” Caleb’s voice drops. “Inside. On the floor. Not a lot, but enough. I thought someone got hurt at the party, maybe a fight or something. I don’t know, but with Murphy missing and then the rumors about a body in the lake, I had to, man. Come on.”
Luke stares at him, the anger draining slowly, replaced by something worse. Realization.
“Grant went back,” Luke says quietly. “He went back to the scene of the crime at four a.m., and you caught him.”
“I guess so.” Caleb shrugs, actually appearing apologetic for once. No jokes. Shit is now real for everyone. “I’m sorry, man. I didn’t know it would get him arrested. I thought... I don’t know what I thought.”
Luke steps back, dragging his hand down his face. “Fuck.” I second that fuck, third it too. Caleb doesn’t know shit, and now I really want to know what Grant was up to. One thing is for sure: I’m not talking about any more details in front of Caleb.
“We need to get going,” I say, touching Luke’s arm. He looks down at me, understanding my silent message. Georgia has been eerily quiet. Normally she’d whisper a few comments under her breath for my ears only, but nothing. I’m sure she’s reeling with all of this information coming out about Grant.
Luke nods, still processing. He points at Caleb. “If you’re fucking lying?—”
“I’m not!” Caleb’s voice cracks. “I swear to God, Locke. I just pulled up the footage that was there. That’s it.”
We leave him there, heading in the direction of Luke’s car.
I twist in my seat, checking on Georgia. She’s staring out the window, her face pale and unreadable. She hasn’t said a word since we left Caleb.
“You okay?” I ask her.
“I think it might be my fault,” she finally says, her eyes meeting mine. That’s when I see they’re filled with tears.
