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Why does it sound so familiar?

“Then there was Sydney,” Sienna continues. “The next morning, you crushed the packets of peanuts from your minibar into powder. At brunch, you waited until the Reds had stepped away from their table before slipping it into Sydney’s drink. You knew she hadn’t been eating, so it was the easiest way to make sure she’d ingest it.”

My mouth falls open.

“No, that’s not…”

“You took her purse, too. The one with her EpiPen inside. You hid it in the basket in the lobby when you went upstairs, making sure nobody would be able to find it in time.”

Another memory crashes into me.

A little plastic packet crinkling beneath my fingers.

The oily scent of peanuts lingering in the air as I crushed them into dust.

My knees begin to tremble, and I reach for Milo, desperate for something solid to hold on to.

He catches my hand immediately.

“Max,” he whispers.

But Sienna isn’t finished tearing my sanity apart.

“And then there was Brooke.”

I squeeze my eyelids shut.

Please.

Please, stop.

“After your altercation with her at breakfast that Monday morning, you waited until she returned to her room, which, as fate would have it, happened to be right next to yours. With the walls of that old B&B being so thin, all you had to do was listen for the sound of running water. Once you heard it, you knew that was your chance.”

A cold sensation spreads through my chest.

“You waited until the water stopped,” Sienna says, her voice thick with emotion. “Then you snuck downstairs, stole the master key from behind Mrs. Trott’s counter, and let yourself into her room.”

I shake my head, but the movement feels strangely disconnected from the rest of my body.

“No. I wouldn’t…”

“You found her in the bathtub, held her head beneath the water until she stopped struggling, then slit her wrists with a razor blade to make it look like she’d taken her own life.”

A sob catches in my throat.

“Stop. Please, Sienna…” I beg just as my legs finally give out.

I collapse onto my knees, the cold grass soaking through my dress as the world seems to tilt around me. I can barely breathe, barely think, as fragments of forgotten memories begin forcing their way into my head.

A key turning in a lock.

Water spilling over the edge of a bathtub.

And Brooke’s dead eyes staring back at me.

“No. No. No. No. No.” I clutch my head, desperately trying to shake the memories away.

Milo drops to his knees beside me, pulling my hands into his as I continue to shake uncontrollably.