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“Same,” Dax throws in.
Actually, I’m not sure the twins ever have, although they’ve participated in the lies the other two told me. So they’re guilty by association.
“Good.” I arch an eyebrow at the copper-haired boys before flipping open the folder in my hand and turning back to River. “Anyway, what I was going to tell you before is that I think I found something. This looks like a breakdown of what was found at the scene. Can you translate it? It’s all jargon to me.”
His demeanor instantly changes, and he squints thoughtfully as he takes the sheaf of papers from me, scanning them quickly.
“Yeah, that’s what it is. It looks like there weren’t any traffic or security cameras near the site of the hit-and-run—it’s too far out of town, too remote. So they don’t have footage of the actual event, or enough footage of the surrounding areas to narrow down what vehicles were nearby at the time.”
“Shit,” I murmur when he pauses and glances up. “That’s probably not a coincidence. Whoever the guy in the mask was, he must’ve known no cameras would pick him up. Same with the attack at the warehouse. I doubt there are many se
curity cameras on that street either.”
He nods, glancing back down at the document. “That’s part of why the Lepianes want to investigate further. That and the tire marks. They don’t swerve at all, just stop right near where Iris’s body was found. The cops aren’t counting it as valid evidence, but it does suggest the driver didn’t even try to avoid hitting Iris—maybe even that he was trying to hit her.”
“Which is exactly true,” I murmur, a sick feeling churning in my gut.
“Yeah.” Lincoln’s voice is hard, and I know all of us are reliving that night in our minds. Then he shakes his head. “We should see what else we can find and get out of here.”
The five of us dig through the rest of the files, combing through the autopsy report and several more interviews, but we don’t come up with much else. The cops really don’t have much to go on—even if it had been a drunk driver who’d hit Iris, the odds of them catching the person would be low. But River’s dad is doing more investigating, and it’s drawing attention to some odd things about the “accident”. It’s probably only a matter of time before the police start to take it more seriously.
Assuming they aren’t in the pocket of whoever did this.
By the time we slip all the files back into the drawers where we found them, my heart is beating hard in my chest. I’m jittery and paranoid, as if I expect the killer to jump out of a dark shadow any minute and attack us all.
The threat feels like it could come from anywhere, and it’s hard to cope with that.
Dax, Chase, and River all leave in the same car, and it strikes me for the first time that I’ve never seen River drive—another thing that makes perfect sense now that I know about his impaired hearing. He probably can drive, but it’s dangerous to do if he can’t hear horns or sirens or things like that.
It’s almost eleven, and the streets are dark as we drive back to Lincoln’s house. The two of us are both silent, lost in our own thoughts.
I can’t believe how normal this has all started to feel. The secrets, the intrigue, the violent threats lurking on the horizon. Or not normal, exactly—but like a part of my life that will always be there, one I can’t even remember a time without. I lived in Arizona for seventeen years, and I’ve been in Fox Hill for just under three months. But this place has already changed me so completely that the life I had in Bayard seems almost unrecognizable.
When I text Hunter or talk to her on the phone, I slip back into that persona like an old shoe, but the truth is, it doesn’t fit anymore. It’s not who I am anymore.
I miss that Harlow. I miss her so fucking much sometimes. She’d been through a lot of shit, but she was still more innocent—more optimistic—than the person I am now.
When Lincoln pulls into the garage and turns off the car, I glance over at him. “Thank you for bringing me.”
I mean it. Just like I meant what I said in the file room at the law office. I didn’t want to be a part of this, but since there’s no denying I am, I’d rather not be flying blind. The guys’ decision to include me on their little outing tonight says a lot about the trust they’re offering up. And I appreciate it.
“Yeah. Well.” He nods, keeping his gaze on the steering wheel. He’s oddly stiff, and I don’t know quite what he’s thinking, but I let it go. It’s been a weird fucking week.
We head into the house together, and at the top of the stairs, we go our separate ways. After flipping on my bedside lamp, I change into a tank top and shorts and duck into the bathroom to brush my teeth.
Just as I’m turning off the tap, I hear a soft knock on the bedroom door. I glance up at my reflection, my brows pulling together. Maybe Mom’s still up and heard me come home, although I’d expect her to be asleep by now.
I pad over and open it, blinking in surprise when I peer into the hallway. Lincoln stands on the other side, and the stiff, uncomfortable look he wore earlier is still with him. His hands are shoved in his pockets, his shoulders bunched.
“Linc?” I frown at him. “What’s up?”
He swallows, and I watch the muscles of his throat contract. “You said you want the truth between us,” he whispers. “No more lies.”
“Yeah.” My stomach twists into a knot as I say the word.
Oh fuck. What now?
He nods, his jaw clenching. Then his amber gaze settles on mine.
