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I looked back at the guys. Camden was squinting extra hard.
“Think that’s—”
“I don’t know,” Roderick cut him off.
I was examining the guys’ reactions now, much more than the footage. I got the distinct impression there was something more to their little exchange, but I didn’t push.
“The car looks green to me,” I said finally. “Doesn’t it?”
Camden and Bryce exchanged glances. Roderick cleared his throat.
“What makes you say that?”
“Because I know what green looks like?” I quipped. “They taught me in preschool. The color green and I go way back. Purple, too. Also—”
Roderick’s resulting frown stopped me from going through the whole rainbow. I turned back to the screen again.
“I know it’s far away,” I said, “and I know it’s dark. But if you twisted my arm, and made me pick a color?” I shrugged. “That car’s probably green.”
Camden picked up the printouts and left the room with them. Bryce likewise headed for the exit.
“I’m well past due for a shower,” he said, looking me over. He added a sly wink. “In case you wanted to save water, or—”
“In a little bit,” I told him.
I waited until they were gone before turning back to Roderick. He was still looking down at the screen.
“You know who this is, don’t you?”
My lover scratched at his beard. He shook his head.
“Okay, let me rephrase that,” I amended. “ You know who this might be, don’t you?”
“It’s too dark to tell anything for sure,” Roderick maintained. “And that car isn’t nearly close enough to—”
“Roderick,” I blurted. “This is my house. I live here. If some asshole’s got a vendetta against one or more of you, I need to know. Especially if they don’t mind a little arson.”
He reached for the mouse and closed the viewing software. The screen flashed back to my wallpaper: a group pic of the four of us, making funny faces into the camera and sticking our tongues out.
“I’ll back you up,” I continued. “Vendettas are something I understand. Vendettas are easy to work on.”
Roderick only shook his head. “You’ve got quite an imagination.”
“Do I?”
“In this case, yes. You do.”
The room got quiet for a moment, as I was caught between emotions. I was worried. Frustrated. A little angry. And I definitely, most wholeheartedly felt out of the loop.
“Karissa, listen—”
“Why do you blame yourself for what happened to Madison?”
I blurted the question automatically, without even thinking. It had been on the tip of my tongue for two weeks. Something I’d desperately wanted to know, but couldn’t bring myself to ask Bryce, or Camden.
No. I had to hear it directly from Roderick himself.
“What are you talking about?”
