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Its photos of Keller tied to the chair, practically drowning in his own blood. It’s a gruesome scene. His eyes are wide and frantic. There’s a video too, of Keller begging for mercy and gurgling as more blood spills from his mouth. Absolutely pathetic. You’d think he would be able to find courage in the face of death given how often he comes close to it.
A smile twists my lips. “Send that to me,” I say. Ezra nods. “Won’t he talk?”
“I drugged him. He’ll barely remember.” Ezra grins. “A few of the nurses in the clinic owe me favors. They won’t talk if anyone comes poking. You’re the prime suspect and you weren’t even here.”
That last sentence reminds me of what a close call this was.
I run my hands through my hair. “I keep underestimating him,” I mutter, shame heating my skin at those words. I should have been better prepared for this. “I had no idea he would actually try to…” I can’t even finish the sentence.
“He wanted to make it look like she killed herself.” Ezra’s expression grows dark, mirroring mine. “Does she struggle with that sort of thing?”
I stare at him for a few heartbeats. Alize’s mental health isn’t something I want to discuss—he might be studying to be a doctor, but he isn’t a fucking therapist.
“Why?”
“Keller seemed to think she is,” he says. “Enough to warrant him trying to fake her suicide.”
A shudder runs through me. I fold my arms, my eyes traveling from the bloodstained plastic on the floor, to the early-morning sun streaming through the balcony door.
“How the fuck would he know that?”
Just then, the front door opens. Vance steps in, carrying a thick wad of cables and hooks with him. He isn’t dressed for the weather, and it shows in the redness of his cheeks and the slight tremor of his lips. His hair sticks to his temples.
We acknowledge each other with a brief nod, and the three of us converge in a corner of the room. Vance hands the cables to me. I take cold metallic ropes from him, untangling them. Ezra examines the hooks.
“This is what he used,” Vance says. “It went all the way from up from the ground to the window and was tethered to a nearby tree.”
It’s a thick, sturdy cable. The kind used for rock climbing or something of the sort, if I had to guess. Ezra hands one of the hooks to me, pointing to something emblazoned on one of them. It’s a dull engraving—TSC.
Trident Shipping Company.
These are Keller’s, alright. The motherfucker probably lifted some stevedoring equipment specifically for this little fucked up plan of his. And it almost worked.
“Keller seems to know a lot,” Ezra pipes up. “Things he shouldn’t know.”
Vance gives him a wary look. “Like?”
“He knew Alexander would be away,” Ezra says. “He always seems to know when you’ll be away. Were you in Italy?”
I freeze. I didn’t tellanyonethat.
“Come to think of it, you’re right,” Vance’s eyes widen. “Didn’t he attack Alize on that day you were supposed to be off campus, too?”
I nod.
“It’s almost like he has you bugged,” Ezra says with a chuckle.
We all laugh.
But then I stop, because…it sort of makes sense.
It would explain so much. How else would he know when I’m supposed to be away?
I only ever share that information with Vance and Ezra, and I never tell them exactly where I’m going unless they’re coming with me. Keller and I don’t move in the same circles. We don’t have the same interests, we don’t share classes.
We only have the Kingmaker Council in common, and three-fifths of the council stands right here with me. It’s got to be something, orsomeoneelse.
“Are you seriously considering it?” Vance asks.
