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“No. I was only in the bathroom for about a minute, and when I came back, you were still standing in the kitchen in the exact same jersey, getting me a glass of water. I remember it all very clearly.”
He took a deep breath and pinched the bridge of his nose. “No. Here’s what actually happened. I was so excited to be with you that night that I didn’t want to waste a single second. So when you left for the bathroom, I sprinted up the stairs, ripped my burned jersey off, threw it over the railing, and grabbed one of my spare jerseys to put on. It was identical to the other one. After that, I ran back downstairs and got the drink for you. So I did change. But I can see how it looked like I didn’t. That honestly never occurred to me.”
I stared at him, mind whirling and stuttering. “No, I—”
He cut me off. “Tell me something. When we went out onto the deck that night, and we were sitting really close to each other, could you see the burn mark on the sleeve? Or smell it? Or could you feel that it was wet from when we tried to wash it in the sink? Because it was pretty fucking gross. So you would’ve noticed, right?”
I cast my mind back to that part of the evening, remembering our conversation and the way he put his arm around me to keep me warm. As the memories kept filtering in, my stomach dropped, and my hand flew to my mouth. Paxton was right. When he put that arm around me, his sleeve was dry and smelled of nothing but the faint scent of laundry detergent.
“Oh my god,” I whispered, heart hammering again.
He really did change his jersey that night. I just hadn’t registered it properly in my mind because he changed into an identical one.
All these years, I’d made an incorrect assumption about that jersey, and I’d based most of my theory about the killer on it. I was so sure of myself, too. But I was wrong. Dead fucking wrong.
Paxton had never lied about a single thing.
He was innocent.
Paxton
The night of - April 12th, 2019
11:36 p.m.
Sienna stirred next to me on the bed, letting out a faint murmur. I stared down at her, unable to believe how beautiful she was. Not only that… the fact that she’d chosen me over any of the other guys who clearly wanted her.
I knew I could attract girls, but that was based on shallow shit—my looks and status as an athlete. Sienna wasn’t like that. She was sweet, smart, and genuine. She wanted to know me beyond all the usual bullshit. It sounded crazy, because we’d only been official for about three hours, but I already felt like I was falling for her. This wasn’t going to be some sort of one-night party fling. No fucking way.
A feminine voice drifted down the hall. Faint moaning, followed by a whimper.
I grinned and rolled my eyes upward, realizing it must’ve been the sound that snapped me awake a few minutes ago. Sex noises. I had no idea who was hooking up, but I was willing to bet it was Troy and Callie. I’d caught them eyeing each other a few times over the night. It could also be Justin and Sammi. They famously didn’t get along, but I knew for a fact that they’d had several explosive hookups in the past. Typical hate-fucking kind of scenario.
With a yawn, I sat up straight. I needed to grab a drink. I figured I should get a glass for Sienna too, because she’d had a lot to drink earlier in the evening, and she was probably going to wake up feeling totally parched.
Being careful not to disturb her, I got out of bed, crept out of the room, and headed down the stairs. There was a small amount of firelight coming from the main living room, casting flickering shadows on the walls, but beyond that, the place was dark. It was eerily quiet now, too. No more moaning or whimpering from anywhere.
I took a left at the end of the hall to head toward the kitchen. My right foot caught on something a moment later, and I stumbled forward, almost falling flat on my face.
“Jesus,” I muttered as I righted myself. I rubbed my eyes and looked down to see Troy lying on the floorboards. He was face down, and the room was quite dark, but I could tell it was him from his bulky frame and the thick black curls on the back of his head. “You good, man?”
He didn’t respond.
I grinned and shook my head, aiming a gentle kick at his shin. “How fucking drunk are you, man?”
Still no response.
I softly tapped my foot against his leg again. “Come on. Wake up. I’ll help you get into bed.”
Troy still didn’t move or make a single sound.
“You’re gonna regret passing out here in the morning,” I went on, leaning down to roll him over. “Your back will be fucked.”
When I rolled him onto his back, a strange smell hit me. Something metallic mixed with something pungent. My hands were suddenly wet and sticky, too.
“Oh, shit!” I shook Troy. “Wake up, man. C’mon. Wake the fuck up!”
He must’ve fallen and hit his head. There was blood everywhere. Fucking everywhere. I couldn’t understand how I’d missed it when I tripped over him. Sure, it was dark and I was half-asleep, but still, I should’ve realized.
