Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 100294 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 501(@200wpm)___ 401(@250wpm)___ 334(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100294 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 501(@200wpm)___ 401(@250wpm)___ 334(@300wpm)
I ask Jenny how her date went the other day before I step aside so others can order.
“You’re buying him food now.” Georgia’s brows lift. “That’s domestic. That’s relationship behavior.”
“Shut up.” I can’t wait for her to fall on her ass over a guy. I’m going to enjoy the hell out of that.
“Emily P.,” Jenny calls out.
Georgia’s head snaps toward the counter. Mine too. Her hand drops from her braid.
It’s a girl with hair so black it’s almost blue when the light hits it. She’s a whole vibe with her smoky eye makeup, dark lipstick, the kind of cool that takes effort to look effortless. She’s drowning in an oversized cashmere cardigan, vintage band tee, and designer boots scuffed just right. Paint-stained fingers grab her coffee.
It’s her.
Emily, last year’s victim, possibly this year’s killer. She turns with her coffee, catching us staring. She gives a small, polite smile, like you do to strangers, and settles in at a window table.
She takes out a sketchbook and starts drawing, just like any other art major passing time before class. But this isn’t where her college is. She’s supposed to be in Chicago.
She looks normal. Peaceful. Her charcoal moves in dark, jagged strokes that don’t match her expression at all.
“That’s her,” Georgia breathes.
“I know. You think we should—”
“Class,” Georgia is quick to remind me.
Every instinct screams “follow,” “watch,” and “confront.” See, headfirst.
“We have to get to class. Then we tell the others.”
We grab our food and coffee. Emily doesn’t look up from her sketching as we pass.
“She didn’t appear to recognize me.” I say this when we’re farther away from the coffee shop, heading back toward campus. I suppose I’ve gotten it into my head that whoever killed Coach Murphy knew Luke and I were in the boathouse that first night. They’d quickly moved the body before we could return.
“I mean, Lana could get actress of the year at this point with how she’s pretending to not know anything.”
“She’s really good at it,” I say with a dry laugh. “Lana’s really pretty. She should use her talent for acting.”
“Do not tell her that. It will go straight to her head,” Georgia says.
“I’ll keep that in mind when she and I are at our next slumber party together.”
When we hit campus, students linger in groups on the sidewalk.
A girl ahead of us stops walking, stares at her phone, and turns to her friend with her hand over her mouth. I hear more phones going off and small gasps coming from different small groups.
“What’s up?” I ask when we catch up to Kate. We have a class together. Georgia smiles and shakes her head, always teasing me about knowing everyone even if I’ve only been here a short time.
“Police,” Kate says, eyes wide. “Down by the lake. My cousin just sent a video. They’ve got the whole area taped off with tents everywhere.”
“There is so much yellow tape,” her friend Nora adds, scrolling. “Someone posted on the town’s Facebook page. They said they saw a body bag.”
The news ripples through the crowd in real time. Texts are pinging, Snaps are opening, and voices are rising. In a town this small, horror travels at the speed of Wi-Fi.
Georgia’s fingers dig into my arm. We exchange a look. They found her. Murphy.
I need to find Luke. Now.
We went from the police finding Murphy to Emily showing up in town. That can’t be a coincidence. I want to know who Emily still talks to here and why she’s back. She’s not from here.
Luke and Grant come around the corner of the humanities building. Luke’s blazer is a bit wrinkled, his tie loose, and his hair still damp from a shower. He must have rushed out of practice to make it here. I wonder if they’ve heard the rumors.
“Hey.” I step forward and smile at him. “I got you this.” I hand him the sandwich. Suddenly, I feel awkward, and I’m not sure why.
Luke takes it without looking and gives me a quick kiss. Then he stops to actually see what I gave him.
“Just a sandwich; I thought you might be hungry.”
He just stares for a moment, like he’s not used to someone doing something small for him. Then he smiles. He could probably buy the bakery, the block, maybe even the whole town, but this simple thing makes him happy. Maybe no one does little things for him. He’s been on his own so long he doesn’t know how to react when someone else tries.
“Thanks, Buttercup.” He kisses me again, this time a little longer. We only stop when Grant clears his throat.
“I think the police found Murphy,” Luke says, confirming what I already know.
“Emily’s back. She’s in town.” I share my own news. Luke’s hand on my hip tightens. Grant mutters a curse, and Georgia is already typing quickly on her phone.