How the hell did he figure it out?
Kim was the only person still alive who knew where they had gone and what they had done. Rachel couldn’t imagine that she would have said anything, but what if she had? What if she’d hinted? Was Vega smart enough to figure it out?
Doubtful. But maybe the ex-marshal had.
She didn’t think so, but she couldn’t be certain. Taylor might have told Candace, even though Taylor swore up and down she hadn’t, but if Candace had said anything to Lucas three years ago, why had he waited until now?
On a sticky note on the wall, Lucas had written Was Taylor’s overdose accidental or suicide?
Good. He was thinking what she wanted him to think, that Taylor had killed herself out of guilt for killing Candace. That kept Rachel out of it, exactly as she wanted. If these people needed a guilty party and wouldn’t be satisfied with the drunk, then Taylor was the next best to blame. She’d already laid the groundwork with Steven and with Regan Merritt.
Taylor killed Candace, then killed herself out of guilt because of Lucas’s podcast. Case closed.
Rachel breathed a bit easier, but she still had more to go through.
Lucas’s backpack had notes, a copy of the notes she herself had sent in the hopes that he would drop the podcast—not smart in hindsight, she realized, because Regan had barely left his side since.
Then, she found the photo of Taylor, Candace, and Adele.
Well, fuck.
Rachel had taken this photo. It was the last day of her Intro to Bio class where the girls had met and befriended each other. She had caught them on the way out. They were happy because they had all gotten an A, and no matter how well they did on the final, their grades would be nothing less than an A minus. Rachel had hoped they would be her friends, girls she could mold and help develop. That’s what she wanted, to be a good mentor to her Sigma Rho sisters, to build friendships, to be liked and appreciated. Was that so much to ask?
Now it was on the verge of slipping away.
Where had Lucas gotten this photo? She’d had four copies made, given one to each of the girls, kept one for her own album. After Adele died, she’d used a master key she’d “borrowed” from Housing to access Adele’s room and take the picture, just so no one would question Candace and Taylor. She also looked for anything else that might give people the idea that Adele had been to her apartment. Had Candace given it to him three years ago? Or Taylor? Rachel had taken her computer, but she hadn’t searched that disgusting hovel Taylor had lived in.
Shit, shit, shit.
No, it wasn’t a problem. No one alive knew she’d taken the picture, and her copy was in her album, and no one had cause to look at it. And even if they did, it meant nothing: she was their professor; they gave her the photo. Simple as that.
She would have to destroy the picture. Just in case.
But Lucas had it.
She pocketed the picture.
Now he didn’t. One problem solved.
She read through the messages, finally found the anonymous letter that Regan Merritt had talked about on last night’s podcast. She read it. Once, twice, three times. Dammit!
Who was at the party who’d overheard Kim, Taylor, and Candace arguing? Who would do something like this, writing and sending Lucas this...this ridiculous diatribe? Kim? Maybe Kim thought she could throw Rachel under the bus.
That would be a mistake. Rachel had a lot of dirt on Kim, and maybe it was time to remind that bitch everything Rachel had done for her. Kim owed Rachel.
Could it have been Vicky?
Vicky had been new back then, she didn’t know anything about anything, and she worshipped Rachel. Rachel couldn’t imagine Vicky being so deceptive, going along with everything Rachel suggested about ignoring the podcast while writing secret notes on the side. Vicky wasn’t smart enough to pull off that kind of duplicity. In fact, Rachel had worked Vicky carefully, so that in the end she thought it was her own idea to forbid anyone in the sorority from talking to Vega or supporting the podcast.
Dammit, someone was playing games.
She didn’t know how long she had been in Lucas’s apartment. She took pictures of everything she saw, then slipped out.
She had a lot of thinking to do, to figure out how to proceed.
Rachel would fix this. There was no evidence that she had done anything to anyone. And as long as she stuck by her original story, all would be well.
It had to be.
Forty-One
Three Years Ago
Saturday, April 18
Candace Swain wanted to do the right thing.
Silence was complicity, she’d come to realize. She’d tried to convince herself that she shouldn’t feel guilty because she hadn’t killed Adele. But her guilt didn’t fade. In fact, the opposite. From the day Candace had chosen to remain silent over three years ago, it had grown like a cancer, shredding her soul.
By telling the truth, she probably wouldn’t graduate, even though she was only one month away from earning her nursing degree. She would certainly lose her friends in the sorority. She might even lose her family. Her future would be forever changed.
But her guilt would be gone. Even if she was sent to prison, the truth would set her free. It had to. She’d beg for forgiveness and take whatever punishment the system meted out because she deserved it. She didn’t want to go to jail, but if that was the result, she would take it.
Candace wouldn’t be alone. Taylor had finally agreed to join her. Candace had been alone in her grief and guilt for so long, that having someone by her side gave her hope that they would, eventually, get through this. Together.
That meant the world to her.