Mac still couldn’t wrap her mind around the fact that Julie thought Parker was still alive—and more than that, that Parker had been with them, a fifth girl in their group. She’d claimed that Parker had been the one who named Ashley in film studies that day, but Julie had said Ashley’s name herself. So . . . what did that mean? Was Parker a personality of Julie’s? Did Julie walk around half the time thinking she was in Parker’s skin?
Mac was astonished that they’d missed something so severe right under their noses. In hindsight, there had been times where it had seemed like Julie was contradicting herself, but Mac had just thought she was arguing a problem through from both angles. And it wasn’t like Julie had any parents to notice what was going on—her mom probably never even knew where she was. She could slip here and there as she pleased. If only they’d kept better tabs on her. Looked out for her more. Could they have prevented this? And worse, where was Julie now?
A shadow darted past Mac on the street, headed in the opposite direction of the cop cars. Mac took in the colorful costume and gasped—it was Claire, and now she was standing all alone in the middle of the road, staring at something on her phone.
“Hey!” Mac called out, running toward her. “Claire!”
Claire looked up, but her eyes were glassy. Her nose wrinkled at the sight of Mac. “Go away, already,” she said in a bored voice.
“Get out of the street!” Mac screamed.
Claire made a face. “Why?”
Just then, Mac heard the rumble of a car engine. “Claire!” Mac cried as she advanced. The car revved again. An acid-like smell rose in the air. And suddenly, from out of nowhere, a car shot forward, straight for Claire’s body.
“No!” Mac sprinted for Claire. Headlights blazed in the road as bright as a flashbulb, illuminating them both in the glare. The car was moving fast, seemingly oblivious to the fact that the cops were only a hundred or so yards behind them. Finally, Claire looked up. She seemed blinded by the white light. Her mouth hung open and her limbs were slack.
“Move!” Mac screamed. She reached Claire a millisecond before the car did, throwing herself against Claire’s body and tackling her to the grass. They landed together on the other side of the street, slamming into the curb with painful force. Claire screamed. Mac momentarily couldn’t breathe. The car screeched past them, just inches away, down the block and around the corner.
Mac heard a low whimpering behind her and turned. Claire had sat up, but she was hunched over, looking dazed. She cradled her left hand in the crook of her right arm. Then she turned and stared at Mac, her eyes widening as she seemed to realize that Mac had saved her.
Wordlessly, Claire looked back at her hand. Mac looked, too. Claire’s fingers were mangled, twisted over one another in an unnatural configuration. Her pinky stuck out at a horrible angle, clearly broken in more than one place.
“Oh my god,” Mac said. “Claire. Your fingers.”
Claire’s face was pale. She opened her mouth as if to speak, but then her eyelids fluttered closed, and she slumped to the grass.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
AN HOUR LATER, CAITLIN STOOD with Mac and Ava in the lobby of the police station. Officers were rushing here and there, and the place seemed in pandemonium, phones ringing and printers blaring and everyone talking at once. Caitlin’s heart was still racing. She’d been by Mac’s side shortly after Claire was mowed down by that car, but the EMTs and police officers had shooed them all out of the way, sending them home. But they couldn’t go home. They had to come here . . . and tell the truth.
McMinnamin appeared in the doorway, his gaze settling over the girls. “Come on back,” he said gruffly.
Wordlessly, everyone followed him. Caitlin’s nose twitched with the stench of stale coffee and too-sweet pastries. She searched the officers’ faces for signs of what had happened that night. Was Claire okay? No one had heard anything after she was loaded into the ambulance. Had it really been Julie who’d tried to hit her? Surely the cops didn’t still suspect them, did they?
The officer led them into an empty room and gestured for all of them to sit. “So. Busy night, huh?”
Everyone nodded. Ava’s breaths came out in little gasps.
McMinnamin put his hands on his hips. “You know something, right? Is that why you’re here?”
Caitlin eyed Mac and Ava. Everyone nodded. It was time, Caitlin knew, but she still felt a pang. It felt wrong to give Julie up. They had promised to stick together.
Mac took a deep breath. “We think it’s Julie Redding.”
McMinnamin nodded. His Adam’s apple bobbed. “Okay, then.”
Caitlin stared at the floor. “She kind of . . . confessed,” she admitted.
It was still hard to process what had happened . . . and who Julie was . . . and what had actually gone down in Nyssa’s house. But yes, Julie had confessed. Sort of. She’d said Parker had done it, but Parker wasn’t here.
“But then she ran off,” Ava added. “We’re afraid she was the one who hurt Claire Coldwell.”
McMinnamin nodded. “That’s what we’re afraid of, too.”
Caitlin whipped her head up. “Wait. You are?”
“Yes, we’ve been watching Julie for some time.”