I jog to the back of the house, which is ringed by trees that form the edge of dense woods. It’s getting darker now, and cooler, and crickets are out in full force. Their chirping is all I can hear as I follow an overgrown stone path to Lara’s back door. I grab the scratched brass handle and tug—first lightly, then harder as I can feel the flimsiness of the lock. I jiggle the handle every which way, tugging with ever-increasing force until the door finally pops open.
I slip inside and shut the door behind me. I’ve never been back here—it’s like an indoor porch, with a bright green rug and wicker furniture everywhere—but Lara’s house isn’t big. I follow the only exit—a narrow hallway—until I see the familiar yellow paint of Lara’s living room. And then I see…
Lara’s scream is so deafening that I let out a yell, too, and back into the wall with my hands up. “I’m sorry!” I call as she continues to shriek. “I didn’t mean…I just…the door was open. I’m sorry!”
“Oh my God,” Lara says as recognition finally sparks in her eyes. Her face is flushed, one hand over her heart. “Oh my God, Cal. You scared the life out of me. I thought for sure that you were…” She inhales a deep breath. “Oh my God. Okay.”
I drop my hands as my heart rate starts to slow, and then I notice the oversized suitcase beside her. “Are you…where are you going?”
Lara looks down at the suitcase like she forgot it was there, then back at me. “Leaving town,” she says.
It shouldn’t surprise me, I guess, but it still does. I reach under my shirt and pull out the bag of Oxy. “Because of this?”
“What is…” Lara peers at the bag, her expression hardening. “Where did you get that?”
“Your desk drawer, at school. The one you keep locked. This was one of, like, twenty plastic bags stuffed in there.”
I’m not sure what kind of reaction I was expecting, but a bitter laugh wasn’t it. “Of course,” Lara says. “Of course it was.”
“Of course?” Anger starts to prick at my already-overstimulated nerves. “Sure. Right. Just like you of course put Boney’s name on your kill list, and now he’s dead.”
“I did what?” Her brow creases with what looks like genuine confusion. “What are you talking about?”
“The Carlton High class roster, with Boney’s name circled? Ivy found it in your day planner. Which she took, by the way. While we were in Second Street Café.”
“Ivy took…” Lara’s red bag is on the couch, and she grabs it by the strap and hauls it toward her. She roots through it for a few seconds, her expression darkening at what she doesn’t find. “Ugh, that sneaky little bitch! I’m glad I sent those Carlton Speaks videos to the media. She deserves every bit of shit she’s getting.”
“You sent…so you…” I trail off, frowning. Something isn’t adding up. “Why were you trying to get Ivy in trouble if you didn’t know she’d taken this? What do you have against her?”
“Nothing. I just needed a distraction.” Lara hoists the bag on her shoulder. “I needed time to get a few things together so I can make, shall we say, a fresh start. Because once I leave here, I’m never coming back.”
I should be scared of her, probably, since I’m standing between her and whatever escape plan she’s hatched. But for some reason, I’m not. All I can think about is how badly I need answers, and how easy it would be for her to slip away before she gives them.
“So you killed Boney?” I say. “Or had him killed? Which is it?”
Lara lets out another short, humorless laugh. “That’s what you think? Really? And here I thought you knew me, Cal.” I stare at her, wordless. “Whatever your sneaky little friend found in my planner—it wasn’t mine.” She gestures toward the plastic bag still dangling from my fingertips. “And those aren’t mine. But you bought into it, didn’t you? You thought they were. Which is exactly what he wanted you to think.”
“Who?” I ask. “Dominick Payne?”
I take a step back and wait for her reaction, almost eager to see how stunned she is that we figured it out. And she does look shocked, but not in the way I expected. “Dominick?” Lara asks, almost choking on the name before her mouth settles into an incredulous half smirk. “You think Dominick Payne is some kind of drug lord? How do you even—no.”
“No?” I hate the uncertainty in my tone, but I’m not ready to give up on Dominick Payne. Partly because he fits so well, but also because…who the hell else is there?
“No.” Her lip curls. “So you’ve been playing detective, huh? I’m disappointed, Cal. I would’ve expected a better guess.”
“Why?” I ask, frustrated.
Lara zips the top of her bag and fixes me with a disdainful look. “Because the answer is right in front of your face.”
IVY
Gravel crunches beneath my tires as I turn left onto a private way. “Arrived,” my GPS informs me, and I’m confused. Why would Daniel and Trevor be here? There’s only one house that I can see. It’s lit up, but there’s no car in the driveway. Ahead of me, parallel parked on the side of the road, is another car with its headlights on. Beyond that, everything looks deserted.
Unease flutters in my stomach, and I pull out my phone to text Daniel. I’m here. I think?
His reply is near instant, and the headlights flash on the car in front of me. I see you.
What are you guys doing here?