Marcus is desperate. I just need a reminder. Something to help me be smart about this.
I hit Play, and after a second, the video starts. They’re in the little shed Marcus uses as an art studio behind his house. I skip forward until I reach the place where the camera starts bouncing around.
“You bitch.” Marcus’s voice is venom. He spits the word at the phone.
The shot stays on his furious face—barely recognizable compared to how he looked tonight—until something flies at the camera. A shriek sounds behind the lens. I flinch.
“Out of my face, Gretchen—God, I wish you were dead.”
“Wouldn’t that be convenient?” Gretchen’s voice is steady. My heart aches at the sound. “You could declare your love for Sonia and live happily ever after.”
The camera jerks toward the ceiling, the walls, then a paint-streaked hand closes over the lens.
The sound cuts out and the picture goes black.
I close my eyes. I’d never let on that I was crushing on Marcus, so when Gretchen showed me the footage, I didn’t know what to say. They were her words, not his. Her accusation felt like a huge misunderstanding, and it probably was. But his words are what ring true to me now.
I wish you were dead.
I watch the whole thing through two more times and sit motionless on the floor of my closet, fighting my own regrets. I think of Marcus coming into the diner, sitting there asking for my help. Each time I run through it in my head, the luster fades, and I’m more convinced. His feelings toward me haven’t changed; he’s just looking for an out. A wave of nausea passes through me, but once it’s gone, my whole head seems to clear.
This is exactly what I needed to see.
I’m not sure what kind of “help” Marcus is looking for—but once I find out, maybe I can get close enough to prove he did kill Gretchen.
EIGHT
DINA DROPS ME AT SCHOOL on Tuesday, and from the time I step out of the car, the whispers are practically a roar. I think it’s worse than yesterday. I catch Marcus’s name here and there, but people’s voices drop when I approach and what I do hear is closer to gossip than information.
The SD card is tucked safely back inside the box at the bottom of my closet, but the recording sits in my heart like a shard. On the one hand, it undeniably incriminates Marcus. I just wish Gretchen hadn’t decided to bring my name up. The thought of the sheriff asking me to explain a nonexistent romance with a suspect in her murder makes me sick to my stomach. That’s why I decided not to deliver it to him this morning with his pancakes and eggs.
That, and Gretchen wouldn’t want him to see what else was on the card.
A lot of people wouldn’t.
I pass the guidance office as a girl from the tennis team walks in, sobbing. The grief counselors beckon to me with compassionate faces, making me all too aware of the absence sucking up the air around me everywhere Gretchen ought to be. But talking about my feelings is not going to make me feel better. Ever.
Aisha appears at my side halfway down the main hall. “Hey, heard you had a run-in with Marcus. Did he really threaten you?”
“Threaten me?”
She frowns. “Sasha Fadley said he came to the diner and said all kinds of crazy things.”
I hesitate. “He did come to the diner, but he just ordered a coffee.”
“Oh.” Her face flushes and she adjusts her books. “Maybe Sasha heard wrong.”
As we round a corner the air goes still. I look up to see a lone figure standing in front of a row of yellow lockers. It would be obvious which one was Marcus’s even if he wasn’t standing in front of it, ignoring everyone like it’s his job. The purple door stands out from the surrounding yellow lockers, but someone’s also drawn a big X over it in black. A few people near me whisper Killer. And Can you believe he had the nerve to come back? One girl giggles. Students move around him down the hall, but everyone maintains a wide berth.
Including me.
I feel him watching as we pass. Marcus has never been much of a talker, but there’s always something going on behind his eyes and I’ve spent too many hours wondering about it. I focus on my locker, just past his along the same wall. I’m not sure when I’ll get the chance to speak to him, but it’s not going to happen in front of the whole school. Aisha glues herself to my side, taking a position in front of me like a sentry.
Someone behind us whispers: “So, could he get lethal injection?”
“Nah, he’ll just rot in jail for life.”
“Fuck off, all of you.”
Yuji walks by with a scowl, pushing past everyone. He goes right up to Marcus, clapping him on the shoulder as if they’re talking tennis or football.