The air thins. I swallow hard. “Why would you do that?”
He slumps against the wall. “Kirsten asked me to. She seemed really angry . . . I wanted to make her feel better.” He looks at me like he might be sick. “I’m sorry, Sonia.”
My stomach twists. I glance at Marcus, who for once is so shocked he has nothing to say.
“I couldn’t believe she even wanted to talk to me.” Kip’s eyes glaze. “She’s so much like Gretchen.”
“She is. And she isn’t,” I say, but the look on his face . . .
Marcus comes to stand by my side. “What else did she ask you to do?”
“That was all.”
“Did she tell you what it was for?”
“No, man, and I didn’t ask.” Kip looks up, irritated. “You don’t say no to a girl like that. Oh wait, I forgot. You just murder them.”
Marcus steps forward, but I pull on his arm as Kip’s words spiral through my head. I think of Kirsten being left behind after the fight at the party, then showing up at home a couple of hours later.
“Did anyone actually see Kirsten with that freshman she supposedly hooked up with?”
They both look at me, confused. But she’s so much like Gretchen. I let go of Marcus and grab Kip’s hand, my heart pounding in my ears because I don’t have enough time to think about this, and I’m scared because it makes too much sense.
“You said she’s a lot like Gretchen,” I say quickly.
He nods.
“Okay.” I squeeze his hand. “And Marcus just pointed out she’d look even more like her if she dyed her hair red again.”
“I guess, but—”
“This is important, Kip. You told the sheriff you saw Gretchen sitting at the top of the falls the night she died, but are you sure it was her?”
Kip blinks at me, perplexed, but I can tell there’s something going on behind his eyes.
“Kirsten’s hair was red that night.” I wet my lips. “Could it have been her?”
Seconds pass like eternity before Kip opens his mouth again.
“I guess it could have been.”
“It could have, or it was?” I ask.
Kip slumps to the floor, resting his chin in his hands. “I didn’t want to tell the sheriff how high I was that night. I was walking my bike home because I crashed and got a flat. I don’t know . . . it could have been either Gretchen or Kirsten.”
FORTY
MARCUS AND I PUSH OUT the side exit together, the dance beat muffled as the door clicks shut behind us. We find ourselves on the far end of the parking lot by the line of trees separating the school from the athletic fields. The air is cool and there isn’t a lot of light here, but the stars are enough for me to see the conflict on his face.
“What does that mean, what he just said?”
“I . . . I’m not sure.”
“Did Kip Peterson just tell us Kirsten killed Gretchen?”
My heart pounds so hard I can barely think. Is there any other way to interpret that?
“Marcus . . .”
“Sonia, this is important. It needs to make sense.”
He holds my gaze, and I know he’s right. This isn’t about postcards anymore.
“Let me just try to think.” I grip my head in my hands and turn a circle, gulping the night air. “Gretchen and I left the party after she and Kirsten fought, sometime before eleven o’clock. I drove her home, then ran into Haley . . .”
“I don’t think Haley matters here.”
“I’m just trying to get it straight in my own head, okay? I ran into Haley.”
“Okay, fine.” He backs off.
I stare at a broken chunk of asphalt lying in the grass. “I must’ve headed into the park a little after eleven . . .”
“Kirsten had time to make it there,” he says. “It only took me fifteen minutes to walk from Brianne’s to my grandmother’s house. It would’ve taken less time than that for her to make it to the park, and any freshman at that party would jump at the chance to brag that they hooked up with her.”
“So it could’ve been Kirsten who attacked me,” I say, my voice trembling.
“If she was mad at both of you, yeah. I don’t think she could’ve mistaken you for Gretchen.”
“She was mad and drunk.” I hesitate. “But that doesn’t explain the phone call.”
“Phone call?”
“Sheriff Wood said Gretchen called her house from her cell phone right after I dropped her off.”
“Oh, right.” His lip curls. “Maybe she was making sure no one was home so she could hook up with her drug dealer boyfriend.”
“But someone answered.”
“Maybe he was already there?”
“According to his alibi, he wasn’t.”