“He told me, Aves. You’re on his list of suspects.”
She tosses me a look of derision. “He lied to you. Obviously. And sent you upstairs to fling psycho accusations at me, embarrass us both in front of everyone. Jesus Christ, Liv. Get a grip on yourself. Why can’t you just stop digging? Leave it alone.”
The combination of words, the puzzle pieces of Avery’s resistance—it all comes together at once.
“You’re Quit Meddling,” I say. “You’ve been threatening me.”
Now Avery squirms, bravado slipping. “Look, I was only trying to protect you. You have to understand.”
“You threatened to kill me!”
“No, I didn’t. I said you don’t want to end up dead, like Emma. Big difference.”
“Avery. What the fuck?”
Everything she’s saying, the way she’s saying it, confirms my worst fears. She wants me to stop investigating because she knows something. She did something. To Emma.
“Come on, let’s calm the eff down and talk about all of this.” She says it low and slow, like I’m a toddler. Trying to lull me into a false sense of security.
“Get away from me!” The firepit scrapes against my calves as I scuttle past it. I back away, out of the spray of outdoor lights, into the shadows of the woods behind the house. Avery doesn’t follow. For once, she lets me go. A psycho playing the long game. Probably thinks the police won’t believe me. She’s rich as shit and inoculated against petty things like murder.
I walk along the side of the house, circling it, unsure where to go. My phone is inside, so I can’t call Cataldo. Adrenaline warmth is fading now, and I hug my arms tight to my chest to try to stave off the bone chill. A whipping wind cuts through the trees and straight through me. I walk faster now; I have to come back flush with the side of the house, following a stone staircase to the lower level of the lawn.
I stumble down the paving-stone steps. The doors that open into Tyler’s room on my left are lit by a soft glow. Inviting, but I keep going, rounding the side of the house. I run smack-dab into a broad chest.
“Oof,” we both exclaim. Then I take a step back, squinting in the dark to make him out.
“Tyler!” I exhale with relief. “I figured it out. I know who killed Emma!”
“I don’t think so,” he says. My eyes snag on his smirk. Then I see the gun that is pointing at my chest.
Startled, I stagger back, heel catching on a clump of something behind me. I crumple, right onto my ass, and feel a freezing wetness soak through my dress. I skitter back like a crab, try to right myself, to run away, but Tyler simply grabs me by the arm and wrests me up.
“Come on.” He walks me out into the blackness of the woods, his grip firmer and harder than Avery’s ever was. It’ll leave a bruise. I hear the gurgle of the river, louder with each step. What’s his plan? Throw me in? After he shoots me, obviously.
I curse myself for being so stupid. It’s always the boyfriend.
It’s like Tyler can read my thoughts. We stop, round off. He gives me a shove and angles the gun at me again. “You just couldn’t stop nosing around. At first, honestly, it was helpful. Made you look super guilty. Then you did me a huge solid with Tipton. But you’re just like those fucking Ivies. You never quit until you get what you want, no matter the consequences.”
“So you’re going to kill me?”
I’ve seen this movie. I need to keep him talking. Give me time to think. To figure out how the fuck I’m going to get out of this.
My eyes have adjusted enough to see Tyler shrug, glib. “I’m still deciding. It’ll be pretty suspicious if two Ivies turn up dead. You might have to disappear. It’s a spur-of-the-moment thing. You didn’t give me much lead time.” His mouth curls to the side, and he mutters something under his breath. I can’t catch it over the burble of the river.
Then both of us snap to attention at the sound of a sharp crunch, as if someone’s stepped on a branch.
“Tyler, what the fuck!”
It’s Avery. Relief floods through me. I’m saved. But then Tyler’s entire demeanor changes, shoulders deflating, gun hand shaking. He starts to sob.
“Avery, it’s her! She killed Emma!”
“No!” I shout, wishing she could see my pleading expression in the dark. “He’s lying!”
Avery takes tentative steps closer, then hesitates. Her eyes dart between us. Then with the firm set of her mouth and a nod, she decides.
“Stay here, Ty. I’ll get my phone and call the cops. And find something to tie her up with. Don’t move.”
Fuck. There’s no time to protest, to make my case. She whips around and takes off without another word, or even a look in my direction. Any hope I felt exits my body like air from a punctured balloon.
And Tyler, that colossal murdering asshole, smirks at me. “I should have applied to Yale drama.”
“You think they would have taken you, even though Cornell didn’t?” I decide to hit him where it hurts. Ivy rejections. His mouth purses into a sour pucker.
“Who told you?”
“Megan.”
“God, I hate that bitch. She had one job! Write me a killer essay that gets me into school. It’s not that hard.”
“I thought she didn’t write your essays for you?” The snippet I read from his essay about Emma didn’t sound professional, by any stretch.
“Exactly.”
“You’re a real piece of work, killing someone and then writing about it in your essay like you’re the victim.”
Tyler’s eyes glint wickedly. “Did you like it? I think it’s a winner, no thanks to Megan. You think I’m kidding about Yale? After I catch you, all the Ivies will be clamoring to let me in.”
“So you’re turning me in now? How exactly is that going to work? I’ll tell them what you did.”
“What did I do? The cameras were down. I was asleep in my room, officers!” He holds up his hands as if under arrest. Then he laughs. “I’m the picture-perfect boyfriend, Liv. I was cleared as a suspect ages ago. Doting partner, didn’t know about any cheating, so no motive. You, on the other hand, have an excellent one. The whole SAT thing would really fuck up your life, wouldn’t it? As far as Claflin is concerned, you printed those fake IDs. Emma really fucked you over. You found out, and voilà.”
I shake my head. “I didn’t find out until after she died. Besides, Cataldo knows all about the SAT scam. I gave her screenshots of Emma’s spreadsheet. She knows I had nothing to do with it. I had no motive.”