“I’m not the person to answer that.”
Though the library was chilly, Ned’s forehead shone with sweat. He’d dressed as any respectable fashion vlogger would for a weekend getaway to a luxurious rustic home: woolen plaid shirt, thick tan pants, suede slip-ons in a fetching shade of loden green. Several of his shirt buttons were undone and I could see sweat on his breastbone, too. I’d arranged the overstuffed chairs across from each other so we were knee to knee. It’s how I used to sit with Carson in his office when we talked about Bram. Carson said it was conducive to sharing and created a balance of power that helped people relax. With Ned, the arrangement made me apprehensive. We were a mirror image of each other, our feet firmly planted on the soiled rug, and in that moment Ned and I were equals. So why did I feel so unstable? Nothing I knew about him indicated he was violent, yet I didn’t like being alone with Ned. As I watched him joggle one knee and then the other I realized it wasn’t the man I feared, but the possibility he’d bolt.
Holding him in my gaze, I leaned forward and pushed a piece of hair from my brow. I was so close I could see Ned’s pulse in his neck. His eyes moved to the scar on my cheek, widened at the faint stitch marks that gave it a centipede look, and cut away. “You and Jasper are pals,” I said.
“That’s right.”
“For his sake, help me figure this out. Something happened here yesterday. We both know it involves his family.”
I was throwing it all out there, hoping to gain purchase. Now Ned’s hands were twitching, too. As he rubbed his palms up and down his muscled thighs I saw his nails were polished to a high shine.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He wouldn’t look at me.
“You and Flynn haven’t been getting along.”
“Flynn’s a salty bastard. We argue. So what?”
“My fiancé and I argue, too. Sometimes those arguments escalate, make us say and do crazy things. Has that ever happened with you and Flynn?”
“Have we ever argued and ended up killing someone? Nah,” he said, “we usually stick to armed robbery.”
“If Flynn’s such an asshole, why did you get together with him at all?” I couldn’t conceive of a more unlikely match, or understand what anyone could see in Flynn that had the potency to spark romantic attraction, let alone sexual desire.
“Domineering brutes are my type.”
“Are they?” I said. “Just men, or women, too?”
“What business is it of yours?” Ned dragged a hand across his forehead with a sound like sandpaper on wood. “Look, Flynn wasn’t always this way. He treated me like royalty. I cared about him, okay?”
“You realize I’ve spoken with everyone but you. There are some disadvantages to being last. The others already had their chance to shape the story. Do you get what I’m saying, Ned? Whatever you aren’t telling me, the secret you think you’re hiding? I already know.”
“Jesus Christ, it doesn’t fucking matter. We should be looking for Jasper! What if he’s still on the island, hurt or . . .” His voice trailed off. “What if he needs help?”
My visions of Jasper out there in the storm . . . Ned saw them, too. They stretched his mouth into the shape of a scream. He wasn’t wrong with those what-ifs. I’d searched bits and pieces of the three-acre island alone. I could easily have missed something. Jasper might still be shivering in the mud while his blood turned the yellow leaves black. Knowing Ned was thinking the same thing softened me, but only a little. As he spoke Ned folded his arms across his chest, a demonstration of his refusal to tip his hand.
“What do you think I’m trying to do?” I said with frustration. “Everything matters—every act, every look, every word. We’re not going to find Jasper until we know who hurt him. He could be dying out there.” He could be dead.
Ned ground the heels of his hands into his eyes. “There was a fight,” he said in a tight voice. “Last night.”
“Right. Upstairs.” Loud voices after midnight.
His forehead puckered. “No. That was Miles and Bebe.”
It was the first time he’d spoken her name. I watched carefully but his expression didn’t change. “Miles and Bebe?”
“Arguing in their room.”
“Are you saying there was another fight? Somewhere else?”
“Outside.” Ned cocked his head. “You didn’t know?”
I felt my cheeks get hot. I’d told him I knew everything worth knowing.
“I thought,” Ned said, “maybe Flynn . . .”
“Lucky you. You get to be the one to fill me in. Who was involved in this fight?” I said. “You and Flynn?”
“No. Flynn and Jasper.”
Remembering Flynn’s knuckles, battered and bruised, made my chest seize up. Got in a fight with his brother and took off. Hadn’t that been Tim’s theory from the start? “What happened?”
Ned’s face went from pained to resolute. Somewhere in the span of a few seconds he’d made the decision to betray someone. In the gloomy half-light of the room there was a cruel curl to his lip. “Abby wasn’t the only one who had too much to drink last night. Flynn got lit and laid into Jas. He hit him.”
“Flynn physically assaulted his brother last night.” I blinked at Ned. “I’ve talked to every person in this house and not one of them mentioned this.”
Ned lowered his voice another notch. “That’s because they don’t know. It was after dinner, late. Everyone was in bed. The only person we saw afterward was Norton. He was in the kitchen when we came inside. I told him Jas tripped in the yard.”
“Why?” I asked. “Did Jasper ask you to cover it up? Or were you trying to protect Flynn?”
“Neither,” he said, and looked away. Earlier, when I’d interviewed Bebe and Miles, I’d caught them exchanging a conspiratorial glance. Old habits die hard, and I suspected that maxim applied to Ned’s loyalty to Flynn as well.
“Okay,” I said, wondering if Ned could hear the light-speed rhythm of my heart. “Back up. Walk me through this.”
He exhaled and wiped his brow. “Dinner was over. We went out back to smoke a joint and Flynn followed us. Started in on Jasper.”
It would have been pouring by then. That explained the dried mud on Flynn’s, Ned’s, and Jasper’s shoes. Before long, I had enough details to envision the scene. Jasper and his older brother breathing hard, locked in a struggle in the storm. Ned forcing his way between them, but not before Flynn split open Jasper’s lower lip. When Ned got to that part of the narrative, my mind jumped back to our crime scene. There was no way a split lip could have caused the stain on the mattress, but it did clarify the source of the blood on Jasper’s pillowcase.