Page 43 of If Anything Happens To Me

Iris nodded. “Fitch and Matt . . . they must be working together,” she whispered.

I didn’t want to hear it. My head and my heart were not in sync. I’d been feeling so happy, for the first time since Eloise died. Matt had brought me out of that terrible place. But now I felt despair. I thought of all the times in the last hours that I’d seen Matt on his phone—probably texting Fitch. The bracelet he had given me felt like a snake around my wrist. I tried to rip it off, but he had pulled the knot too tight.

The math of it all was adding up to pure horror. If Iris recognized Fitch as her kidnapper, and if he had tried to capture her again just minutes ago, and if Matt was driving him—with him even now, trying to get us—then the sum of it all meant that Matt might have helped take Eloise. I felt as if I was going to be sick.

My phone vibrated—it was Matt calling. I just stared at the screen. I wanted so badly to answer, to hear his voice tell me I’d made a mistake, misinterpreted what I’d seen, and that I could trust him after all. But I kept replaying the scene on the street, Fitch grabbing for Iris, Matt doing nothing. I waited to see if he left a voicemail, but he didn’t. He texted.

Oli, where are you?

My fingers twitched, wanting to reply. Should I do it, see his response? Finally, I decided I had to try.

What are you doing?I texted.

Looking for you! Where are you?

Where’s Fitch?I asked.

He’s looking for you, too. Why are you acting like this?Matt wrote.

He’s bad, Matt.

WHAT?he asked.

Fitch’s the one who took Iris and Hayley,I wrote.Are you in it with him?

Oli, that’s INSANE!!!Matt said.

I started typing a reply, but then another text came in—but it wasn’t from Matt.

It was from Fitch.

Oli, don’t listen to Iris. She’s delusional. That can happen with a head injury, with brain trauma.

I didn’t reply, then Fitch texted again:

You could be in danger with her. She’s lying to you, and we don’t know what she’s capable of. From what Matt tells me, her sister is being held somewhere—or is she? Is there really a sister? Matt and I are waiting for you. Come find us. Please. We’ll get Iris the help she needs.

A few seconds later, Matt texted again:

Fitch explained everything to me, how Iris is totally unhinged. Come out and find us—I’m so worried about you.

I wanted to believe him. More than anything, I wanted that.

The basement was pitch-dark. Iris was standing against the wall. I gazed at her through the darkness. I had to ask myself: How well did I know her? I had met her just yesterday. What if Fitch was right, and she was unwell? I knew that trauma could cause changes in personality and behavior.

Had she made everything up? Or what ifshewas evil—the person behind what had happened to my sister?

I felt a quick rush of relief and told myself,Matt’s not involved, he’s on my side.

But then I remembered finding Iris in the grave, the same one where my sister’s body had been found. I could still see Iris’s panic, the terror in her eyes. I had pulled her out of that fissure in the rock. I had seen the cut on her head, the scrapes on her arms and legs, the mud and leaves caked onto her skin.

And I knew for sure: Iris wasn’t making anything up.

She had not climbed into that grave herself. Someone else had buried her there. And held her prisoner.

Fitch. She had recognized him. He had tried to kill her just as he had killed Eloise.

And maybe Matt had helped him.

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