Page 30 of Dead Girls Can't Tell Secrets

“Something is right outside our tent.”

I listen, and sure enough, I hear a scratching sound. It’s close. “Probably just a man-eating grizzly,” I whisper, burying myself in the sleeping bag.

“It’s not a grizzly,” she hisses. “It’s a person, and they’re listening to everything we say.”

“Not really worth verifying, though, is it? If it is a man-eating grizzly, you’ll never get the chance to say anything ever again. Because of the missing head and all.” A new sound makes its way in, like air blowing hard and fast against the side of the tent. The next joke dies on my tongue.

Jacey sucks in a breath and sits upright. Before I can find my flashlight to figure out what’s going on, she’s unzipping the tent. “Jacey—”

But she disappears into the dark.

There’s a scuffle. My body goes rigid with fear. I breathe. In and out. Listen.

Nothing. My heartbeat pounds in my eardrums as I shimmy out of the bag. Finding the flashlight, I duck through the opening.

“Savannah.” The voice pierces through the night, through my chest. I jump and shine the light toward the sound.

Jacey comes into view behind the tent, her pale face hazy in the wash of light. Her hand is raised, index finger pointed at the tent.

I guide my flashlight in the direction of her gaze until its glow illuminates the nylon…and the words that are now written there.

My hand shakes. Panic screeches inside my head, shattering my eardrums.

White paint. Letters splintered like tree bark. The same writing I found in Piper’s pack.

But the message is new.

Leave it alone.

Chapter 13

The flashlight drops to my side, and I swallow—once, twice—until my voice comes back. “Did you do this?” I ask Jacey, the words hoarse.

“What? Are you crazy? You heard someone out here too!”

“Yeah, well, there’s no one here now.”

“Savannah, listen to me. I saw someone—probably whoever did this. But they ran off.”

I don’t know what to do. She could be lying. But if she’s not, I might be able to catch this person. “Which way did they run?”

“That way,” she says, pointing toward the dark woods. “Let’s go find Mr. Davis.” She reaches for my hand, but I wrench my arm back.

“I’m going after them.”

“Savannah,” she hisses. “They could be dangerous.”

“That’s why I can’t let them get away.” She tries to grab my arm again, but I bat her off. Training the light in the direction she pointed, I start to sprint. The trees span out ahead of me, all claws. I let my light bounce from forest floor to eye level, trying not to trip.

I make it through the first line of trees and continue, listening for movement. But the forest is an endless void before me. I’m going to be lost out here all night. I strain my ears, but the only sound is twigs snapping beneath my feet. Just when I’m about to give up, my light lands on a person crouched in the grass.

Noah Crawford stands, the moonlight and the dim yellow circle from my flashlight illuminating his face. He glances around like a trapped animal.

I step closer, my light flicking down to the object at his feet, half buried in the grass.

A can of spray paint.

I gape at him, horror trickling from my scalp down through my body.

---