Page 63 of Dead Girls Can't Tell Secrets

“Okay, Grant,” Jacey says, attempting to push past him. “We’ll keep quiet. Promise.”

But he doesn’t back up to let her pass.

“Did you—” I start to ask, even though it’s a stupid question, maybe even a deadly question. But I have to know. “Do you know something about what happened to Piper? Did you see her that day?”

The letterc. Maybe it didn’t stand forcoachafter all.

Maybe it stood forcaptain.

Grant sighs loudly through his clenched teeth. He rubs at the back of his neck again, hard enough to leave a mark. “I’m sorry,” he says, looking straight at me.

And my heart stops beating.

Piper

The Day She Fell

“I don’t know anything about it,” Grant says. I’ve led him around the main building, following the chain-link fence that borders the athletic fields. The football players must be at weight training, because there’s no one around. At least, no one Grant cares about. An occasional cross-country runner jogs by, and color guard flags twirl in the shade of the trees at the far side of the fields.

“Please,” I beg, shutting my eyes, racking my brain for how to make him see. But instead, the tears finally come, and Grant stares at me like I’ve lost my mind. “You don’t understand how much I need this. How everything will be ruined if I can’t write this story.”

“Maybe I should call your sister.” He glances at his phone.

“No!” I say, too fast.

“Then talk to me. Don’t go snooping around Mr. Davis’s office, though.” Grant’s tone is stern, but his hazel eyes soften as I sniffle pathetically. “He’s not covering up some drug scandal. You of all people should know that.”

“If you tell me what you know, I’ll leave your name out of the story. I promise.”

“You’ll leave my name out of the story because there is no story.”

He turns to leave, but a spark alights in my brain, pushing me to go after him.

“That’s not what I gathered from Mr. Davis’s office. Some random drug tests were missing. Including yours.” This is a complete gamble; I never had the chance to look for Grant’s test. “Any idea why that would be?”

He only frowns, so I press on. “Because I have a guess. I think it’s because you and those other guys tested positive for anabolic steroids, and now Mr. Davis is scrambling for a way to fake the tests before he sends them to the athletics association.”

Grant peeks over his shoulder, then leans in close. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.” His breath is hot on my face.

But I see it in his jaw—a nervous twitch, like a worm beneath the skin, trying to bust its way out. He knows something.

“I’m going—”

“You’ll talk, Grant,” I interrupt, flinging a strand of hair out of my eye. “Or I will.” He licks his lips, and he’s still so close to me that my insides bunch up. But I force my shoulders down, force my face to relax. “Now, tell me why some of the drug tests are missing.”

He glances around one more time, and then exhales slowly. “Mr. Davis called a handful of us into his office. He said we had to retest because our results had been compromised.”

“What does that mean?”

Grant crosses his arms. “If my name comes up—and I meanever—you’re going to pay.” He bares a flash of teeth like an animal, and I want to back up.

Instead, I force out, “It won’t.” Despite his threats, Grant knows I have the upper hand. Even if he’s not worried about his athletic future, he’s still worried about what my sister thinks of him. He can’t walk away now. “You can tell me.”

He flushes, fingers twisting the sports watch on his wrist. “I let those other guys use my”—his eyes drop down to my sneakers—“sampleto pass the test. And I guess it was a mistake. The lab must’ve known we’d all used the same sample.”

“You cheated.”

“To help out some friends.”

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