Page 72 of Dead Girls Can't Tell Secrets

His fingers wrap around my sleeve. “There’s something I need to say.” I look up to find a sheen in his hazel eyes.

Immediately, my heart speeds up. I’m not sure I can handle another revelation. Not from him.

Grant’s teeth clamp on to his lower lip. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about seeing Piper that day.” His feet shuffle in the dirt. “Or about any of it. I thought I was the last person to see her before she did it and that I didn’t do enough to help. To stop her.”

My stomach bunches. I understand his fear all too well. I can’t fault him for holding out on me. But I can’t be swept up by his charm either. This year, I’ve focused so hard on shiny things—on Grant, being prom queen, and getting into MLC—that I stopped seeing what really mattered. It’s like this massive pain in my head has me thinking clearly for the first time. I’m not ignoring what’s in front of me. Right now, that’s my sister. “Just handle the cops for me, okay?”

He nods, and I speed ahead, the thought of what will happen between Grant and me fading to black as I reach the others.

“Is it true?” Noah asks, his voice low and faltering.

“Head to the cops with Tyler and Grant,” I say without slowing.

The trail swerves ahead, and my heart thumps in time with my steps. I break into a run, leaving Mr. Davis and the others behind. He shouts after me, but I ignore him, pumping my arms, backpack bouncing behind me, moving my short legs as fast as they’ll go. Mr. Davis is still calling out about debriefing but none of us are listening.

I make it to the small paved lot at the base of the mountain, Jacey and the others right behind me. But as we cross the shady road and head toward the school parking lot, I glance back, catching a flash of red flannel at the base of the mountain.

We aren’t alone.

I hurry the others along, and we make the ten-minute walk to the school in half that. Only a few cars speckle the school lot on a Sunday afternoon. We’re all racing, Jacey and me to her Honda, the boys to Grant’s truck.

I’m almost at Jacey’s car. When I move to hop a concrete divider, there’s a hard tug on my jacket, and I nearly topple backward. “What?” I snap, turning around to see Tyler, whose face is sickly pale.

He points across the lot. “Does Mr. Davis drive that blue Chevy?”

I blink and follow his gaze to where the beat-up Chevy sits in a shade-strewn patch at the back of the lot. “No, he drives that black sedan.” I flick my chin toward the only car in the designated faculty spots closest to the school entrance.

“That Chevy was here when I came looking for Piper on the day she fell. I figured it belonged to one of the teachers. But they wouldn’t be here now, on a Sunday.” He takes a shallow breath. “Whose truck is that?”

“I don’t know. Let’s just go.” I continue to Jacey’s car, and Tyler rushes off to follow Grant.

Suddenly, the Chevy rumbles to life, but I can’t see its owner through the tinted windshield.

It throttles into reverse, and the smell of burnt rubber fills the air as it screeches out of the parking lot.

Another scent slinks into its place. Sharp, acrid.

Panic.

I pull open the passenger door of Jacey’s car and dive inside. “We have to get to the hospital.”

Chapter 30

“Who drives that blue truck?” I ask as we screech to a stop at yet another red light. “Sam?” It’s too hot in here. I wrestle my jacket off, discarding it at my feet.

“I don’t know,” Jacey says, her eyes fixed on the road. She nibbles the nails on her left hand, right hand on the steering wheel. When the light turns green, she guns it again, turning onto the road that leads to the hospital.

The sun is already low and hidden behind the medical buildings when we arrive. As we park, I scan the lot for the blue Chevy, but there are too many cars.

When we finally reach the fourth floor, a nurse asks, “Can I help you?”

“My cousin and I are here to see my sister, Piper.” I point toward Piper’s room, not slowing as I jerk Jacey along by the crook of her arm.

“Go right ahead,” the nurse says, smiling and scribbling something down on her clipboard. “Your other cousin is already in there.”

Myothercousin? A new wave of fear laps over me, pushing me down the hall.

I approach the closed door, a cramp of terror seizing my hand as I reach for the handle.

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