Page 55 of Say My Name

“I know, I know.” But I don’t know what to do differently. Statistically, swimming with sharks as their bait, I’m bound to hook one soon.

“Do you think it was Devereaux Huxley?” he asks.

I process his question and go with my gut. “I don’t think Devereaux is the culprit.”

He sighs. “I can possibly hold Katherine off, or the FBI, but you need to get somewhere on this case soon.”

“I can’t just very well go over to his house and knock on his door, ya know?”

“I know. I’m just saying.”

“Look, I know you’re all worried, but I’ll be fine.”

“Chloe, we have to figure this shit out.”

“I know.”

“I’ll call you if I find out anything.” Before he disconnects, he throws a doozy my way. “Oh, there is one thing. A neighbor said they saw a black truck driving by earlier.”

“Black truck?”

“Yeah with a bumper sticker that reads, ‘The closer you get, the slower I drive.”

“Oh, ok,” I say and he hangs up.

That’s Brandon’s truck. I don’t know why I didn’t mention it to Finn.

Sleep’s not happening tonight, so I pace the hardwood floors of my living room, ruminating on my conversations with Luna for any clues I might’ve missed. She never talked about anything but her boyfriend and their kinky sex life. Once, she mentioned not wanting to be a Greedy Girl because her boyfriend didn’t approve. Is he jealous?

Did he get mad at her for something?

No, it can’t be the boyfriend, because he has no real motive to kill the other girls.

I’m sure the police are questioning him, but my instinct says it’s not the boyfriend who’s behind this.

It’s someone else.

My mind conjures up Devereaux’s caramel-colored eyes. I stare at the TV screen, wondering if he’s capable of murder.

Club Greed closes for three days to mourn the loss of another girl.

On Wednesday afternoon, I’m standing at the graveyard, watching a cherry-wood casket being lowered into the ground. The girls from Club Greed flank me, overcome with grief. Sugar cries fat sloppy tears, even though she and Luna were never really that close. But I get it. Death has a way of making you wish you’d made more of an effort when they were alive.

I’ve been collecting names, looking for anyone suspicious at the funeral. So far, there’s no one out of place, just friends, family, and co-workers.

My gaze travels to Brandon, watching for his reaction to Luna’s burial. His stony face and statue-like posture give nothing away. A shiver crawls up my spine at the thought that every girl here, including me, wears a target on their back, and I’m clueless who wields the death bow.

Devereaux’s light-brown eyes crash into mine and the way he stares at me makes me feel like no one in the world can hurt me as long as he’s near.

My breath catches when his gaze travels over my simple black dress. It’s as if he physically touched me. I hate the way my heart pounds against my chest as I take in the sadness etched in the sharp planes of his face.

I glance back at Luna’s grave, but I can still feel his eyes all over me.

The service ends, and people disperse, but Devereaux’s leather shoes stay rooted in the grass. The Thorne twins say a few words to him, but his gaze doesn’t stray from the grave. His sister, Greer Huxley, runs a comforting hand down his arm before walking away with Roman and Ledger.

“Did you hear he paid for the funeral?” Panti says in a low voice to Kitty as we all head toward the cars parked along the street.

“Who?” I ask.

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