ble piece of evidence implicating your mom.”
“But…” I shake my head, sucking in a breath. “That’s even worse. If whoever killed Iris framed my mom, then—”
“Then they think they’ve won,” Chase finishes, cutting me off. “As long as she’s in jail with evidence piling up against her, the real killer will think they’re safe. It gives us time to keep looking—to keep digging.”
“While my mom rots in fucking jail!”
The words come out louder than I mean for them to, but I can’t help it. My volume control goes down when my anxiety goes up, and my nerves are like live wires right now.
“Yeah.” Dax grimaces. “That’s why I said this was the best of several shitty options.”
“Even if we all started raving about a man in black, if Lincoln showed that detective guy the pictures on his phone, and if we all claimed we were witnesses to the murder—it wouldn’t have been enough to keep your mom out of jail. It might’ve been enough to get Dunagan to look into it, but in the meantime, there would’ve been a pissed off psychopath out there who knew exactly what we knew. Your mom wouldn’t have been safe… and neither would you.”
Chase stops talking and shrugs, biting his lip as he gazes up at me.
I feel my jaw go slack as I process his words.
Fuck.
Fucking fucking fuck.
He’s right.
If they had backed me up, if they’d convinced Detective Dunagan to take me seriously, all we would’ve been doing is antagonizing a killer with no clear idea of how to stop him.
And if the cops hadn’t taken my mom away, if I’d managed to stop them, who’s to say the killer wouldn’t have gone after her next?
I slump back in the chair. The biology textbook is still on the seat, and it digs into my back as I slouch, but I can’t work up the energy to move it.
“How… how did you all see that when I didn’t?” I ask softly, thinking of the night they took my mom away—trying to remember exactly what I said, and exactly who was around to hear it.
Is it possible the man in black somehow found out about my rant? That he knows what we know?
Oh, fuck.
“Well, I didn’t see it.” Chase shrugs and elbows his brother. “And not to speak for Dax here, but he didn’t either. Linc’s always been good at thinking on his feet though, and he pieced it all together pretty quick. That’s why he deleted the pictures, and why he told Dunagan he didn’t know anything about the man in the mask.”
My brows pull together and I sit up again, leaning forward. “But you all backed him up. You all said the exact same thing he did.”
Their combined scents drift into my nostrils as they both mimic my movement, bringing our faces so close together we’re breathing the same air.
“Yeah, we did.” Dax rests a hand on my knee, and I feel the heat of his touch through the thin fabric of my leggings. “Because even if we didn’t know exactly why he was doing it, we trusted him.”
And I didn’t.
My mind flashes back to that night again, to me screaming at Detective Dunagan while the four boys stood impassively behind me.
Jesus. What the fuck did I do?
Chase must register the dawning horror on my face, because his hand comes up to my other knee, squeezing gently.
“Hey, it’s okay. Linc couldn’t get you to stop yelling without making it really fucking weird, but the good news is, pretty much no one was around to hear you. Most of the party guests stayed inside when all the shit went down, and they’re the ones we might’ve worried would spread rumors.”
Dax shoots me a lopsided grin. “And Detective Dunagan? Well, I’m pretty sure he just thinks you’re crazy.”
“Why didn’t you tell me all of this that night?” I whisper, but I already know the answer.
I was a fucking wreck that night. I was devastated, and more furious than I’d ever been in my life. If Lincoln—if any of the guys—had tried to tell me then that they’d refused to back me up as a way of protecting me and my mom, I would’ve ripped his head off with my bare hands.