No, I thought. He just might be the killer.
I kissed her cheek. “I just want him to take me home. I’ll go try to find him. Do you have a ride home?”
“My stepfather’s taking me.” She nodded toward one of the police cars. Right. I’d forgotten that he was a police officer.
“Be careful,” I warned before I made my way through the crowd that had gathered on the porch. The inside of the house was a mess. Empty beer bottles, broken glass, spilled alcohol, and crumbled chips littered the floor. The rug squished under my feet from all the beer that had been spilled on it. I carefully climbed the stairs, only to discover that nobody was on the second floor. I peeked into a few rooms until I found Francesca’s. Not surprisingly, the blankets were ruffled as if someone had been sleeping in them—or doing other things. Why had Devon brought her up here to make out—in front of everyone—if his plan was to kill her afterward? It was reckless. But killers didn’t always act reasonably.
Francesca’s window overlooked the backyard—now the murder scene. Police officers, paramedics, and Sheriff Rutledge were gathered around the body. Alec and Major, dressed as a civilian, hovered a few steps away. The party guests had been pushed to the edges of the yard but many of them still watched the scene like it was a crime show on TV.
The hinges groaned and I whirled around, almost losing my footing. Ryan stood in the doorway. Anxiety crawled up my spine. I shouldn’t have gone upstairs on my own.
“What are you doing here?” My voice came out hard.
“Calm down, okay? I saw you go upstairs and just wanted to check on you. What are you doing here?”
“None of your business.” I crossed the room, wanting to squeeze past him, but his arm shot out, blocking my escape.
I balled my fists. “Get out of my way.” The collar of his shirt shifted, revealing a series of small bruises on his left shoulder. He followed my gaze and red blotches blossomed on his cheeks. He pulled up his collar. “You know how hot-tempered my father gets—” He trailed off. But my eyes were no longer on his bruises. There was blood on his right hand. “I cut myself,” he said quickly and turned his hand around to show me the gash in his palm. “How did that happen?” I asked.
“Broken beer bottle. What? Do you think—” he stopped as we heard the sound of steps pounding up the stairs. He dropped his arm, making room for me to leave. I hesitated. The cut didn’t look like a bottle had done it.
“Madison?” Alec called, and it took me a moment to realize he was talking to me. I ran out of the room and found Alec halfway up the steps. “Where have you been? I was looking for you,” he said. His eyes narrowed when they landed on Ryan, lingering in the hall, his hands in his pockets.
I needed to get outside, to go somewhere I could breathe. Alec followed me but waited until we were out of earshot of the crowd before he began talking. “You have to be more careful, Tess. Being alone with Ryan isn’t the best idea.”
I paused to glower at him. “He followed me upstairs. I didn’t invite him.”
Alec ignored my snide tone. “You’re already in enough danger with Devon around, but as long as we don’t know for sure that he’s the murderer, you should avoid being alone with guys. All of them.”
I rolled my eyes. “You’re a guy.”
“Tess, I’m serious,” he said with a hint of exasperation.
“Are you done with your lecture now? This is my mission, Alec, so stop telling me to stay safe. Solving this mission is our top priority, not my safety. I can handle this myself.” And I realized it was true. I could handle this. I didn’t need Alec or anyone else. I’d played Madison for weeks now without anyone growing suspicious, I’d faced Ryan and Yates and kept them in check, and I’d figured out the fog connection. I could do this.
He opened his mouth to say something, but no words came out.
“Just drop it, okay?” I said. “I think Ryan is the killer.”
Alec frowned. “Why? What happened?”
“I just noticed a cut on his palm. It looked like it was caused by a wire. I think he cut himself when he strangled Francesca.”
“A cut. That’s all?” Alec shook his head. “What about Devon?”
“Well, I saw him walking around outside shortly before they found Francesca—”
“You saw Devon at the crime scene?”
“Not exactly. I saw him leaving the yard. But at the time he wasn’t with Francesca.”
“How can you defend him? Don’t you realize what you’re doing? You’re so desperate to prove that Devon is innocent that you’re drawing incorrect conclusions.”