“The last time?”

“Yeah. A few weeks ago, they found this stuff all over the side of Sidra’s car.”

“I don’t understand,” I whispered, shaking my head, thinking of the knife in the photo last night and now this. I felt a wave of nausea rising from the pit of my stomach. If Sidra really had done this herself, then she truly was one messed-up girl.

“It is kind of hard to explain,” Angelina said softly. “Things like this—they have been going on for months. Stupid vandalism, usually targeted at Sidra.”

“Like what?” I asked, pretending I hadn’t already heard part of this story before from Sidra herself.

“Dead roses at her door. Fake blood on her car. Torn up clothes. Angry notes.”

“Do you have any idea who’s doing it?”

I walked over to the window sill and leaned forward, smelling the oozing substance that dripped from the wood. Nick was right; it smelled like syrup.

“No,” Angelina said, shaking her head. “Sidra thinks maybe Derek is doing it. Derek swears Sidra is doing it.”

“Who do you think is doing it?” I asked, looking at them both. But neither would reply. Nick only shrugged while Angelina stared at the ground.

I turned and leaned closer to the window, looking through the half-drawn shade at Sidra’s room inside. It was perfectly neat, the bed made, the lights off. Right now, Sidra and Carlos were obviously still in the main house with Marion and Derek. Looking into the cabana, I shivered, thinking that if it wasn’t Sidra herself, then whoever had done this must’ve come in the night while she was inside this very room, sleeping.

“Sidra’s in danger,” I said simply. “Call it ‘vandalism’ or whatever you want; this kind of wacky behavior can only escalate from here.”

“And we should tell her about this, right? Tell all of them?” Nick asked. Angelina rolled her eyes, but also looked to me for the decision.

“Wait until you can get Derek or Sidra alone,” I said. “They both have to know. But you’re right. Carlos really doesn’t need this right now.”

I sat in my car for a long time, thinking about the fake blood on the windowsills. It had been a terrifying sight, more frightening still because it was so odd. Food coloring in Karo syrup, painted on the windows like blood? Why would someone want to do that? I was still in my car when I saw Derek and Sidra emerge from the house with Nick. He led them around to the back of the cabana, and a moment later I could hear Sidra’s muffled scream. I assumed Angelina and Marion were distracting Carlos in the house.

I started my car and pulled out, turning right from the driveway and then right again on the first road. It ran alongside the Smythes’ estate, and I followed it almost to the end where a low wire fence marked the back boundary of the Smythes’ property. I parked my car and got out, examining the shoulder of the road for tire marks where Alan Bennet might have parked his car among the trees the night before. There weren’t any telltale tracks, but as I headed for the barn I could see where he had crossed over the fence. There was a patch of tall grass bent down from footsteps, a bend in the wire where almost any full-sized adult could have easily climbed over. I did so now, making my way across the grassy field to the barn.