As I was walking down the driveway, Sheffield came up it.

“What are you doing here?” I asked, not bothering to hide my anger at him.

“Me and the coach have to meet to coordinate efforts for the annual Halloween dance. How are you doing, Ash? After the dramatic events of last night? I was going to call you, but—”

“You mean after your little asshole friend tried and failed to murder me? And you and the rest of your little asshole friends didn’t do a damn thing to stop him?”

“Relax, sister,” Sheffield said. “Everything turned out fine, didn’t it?”

“No thanks to you. And I’m not your sister.”

“We would have stopped him.”

“You’re a liar,” I said.

Sheffield laughed. “Jeez, okay, Ash, I’m super sorry about what happened. Really. I don’t know what came over Bobby. Except that you were kind of fucking with him. It doesn’t excuse how he acted, but still . . . You’re not completely blameless here.”

“Don’t you both-sides me,” I said. “Calling someone out on their bad behavior is not the same thing as the bad behavior itself. And you can go ahead and scratch Call Ash to apologize off of your to-do list.”

“I wasn’t going to call to apologize,” he said, button nose wrinkling up in an ingratiating little smile. “I was going to call to say that if you still wanted to photograph all my little asshole friends, we’re cool with it. The whole team.”

I blinked. “Why? I pass some kind of test? Is that what last night was?”

“People were impressed, that’s all. Everybody knows Bobby’s a psycho. The way you stood up to him was pretty impressive. You know, we’re not as diabolical as you seem to think we are.”

This, I did not believe.

“Maybe I don’t want to photograph you anymore.”

“Well, whatever,” he said. “That sucks. But I get it.”

Silence. Long enough for the artist in me to start whispering.

Because, actually, last night made me more convinced there was something the team was hiding. Something solid. If I shot them, it would give me more to say about them. About who they were, and what lurked behind their handsome smiles and rugged cheekbones. The terrible things that they did. The terrifying unphotographable darkness behind their eyes.

As Cass would say, the Truth.

“I get to pick the place,” I said, after thirty solid seconds of silence. “And the time. And I get to bring people with me.”

“Well, shit, Ash, this isn’t a damn peace talk. I mean, yes, of course, all those things, but you make it sound like you’re a mobster agreeing to venture into hostile territory to negotiate a ceasefire.”

“Bye, Sheffield.”

I left him and walked back to my car. I called Connor. He didn’t answer.