Kyle clawed at Matt’s forearm, trying to wedge his fingers in, relieve the pressure, allow himself to breathe. He looked Matt in the eyes and shook his head.

Matt felt hot tears on his cheeks. He told himself to calm down, get ahold of his emotions. If he pressed any harder, he’d crush Kyle’s windpipe. But why shouldn’t he?

Kyle’s eyes were wet too, his hands still tugging at Matt’s arm. He tried to speak, his voice little more than a rasp.

And then Kyle did something unexpected.

He gave up.

Kyle’s arms fell to his sides, any fight in him gone. As if he were awaiting—welcoming—Matt to snap his esophagus.

Just a little more pressure, and Kyle would get what he wanted. But if he died, so many answers would die with him. Matt yanked his arm away.

Kyle raised his hands to his neck, then bent over, coughing. A sickening barking cough. He finally stood, his back still against the refrigerator door, and he slid to the floor.

For a moment Matt thought he’d exerted too much force and that Kyle’s windpipe was destroyed. That Kyle was dying. But sitting amid the broken dishes and leftover food on the floor, Kyle started weeping.

It seemed like a long time, but it probably lasted only a few seconds. Matt still had an electrical charge tearing through him. He waited for Kyle to say something, but Kyle just sat there, his whole body trembling.

Matt recognized broken when he saw it.

“It was an accident,” Kyle said at last.

“Liar,” Matt said it calmly, but his voice was full of menace. “You killed her, then you wheeled her to the creek and framed my brother.”

Kyle took a deep, juddering breath. Not saying anything, but he was shaking his head violently.

“It’s over,” Matt said. “The video. At the party. Danny was wearing only a tank top. You were wearing his jacket. It was you I saw that night. And you saw me, and all these years you let me think—”

“It was an accident,” Kyle said again. “After everyone cleared out, she stayed behind. She was angry, and she said things that weren’t true, and when I told her to get out of my house, she came at me, and I just pushed her away, and she fell and bumped her head. It was an accident.” He was gulping for air.

Matt felt a slash of rage again. For a riotous moment he considered shoving Kyle’s face to the floor, smashing it into the broken shards.

“What did Danny—or my family—ever do to you?”

“We weren’t trying to hurt Danny. We tried to make it look like the Smasher.”

It explained why Charlotte’s head was caved in, the differences from the Smasher slayings Matt’s dad was always talking about.