Sam gave her a withering look. “What do you think? We’ve spent about thirty-six hours desperately trying to figure out what happened to you the other night. It’s safe to say, not much is private anymore.”

“I suppose I deserve that.”

“So who is he?”

“A friend of Hoda’s. His dad is a lawyer.”

“What’s Davey’s last name?”

“Ekland. He goes to Wilson too.”

“That helps, honey.” After writing down the name, Sam took hold of Brooke’s hand. “There’s something else I have to tell you, and it’s going to be super upsetting.”

“More upsetting than hearing the guy I really liked shared me with his friends and then they were all murdered?”

“Possibly.”

“I don’t know if I can take any more.”

“I know this is so awful for you, and everything got way out of control, but I’d rather you hear it from me than from someone else.”

Brooke blew out a deep breath and seemed to brace herself. “Okay.”

“When the guys took turns with you, someone videotaped it and took pictures. They posted the pictures and videos online.”

Brooke’s mouth fell open and then snapped shut as new tears slid down her face. She shook her head.

“We tracked down the source and arrested a boy named Brody Mitchell. Do you know him?”

“He was in my class at Wilson. He posted that shit?”

“Apparently, he’s the brainchild behind the WilsonSeniors accounts. It’s all been taken down, and he’s in custody.”

“But everyone probably saw it already, right?”

“I don’t know about everyone... But it was online for more than twenty-four hours before we were able to isolate the source.”

“God. Oh my God. So the whole world saw me naked and getting raped by four different guys? Oh my God!”

“Technically, three, because the sex with Todd was consensual. I know this is horrifying for you to hear, and it was horrifying for us to realize it had happened to you.”

“It’s all my fault,” she said, weeping bitterly. “If I hadn’t left school, this never would’ve happened.”

“That part is true, but the rape is not your fault. You were drugged and unable to say no. Those boys took advantage of you, and that was not your fault. I want you to hear me on that, Brooke. No matter what you did or said or took or drank, it was not your fault that they raped you.”

She looked so young and fragile sitting in the big hospital bed with tears streaming from eyes gone raw from crying. “It was my fault that I was there in the first place. What will people say about me? They’ll call me a slut and say I wanted it.”