Lindsay grabbed Hope’s arm. “Oh my god. Your lemonade.” She shifted her gaze to the Hatchers. “She makes the best lemonade anyone has ever had in their lives, but she had no idea where she learned how to make it.”

“TC used to talk about how much she hated pumping those lemons. All the horny little boys used to watch from the mall benches because of all of the bouncing up and down.”

“So you and I were friends?” Hope asked, her eyes bright with curiosity. In all the years they had known each other, Lindsay had never seen Hope this trusting around strangers.

Jess Hatcher shook his head. “No. I only met you once. TC told me you had a house for us to party at for the night. We met you there. You were with a guy. I had the impression he was your boyfriend—not casual like me and TC, but actually tight. It was a big, fancy house, and you knew how to get in because you were their babysitter. The family was gone for the weekend. I pretty much assumed we didn’t have permission to be there, but it seemed harmless enough.”

Lindsay wanted to ask whose house it was, but allowed him to continue uninterrupted. For the next twenty minutes, he spoke as if no one else was in the room. Lindsay could picture every moment of the night. She imagined this young woman TC, full of the kind of effortless but frenetic energy that would have pulled a young Hope—a young Tara King—into her orbit. Come on, she’d probably said, it’ll be fun. You and me. Just a little taste. The boys—not boys, because they were all adults by then—two men of that age, alone in a house with their girls, would have had plans for them that didn’t include tripping on hallucinogens.

Jess’s voice rose as he described Alex coming out of the master bedroom. “It seemed like a switch had flipped. He seemed so chill when we first got there. I read him as a bit of a pushover, actually, but after you guys disappeared into one of the bedrooms, we heard this male voice yelling. I thought maybe he was pissed that you were tripping, so I went to check on you. He stormed out of the room, ranting and raving like a lunatic—just screaming and cussing. Breaking vases. Pulling picture frames off the shelves. Punching the walls. Absolutely crazy. Then you came walking out and were completely out of it. I was trying to get the guy to calm down, but it was like he didn’t even know I was there. Then you wandered out the front door, and he went after you. When I saw a car pull into the driveway, I was out of there and dragged TC with me. I found out the next day about the shooting.”