“You aren’t the CEO of this shit show,” Brecken snarls. “I don’t seriously want to leave her, but I’d love to know why the hell she’s hiding a knife in her seat.”

Josh shakes his head. “Wait. None of us could have had a knife—you can’t carry a knife on a plane. The knife had to have been here before we even got the car.”

“He’s right,” Harper says softly. “You can’t fly with a blade this long.” She puts the knife down in the trunk like it’s suddenly burning her fingers. She stares at it, face blanched. “Think, Harper,” she whispers, apparently to herself. “Just think.”

Brecken doesn’t miss the chance. He takes her by the shoulders and turns her to face him. “That girl has had you snowed since the beginning. She’s hiding something.”

I swallow hard. I feel sick and cold all over. “I’m not hiding anything.”

“Oh my God, come on,” Kayla says, sounding annoyed.

“What possible motive would she have?” Josh asks.

“What motive would I have?” Brecken asks. “You’ve been steering shit my way all this time but there’s only one person in this car toting a weapon, and it’s not me.”

I explode. “It’s not my seat or my knife, and we both know you’re doing this to pass your own guilt off on someone else!”

Brecken lunges forward. “You’re a little—”

Josh pushes between us. “Don’t you touch—”

“It’s my knife!”

The three of us freeze at the shock of Kayla’s voice. There’s no shame or guilt in her posture. She stands with crossed arms and her chin high as she repeats it. “It’s my knife.”

“You had a knife on the plane,” Harper says, obviously not believing her. She’s not the only one.

“No, moron,” Kayla says, rolling her eyes. “I bought it at the gas station. There was a case in the back. With the fishing shit.”

“When?” I ask. “You didn’t have any money.”

A muscle jumps in her jaw and I can tell she’s thinking something over. Finally, she sighs. “Fine, I took it.”

“Took it, as in, stole it?” Harper asks.

She lifts one slim shoulder. “The cabinet lock wasn’t latched. They were practically begging for it.”

I blink. “You stole a hunting knife. From a gas station.”

“Please. Let’s not act like you’re shocked,” she says.

“Why?” Josh asks, sounding bewildered.

“For protection,” she says, scowling. “Newsflash: I don’t know any of you.”

“And you thought we were the kind of threat that requires a big, scary knife?” I ask.

She throws up her hands like this is all stupid. “It was there. I took it. I figured I’d have it if I need it. And if not, I could give it to my dad for Christmas. He loves shit like that.”