Strangers on the internet are no match for an actual history buff in Seaview proper, and I know it—which means if I really want to get anywhere, I have to betray Ben. I know he said not to trust anyone from Natalie’s blackmail files and he has his own theories about Gabriel, but he’s the first person who comes to mind. No one is more obsessed with the history of this town than he is. Ben may have him cornered on the murder market, but this side investigation needs to be my secret until I know more.

A car comes up behind me, honking. I check that I’m on the sidewalk, not in anyone’s way. I’m good, which can only mean…Ben. I turn to greet my beat-up Toyota chariot, but it’s a sleek silver Mercedes idling at the curb, window rolled down, Luke behind the wheel.

“Get in,” he says as the locks give a soft clunk. Luke is smiling, in that sure, winning way of his, but his eyes hold a test.

“No, it’s okay, We’re nearly to school.” I’m breathy, high-pitched, unable to keep the nervousness from my too-sunny protestation.

“I insist.”

This is do-I-suspect-you-of-murder chicken. I won’t be the first to flinch.

“Thanks,” I say, pitching down into the passenger seat. It’s almost unsettling how low it is to the ground. Whoever rode shotgun last was shorter than I am; I have to locate the button to the right side to make myself more legroom.

“You usually get a ride to school with that woman, don’t you? The walking L.L.Bean catalog with the vape.”

“Suzanne,” I say tightly.

“Right.” Luke eases the car forward. He drums his fingers over the steering wheel to some phantom rhythm. A song only he knows. “I heard about her accident. That sucks.”

“Word travels fast in this town.”

Luke snorts. “Yeah. Except when it travels real slow.”

The sound of tires cruising over asphalt fills the car. I start a silent countdown. Thirty seconds to the school parking lot. Twenty.

“She the one you called the other night, on my phone?” There’s an accusation under his innocuous question.

“Yeah.” The hairs on the back of my neck have gone electric. The call log. I never actually dialed out on Luke’s phone. He must have checked.

The car rolls to a stop. We’re at the end of the student parking lot, far from the drop-off line and most foot traffic.

“Well, luckily, Gabriel was there to drive you home. So it worked out,” Luke says, turning off the ignition. “Did you tell Ben?”

I can’t stop the laugh that rips from my throat. Was all of this Luke bro-coding for Ben?

“Of course he knows,” I say, pushing mild offense into it. Then I’m all wide-eyed innocence. “Don’t you tell Morgan everything?”