“Why are you so obsessed with this? None of our friends killed Natalie. None of us. And you barely knew her.”

“It’s hard to explain,” I say. Because it is. And Morgan’s the last person I’m interested in confiding in.

Morgan’s moved on anyhow, to more troubling thoughts. She bites her lip, ruining her lipstick. “Do you think your grandmother will write a book about this, too? Like a sequel?” Her eyes lock with mine, pleading. “Could you ask her not to put me in it? I will never live it down. It’s bad enough people heard at the wake last night. It’ll get around town, I know. But a Maura Weston treatment would immortalize my worst mistake. And, oh God—Luke.”

“I don’t think she’ll write another book about the town. And even if she did, Luke’s secret is hardly sensational enough for a thriller.”

Morgan hums her disagreement. “Your grandmother would. You know I’m a big fan, but the Weston treatment is notorious. You piss off Maura Weston, or if a scandal’s juicy enough, a thinly veiled version of it appears in a book.”

“I’ll talk to my grandmother. I’m sure if I ask, she won’t write about you,” I say. But it occurs to me my grandmother can hardly write a sequel inspired by this murder if it’s not solved.

I feel that familiar itch, to get to the bottom of it, to find the answers, but I immediately tamp it down. No. Tonight is about enjoying myself. No more making a mess of things and earning enemies.

“I’m going to see where Ben is.” I rise, grabbing my clutch before I go.

But before I can reach the drinks table, I’m intercepted by the last person I want to see. Grace’s eyes are kind, her body broad, making her a human brick wall of concern. No way to go around. The only way out is through.

“Cecelia, dear, how are you?”

A second look at those eyes, and I realize with a start they’re Joe’s eyes. Like that, I’m back at the prison, pinned under his hungry stare. Grace craves something different, though. If only I knew what.

“I saw what happened last night. And Joe called me from prison. Said you were there today? This isn’t…It’s not normal, dear. This obsession.”

And there’s her brother in her again, the sour turn to her phrasing as I meet her disapproval.