“Between the toes. Like a drug addict. It’s harder to find.” He seems so proud of himself. So clever. Like trading murder facts with me is some kind of foreplay.

I can’t do this anymore. Can’t pretend. I pull my hands away, eyes darting wildly to the door. Sour adrenaline spreads through my limbs, like I’m a trapped animal seconds from slaughter.

Ben’s eyes turn to flint. “It bothers you.”

“No fucking shit,” I bite. “You murdered someone. Like, you planned it. Elaborately. The whole copycat thing, right down to the original police report? That’s cold-blooded.”

“In my defense, no one knows about that. Except for my grandfather, me, and now you. It was a good tip. A way to get it done more quickly, without arm strain. You know, it actually takes about six minutes to strangle someone. Not three. The copycat thing was just a bit of fun.”

“Murder shouldn’t be fun.”

“And yet you’ve had a real ball investigating. Don’t think I missed how it brought light to your eyes. Purpose to your life.”

“It’s not the same,” I say. Dear God, I hope it’s not the same.

Ben sneers. “I thought you’d understand, but you don’t. Your mom wasn’t murdered.”

“Neither was yours,” I can’t help shouting, incredulous. “Your mother died in a tragic accident!”

“That could have been prevented if Mayor Bergen had done his job! Instead, he wasted years on fucking rock walls. All to keep his numbers up. To get reelected.”

“So, what—that gives you the right to murder his daughter in revenge?”

Ben nods, as if pleased that I finally get it. “True poetic justice would have been him going down for it, but I could have never predicted he was off committing statutory rape. Or hoping to. Ignored my texts in favor of his hard-on.”

“So what was your backup plan?”

“You helped with that.” He grins like a demented jack-o’-lantern. “Grace was a stroke of genius, by the way. But Gabriel became the perfect patsy. A bonus to drive a wedge between you. I can take a little competition.”

“Was anything about you real?” My voice breaks on the last word. I was played for a fool, thinking this boy before me was my new hope, an anchor. Instead, he’s a sick, twisted parody.

“Of course. I really like you.” He says it so convincingly. Earnestly. Ben believes every word out of his mouth. “Everything I did was to keep you safe. Keep you away from the truth, so we could have a future. You’re smart, tenacious, hot. You really do look incredible in that dress. And now I know how good you are in bed….”

My stomach churns with disgust, but I swallow past the sick lump rising in my throat. “You’re the one who texted me to get me down to the pool, then. Why?”