Morgan considers us. “You got here fast.”

“We were across the street,” I say. “Good timing. What did you need to talk about in person?”

She cranes her neck, assessing the nearest tables for familiar families, turns back to us, looking to Ben with a frown. Shit.

“I can leave,” Ben offers, sliding a few inches to the right.

“You being here might be perfect, actually,” she says. “You work for Maura, right?”

“Yes?” Ben has a deer-in-the-headlights kind of look. “I’m her intern, technically. Gives me an excuse to hang around, learn the ropes.”

“But you’ve read the books.” Morgan is insistent.

“Of course.”

I jump in, breathless. “You think it’s a copycat.”

“Yes!” Morgan’s eyes shine with tears. “My mom keeps trying to calm me down, but she doesn’t understand. Amber told me how you found her. She wasn’t supposed to, but I made her.”

“They haven’t released the details publicly, but people are going to catch on. We saw the sheriff at Hotel Seaview, interviewing people at WestonCon. It’s pretty obvious.”

I hesitate. Should we tell her about Chris?

Morgan shakes her head. “No, you don’t understand. They think they’re simply solving a murder and won’t listen to me. I spoke to Sheriff Morrow this morning. He dismissed me as some silly kid.”

“Why?” I ask, at the same time Ben says, “You did? About what?” Morgan checks all around her again, beckoning us in closer. We both come down as tight as the table will allow. Morgan drops her voice nearly to a whisper.

“Natalie wasn’t supposed to die. It was me. They were trying to kill me.”

Morgan’s confession is a physical thing, exploding like a bomb that pushes and carves out its surroundings. I spring back so fast my head hits the seat cushion behind me. Ben knocks my water glass over with his arm. Silverware clatters to the floor.

“You don’t believe me?” Morgan’s lower lip wobbles.

I’m torn between frantically grabbing for napkins to dry my now-soaked lap and reassuring her. “No, it’s not that. It’s just…” I give up on triaging the damp spot. “It’s a shock. Right, Ben?”

But he scoffs at the idea. “That’s absurd. You think someone accidentally drowned the entirely wrong person? How?”

“It’s not absurd,” I say, irritated I didn’t consider the idea first. “When I found Natalie, I…I thought it was you.” Morgan flushes. I continue making my case to Ben. “Think about it. Morgan and Natalie were dressed a lot alike. If it was a fan trying to act out some fucked-up fanfic, it would have been easy to mix them up. They only saw the homecoming court from the stands.”

Morgan is nodding along like she’s hypnotized.

“You told the sheriff you think you were the intended victim?” Ben asks, not yet convinced.