This again.

“Will you guys tell me why it’s so unreasonable to believe Morgan? It’s a compelling theory. She looked identical to Natalie. The killer could’ve meant to target her instead.”

“Sure.” Amber scoffs.

“Amber!” Bronte scolds, but softens as she looks my way. “I know it’s probably the last place you want to go right now, but Amber and I were going to walk back to the school to get my stuff. I had to leave everything in the locker room after they cordoned off the place last night. You want to come? We can chat on the way.”

The scene of the crime. One side of me worries about reliving the horror of last night. How was Natalie killed only last night? But a sick, twisted part of me is elated to investigate.

“Yes,” I answer, too quickly.

“How’s he been?” Bronte asks Amber, both a step ahead of me and at a volume begging privacy. But I can’t help but overhear.

“He’s stressed as fuck, guzzling coffee because he’s smart enough to know now is not the time to be drinking. Though I’m sure tonight will be fun.”

“You won’t be there to take care of him, though. You’re staying with me. It’s decided. Screw his weekend.”

Guess I didn’t imagine the smell of booze on the sheriff. Amber snorts, but the way she holds on to Bronte’s hand tells me she’s appreciative. I feel a pang of jealousy, instantly wishing I had someone to confide in like that. Gabriel’s face appears in my mind, but I shake it away quickly, guiltily. Ben. I like Ben. One dumb kiss has me rattled. That’s all it is.

Amber seems to remember I’m behind them, left out of the conversation. She waits a step.

“Here’s the deal with Natalie,” she says without preamble. “Everyone has a Natalie story. She was divisive. Even among her friends.”

Bronte coughs, glances sidelong at her girlfriend as though she’s saying too much, but Amber doesn’t cede.

“Come on, Bron, you know I only put up with her because I love you. She was shitty to me for years, and that’s in spite of our dads being friends. She told everyone I was a raging lesbian in seventh grade, made me a social pariah.”

Bronte opens her mouth as though to speak, but Amber barrels on.

“So I was a raging lesbian, but that’s not the point. Natalie weaponized shit against people all the time. Morgan can be extra, but she’s harmless. Someone killed Natalie because they had a reason to. It’s obvious.”

I’m not ready to completely disregard the Morgan mistaken-identity theory, but Amber makes a compelling point. Natalie’s own friends think someone did her in on purpose. That can’t be ignored.