A plan forms in my mind. Plate of brownies in hand, I slip out onto the front porch, looking for Luke and Morgan. I find them on the porch swing, Morgan hiccuping the last of a crying fit.

“Time for another?”

And it’s that simple. Luke and Morgan each grab a brownie and follow me back inside, where a green-looking Amber is on the couch.

“Malibu and Coke is the devil,” she croaks.

I nod as though I understand. “Hey, can I use your phone to call my grandma?” I ask Luke, already holding out the phone to him. “Mine is dead.”

It seems more plausible than grabbing his phone and pretending to take a selfie.

“Uh, sure.” He unlocks it and hands it to me. I make a show of going to the dial screen and punching in numbers. And then I pretend to dial. Hold the phone to my ear and walk out into the yard for some privacy. The music from the wedding works well to muffle any noise.

Charade over, I tap to the home screen, not even sure what I’m looking for. I start with the photo roll. And there’s Natalie. A selfie of her and Luke from last night. Natalie the way I’d prefer to remember her, striking in seafoam, Luke mugging beside her. The way the camera is angled, Morgan is visible in the background, scowling.

I go back to the home screen, try Luke’s messages. Maybe his halftime hookup texted a meeting place. Or a thank-you—if he’s as good as he says he is.

There are no messages from any strange girls close to the top, only the group text Bronte mentioned, and individual threads with Morgan, one with Caleb. And fourth from the top, a chain with a dead girl.

Natalie.

I tap, sucking in a breath. My eyes rake over the iMessage chain, her name at the top, and in the texts as well.

Luke: Fuck you Natalie

Natalie: You’re just mad I’m smarter than you

Luke: Not that smart. I know one of your secrets too. You burn me, I burn you.

Natalie: You wouldn’t dare.

Luke:

Natalie:

Luke: I’m not kidding, Nat. Cross me and I’ll fucking kill you.

“You all set?”

I jump with an undignified shriek.

“Luke, you scared me!”

He’s at the edge of the porch, watching me.

“Thanks, I’m finished,” I say, covering for the fact I very obviously was not on the phone just now. Hastily, I press the home button, hand Luke the phone, and follow him inside. I slip back onto the couch, mind reeling with Luke’s last words to Natalie. He said he’d kill her.

He said he’d kill her the night she died.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN