Cole points to the logo in the top corner. Alton Towers, it says, and there’s a picture of a building. “Okay,” I say again. But I still don’t know what this is.

“It’s in New York City,” he tells me. “I looked it up.” Then he points to something scrawled at the bottom. “That’s my dad’s signature.”

And then I see a name in the middle of the paper. Printed in neat letters.

Nicole Kendrick

The rest of it is faint and hard to read.

“What is this?” I ask him.

“It’s proof you were right.”

“I don’t understand.”

“It’s a lease agreement,” Cole says. “My dad put down money for an apartment. For your mom. And for you, I guess.”

It’s dated just a few days before she died.

“Cole—”

“I think he was trying to buy her off. I think he wanted to set her up in the city, maybe. Away from Whisper Cove. To keep my mom from finding out.” He stops and stares at that scribbled signature. “So the shit wouldn’t hit the fan.” He swallows and shakes his head. “So he wouldn’t lose fucking everything.”

“My mother wanted it all out in the open. I remember hearing her say that.” Angry words on the sea porch. Me under the picnic table with my hands over my ears. “I think she was sick of keeping secrets.”

“I wanted it to be George. It seemed to make sense, you know?” Cole looks so tired. “But if all that’s true,” he says, “then my dad must have been scared shitless.” He’s staring at me with those fog-gray eyes. “And that’s more than enough motive for . . .” His voice trails off. And he can’t make himself finish that thought.

But I can.

“It’s more than enough motive for murder.”

We look at each other for a few long seconds before we say good night. Because there’s nothing else to say. At least not at the moment. We both need some time to digest what Cole just told me.

He kisses me before he goes next door, though. Swears to me that we’ll figure it out. Together. And when he murmurs that promise against my lips, I wish I could swallow it like medicine.

I pull myself up off the steps and start to head inside. I can hear the other girls talking and laughing. And suddenly I’m longing for my paper-thin bunk bed mattress. My slightly damp sheets. The idea of being with Val and the others—inside the warm, brightly lit cabin—sounds so appealing. It’s a thousand times better than being out here. In the fog. Alone.

Or worse. Not alone.

But then the scent of lavender drifts into my nose.

The quiet crunch of careful feet on gravel.

I freeze. But those other feet keep moving. A step closer. Now one more.