Cassidy was all over social media, even though the news couldn’t report her name since she was a minor at seventeen.

Past tense was beginning to make Lia sick.

“They just want to talk with you since you knew everyone,” her mom said, fixing Lia’s hair and holding out her nice coat. She must have grabbed it before leaving the house. She must have known they wanted to talk to Lia before Cassidy’s death was even on the official news and not just Twitter. “What happened to your face?”

“Tree branch I ran past,” she said. “So that’s great.”

“Just answer their questions,” said her mom. “Don’t be smart. Don’t tell them more than they ask. I’ll be in there with you.”

As they parked, Lia shoved her bag into the back of the car. There was nothing in there to help her. If anything, her journal made her look absurd. She had stalked her classmates, and now someone was killing them. She had been one of the last to see Ben and one of the people to find him, and now she had been alone—for all she could prove—in the park where Cassidy was killed.

Abby looked even worse.

Would Gem and Devon simply blame trauma for Lia forgetting she murdered two people?

God, they all thought Lia had killed people.

The police station was crowded when they arrived. A few people lingered on the sidewalk, checking phones and pictures on big, professional cameras. A cop met them at their car and escorted them in, keeping their body between Lia and the street, and they were led through a back door. Lia swallowed, sinking into a chair as they were told to wait. Her mom sat with her.

“Is Dad coming?” Lia asked.

“No,” her mom said, “he’s looking into something else.”

They made Lia wait. It was at least thirty minutes after she sat down before a tall white man she vaguely recognized as Detective James came to greet them. He had spoken to Lia after Ben’s death.

“Mrs. Prince, Lia, thank you for waiting. Come on in here,” he said, leading them into a small conference room and shutting the door behind them. He pulled out a chair for Lia and gestured to one for her mom. He was in a wrinkled suit that might’ve been the one he had been wearing last time Lia saw him, but this time he didn’t pull at the knot of his tie. “How are you, Lia?”

“I’m okay, I think,” she said. “Thanks.”

Three dead—two times Lia had been there and one time she hadn’t.

“As you probably know, another of your classmates was found a little while ago,” he said, and set his elbows on the table. “Cassidy Clarke. Did you know her?”

“Yeah.” Lia took a breath. “She sat in front of me in a few classes, and she’s been in a few more since freshman year.”

“But you didn’t know her well?” he asked.