“The game’s banned. We get suspended if we play,” Lia said. “And we would get disqualified and arrested if we pushed someone down the stairs just to win.”

“Look,” the cop said with a heavy sigh. “I know how y’all get with this game.”

“How do you know it’s not the person who killed Abby, Ben, and Cassidy?”

“You said it was a girl,” he said.

“I said they were in leggings and a jacket with a scarf over their face,” Lia said quickly. She had described every last detail she could remember, muttering them over and over to Devon so she wouldn’t forget. “I don’t know who they are.”

Detective James stepped out of an old tan Caprice and zeroed in on Lia. She winced.

Here Lia was, at the center of a mess, again.

“But I have seen this person before,” Lia said. Her sight was bleary now, but it hadn’t been when she had turned that corner. “Yesterday someone chased me through the park. This person had the same silhouette and hood and everything.”

“Okay,” the cop said. “Describe the first figure.”

Lia hadn’t been close enough to compare her height with theirs, but she knew how tall the fence was. Weight was impossible to guess. Build was better. Their face had been hidden behind a black scarf, but a few strands of hair had poked out from beneath it.

“Between five four and five ten, slender and maybe athletic, brown hair that’s at least shoulder length, a black cotton scarf, a pullover black hoodie, and solid white tennis shoes. The fancy wool kind. I don’t know the name.”

“Did anyone else happen to see them?” Detective James asked, coming to a stop right behind the cop.

“I think Devon did?” she said, but she was so unsure it came out as a question.

“I believe Mr. Diaz has already given his statement,” the detective replied, “and as I recall it, you weren’t supposed to go anywhere.”

Lia rubbed the wet neck of her shirt. “I needed to talk to Devon.”

“He is your boyfriend, right?” he asked.

Lia shrugged. She wasn’t entirely sure how she would describe him, but the detective was staring at her with his unreadable eyes.

“Stop talking.” Lia’s mom pushed around James and grabbed Lia’s arm. “I swear to God, Lia, not another word.”

“Mrs. Prince,” James said, “your—”

“Was cleared by the paramedics.” Lia’s mom tugged her toward the car, past Devon and his mom, and he raised his arms at Lia in question. “So we are leaving.”

“Wait.” Lia ripped her hand free. “I need to give Devon his shirt back.”

Her mom’s face got somehow stormier.

Lia made her way to Devon. “Bruised?” she asked.

“A little,” he said. “I told them about the messages, stairs, and whoever attacked you. I think they thought you pushed me, and I was protecting you? No offense, but I would not do that.”

“Yeah.” Lia pulled his shirt from her shoulders and handed it back to him. “If I ever do that, feel free to push me back.”