Maggie’s coming. Be careful what you say.

But I was already fucked.

“Here they are,” Maggie said, all satisfied. Behind her, a cameraman was filming, his instrument bulky on his shoulder. “Just like I told you.”

And Georgeann Wilkins. Adam Wallace. Cole and Paul, looking worried. In the back, Pia, furiously typing on her cell phone, Bettina with her husband, Joe, and Horace Bennington, her lawyer friend.

“What is this all about?” I asked.

“Why don’t you tell us, Kendra?” Maggie smiled triumphantly. I wanted to slap that smile right off her face. “Trespassing at the bridge?” She paused, then added dramatically, “Again?”

“What’s going on, Mom?” Cole’s eyes flicked from me to Theresa and back again.

“Nothing. Lily almost fell,” I said, projecting authority. “But she’s fine. We’re all fine. We were just coming back to the party.”

“Almost fell? We just saw her.” Adam’s concern was evident. “My god, Theresa. What happened?”

I realized we must’ve looked like we’d had a wrestling match up there. Theresa’s dress was torn and dirty. Her hair had bits of leaves in it.

“You saw her? Was she okay?” she asked.

“She was going home,” Adam said. “She seemed fine. Just in a hurry.”

“I hate this place,” said Cole, looking around. “I got lost here when I was a kid.”

Yes, he had. He’d wandered off, following Daphne and Ellen that night. Just a little boy. My little boy. I’d found him, cold and shivering, curled in a ball by a tree, after everything. How much did he remember? I remembered it all. The night terrors, when he couldn’t wake up, when he’d sit howling in my arms for what felt like hours before I could pull him back. I’d assumed over the years he’d forgotten about it, but maybe kernels of memory remained.

“This is the finale of my story.” Maggie waved her wand around as if casting a spell. “And all these people want to know the truth. About what happened to Daphne Brown thirteen years ago.” She grinned evilly. “Do you want to tell them?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I said.

“Not you, Kendra.” Maggie pointed with her wand. “Theresa.”

Theresa’s face was shadowed. I couldn’t see her expression. She was very still, rooted to the ground. A broken owl that couldn’t take flight.

Maggie held up her cell phone. “She sent me a message. She knows what you are now, too. And soon everyone else will.”

Silence. I felt like dripping wax, melting into the ground. The Wicked Witch. Theresa knew everything. Theresa—the actual babysitter Jackie wanted to teach a lesson to—was going to be the one to expose me for killing the innocent babysitter.

That’s karma for you.