“What you guys did to Daphne—that was shitty. You deserve to rot in prison.”

I could sense her hatred boiling beneath the surface. I’d always chalked it up to some sort of teenage rebellion, a feeling of superiority she seemed to sport, but now I knew the real cause.

“That’s fair,” I said. “She didn’t deserve it.”

“You killed her.”

I flinched, turned to look into the kitchen window, to make sure Cole and Paul weren’t up searching for me. Listening.

“Don’t worry. I’m not going to tell Cole anything,” she said. The porch floorboards groaned as Ellen paced. “Although I think on some level he knows. Something anyway.”

She was right. I had to hope that if he had seen anything that night in the woods, it was long forgotten.

And would stay forgotten.

“How did you figure it out?” I asked.

“My mother told me. Wasn’t that sweet of her?” Ellen’s voice was tinged with bitterness as she shoved her hands in the pockets of her sweatshirt. “She wasn’t innocent. But I was. You made my mom leave. You took her away from me.”

That was for the best. But I bit my tongue. Jackie, after all, hadn’t been the one sending us those notes. And it made sense. Why would Jackie risk being blamed for Daphne’s death, like I’d threatened if she ever tried to come clean about what we did? She wasn’t that dense.

“And what price did you pay for any of it?” Ellen continued. “You got to live your life, be successful. Throw parties.”

In one way, she was right. In another, very, very wrong. I paid the price every day. The nightmares. The guilt. Throwing myself full force into every project to stay busy. To keep the thoughts from creeping in.

Not that that was any excuse.

“I’m sorry. I truly am. I never meant to hurt her, certainly not to...push her. It was an accident.”

Ellen considered that.

“So, are you still going to talk to Maggie Lewis?” I asked. “You were her source, weren’t you?”

Ellen stopped. Faced me. Her features shifted. I recognized the expression—the same one I’m sure I displayed whenever I thought about Maggie Lewis.

“She’s a moron. She thought she was talking to my mother. As if my mother would possibly be this crafty?” Ellen stepped back. The dark porch nearly swallowed her up. “No. I realized—tonight—well, let’s just say I realized how easy it is to do something you’ll regret forever.”

“Lily’s fine,” I said.

“Yeah.” Her voice caught for a second, but then it came back strong. She stuck her chin up. “But also, sometimes it’s good to keep a secret. You never know when you might need to wield it, right?”

Ah, this girl was going places. God help anyone who stood in her way.

Seven Months Later