“Because,” Aaron said, “she told me a very different story about what happened that night, the night that ruined my life.”

CHAPTER SEVENTY-THREE

Blake’s posture stiffened. He moved his head up, pushing against the gun Aaron still held in place. Blake suddenly seemed injected with more energy than he’d displayed at any time since I’d been in the basement with them.

“You killed her,” Blake said.

“Don’t change the subject,” Aaron said.

“No,” Blake said. “You killed her. You just said you knew where she lived. You wanted to hurt me, so you hurt her. And then you went over to Ryan’s house and threatened his family. That’s why you won’t let that go. That’s why you say you’re going to hurt Amanda and Henry if you leave here.”

“Don’t be simple,” Aaron said.

“Hold it,” I said.

They both looked at me as my voice bounced off the walls, silencing their bickering. They’d been acting like I wasn’t there, like they were deeply engaged in their own private spat.

“What do you mean, Jennifer told you a different story about that night than Blake told you?” I asked. “Jennifer wasn’t there. We didn’t even know her in college. She didn’t know what happened that night.”

Aaron looked at me like I was simple. He shook his head. “Somebody in this room told Jennifer all about that night.”

My eyes went to Blake, and our gazes locked on each other for a moment. I wasn’t sure what I saw there—shame? fear? anger?—but he quickly looked away. And he remained quiet, as though ceding the floor to Aaron.

So I looked over at him. “I still don’t know what you’re talking about, Aaron,” I said. “You’ve been saying a lot of things, but none of them make any sense.”