I twist my body to the left so I can face her straight on, look her in the eyes for the first time in this entire conversation. I need to see her face.

I did know why they would do that. I did know why they’d get rid of the barn. Why they’d want it far away, claimed and settled somewhere else. Someplace where it looked like it belonged all along. They needed to hide the evidence. There was no party if there was no barn. And there was no Ruthie if there was no party.

I never knew how they got rid of it so quickly.

I could run down the mountain and grab the envelope from its hiding spot. I can pack my things quickly. Call the girls from the road. I can take Sarah and Rufus’s car; I’m sure the keys are in the purse she left in the foyer with her ridiculous jacket. I can get out of here. I can kill Eliza right now.

Or I can kill Lorraine. That would keep her mouth shut and allow our plan to continue unscathed. I can bury Lorraine in the woods, create a mass graveyard and add her to where Reed probably buried Ruthie. After the party in the barn. After he took her into the woods and only one of them returned.

The night she never came home.

“They’re good people,” Lorraine says, answering her own question. “Really good people.”

She stands and looks down at me, her eyes filled with judgment, not recognition. That’s what it’s been all along. She didn’t remember my face, but she saw me for what I was. A fraud. A fake. A liar.

“Don’t marry him if you’re not a good person, too,” she says. “He deserves better.”

Before I can respond, she walks away coolly, smoothly, back toward the tent. Like trying to end her favorite child’s marriage was just a day in the life. Nothing to see here.

She didn’t even realize she’d given me answers to questions I started asking long ago.

Before I have time to stand, to figure out what to do with this new information, how to use it, two figures round the tent and start walking toward me, slow and steady, not unlike Lorraine, who just joined the crowd inside.

Molly and Jess appear in the light, their features curious but cautious.

“The slideshow is ready,” Jess says. “All the photos we took that night are loaded to play. As long as he opens his computer tomorrow when you meet with him, I’ll be able to get remote access and can get everything projected.”

“Good,” I say, feeling slightly nauseous.

“Are you sure you don’t want to see the pictures? I have the file. I can—”