“I figured it all out,” I tell them. “It wasn’t hard—you may have a lot of people covering for you, but that doesn’t change what happened. What was hard was deciding what to do about it. How to touch the untouchable. How to prosecute people above the law.”

He looks behind me toward his family—at Graham and Doug and Cheryl.

“They can’t help you,” I continue. “It’s over. I figured it out. I figured it all out. They’ve dug out the barn.” He seems to grow pale at the thought. “Where we drank your jungle juice and I lost my virginity and you killed my best friend. The barn you guys donated to Lorraine the second the lovely Covenant University staff told your father I started talking. How incredibly generous of your family to offer to renovate it for her. A convenient spot to hide a girl’s body, huh?”

“You’re fucking crazy,” he spits.

“Get her out of here—” Doug grabs my arm—hard—and when I pull away his nails dig into my skin.

“Do not fucking touch me,” I tell him, loud, determined. “What happened that night, Reed?” I ask, moving forward, pushing him toward the altar—the sacred place meant for my vows. “What was it? She didn’t want to fuck you? She kissed you and pulled you outside but when it came down to it, she didn’t want to fuck you? You felt your dick shrivel up a little, embarrassed you couldn’t get everything you wanted? So you killed her? Or did you fuck her anyway? Did you cover her mouth while she screamed for help into your disgusting face. While she—”

Behind him a new photo comes up. At first glance it’s just the party crowd again, the Gatorade of radioactive liquid, the dancers and the kids making out on a worn leather couch in the back. But there, in the corner, that’s what catches my eye. It’s Ruthie. The moment she walked out of the barn. The last time I saw her.

And she was holding Graham’s hand.

I feel like the air has been knocked out of my chest.

“It was you!”

I spin around to face my fiancé.

“What are you—”

I rack my brain for memories of that night—of Graham and Reed. Of Ruthie and me. I think back to all our interactions, to everything I knew about these two men. I was so meticulous. So thoughtful. How could I possibly have been so wrong? How could I possibly have chosen the wrong brother?