Go to the police. Tell them everything and...then what? Ruin her life, ruin others’ lives, through innuendo because she had no proof of anything? No evidence, just her clouded memory. And if Taylor denied telling her the truth back then—what Candace knew to be the truth—why would anyone believe her now? And if they did believe her, what could they do about it?

Her head ached. She’d been living in a tent for the last four nights searching for answers in the middle of nowhere. She was tired and sore, and she hadn’t showered, though she’d jumped in a small freezing-cold lake yesterday because she stank.

Four full days of searching for the body...and nothing.

Maybe Taylor had lied to her. Maybe she didn’t remember correctly. Maybe Candace’s research was flawed.

But she knew what the problem was. She had some tools—a shovel, rope, lights—but she couldn’t go deep into any of the mines. It was too dangerous. She’d spent far too long trying to figure out how when she really should have spent the time figuring out what to tell the police.

Candace still didn’t know what she was going to do, but she needed to at least go back to NAU and return the truck she’d borrowed—borrowed without permission—and pack up her dorm. She couldn’t stay in the sorority, not anymore. She should have moved out long ago, but she hadn’t had the backbone until now.

Richie would let her stay with him, she was pretty certain. If she hadn’t burned that bridge along with all the other bridges she’d crossed.

When she packed up her tent and her supplies, she took one long look at the mountain she had scoured for four days. The proof was here. She just couldn’t find it.

She climbed into the truck, and as soon as she had cell-phone coverage, she took the prepaid phone she’d bought before she left Flagstaff and called Taylor. Taylor answered immediately.

“Hello?”

“Tay, it’s me. Candace.”

“Oh my God, where have you been?”

“I told you.”

Silence.

“Don’t do this,” Taylor finally said. “Please don’t.”

“I didn’t find anything. You win.”

“It’s not about winning, Candace, it’s about survival.”

“It’s about doing the right thing.”

“The police are looking for you. Everyone is. Annie reported you missing. What are you going to tell them?”

Maybe this was her chance. Her opening. And maybe, just maybe, they would listen to her, even if Taylor refused to back her up.

“Candace, tell me what you’re going to do.”

“I don’t know.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“Please, Taylor. Please understand that this is the only thing we can do.”

“This is about that little punk, Lucas Vega, isn’t it?”

“No.” Yes. “Sort of.”

“Don’t do this to me.”