Dorian wondered if she was trying to change the subject. Why would he want to hear gossip about some other girl with the same name? “Um, no. What about her?”

“Lucette Korchak? She committed suicide like a year ago. Early April. She threw herself off a cliff by the sea.” Zoe was staring at him, and Dorian could feel something in his face starting to unfold, to blossom with realization. “Or some people up there think her uncle murdered her. He’s this total drunk-ass creep, and there were rumors like maybe he was beating on her or something. They found her clothes scattered at the top of the cliff, but . . . they never found the body . . .”

Dorian reeled back against the bed’s footboard. “Last April?” A whole year ago, now, even a little more. It had to be her. And he’d been living in Chicago with Emily and his parents then, not imagining anything crazier in his future than becoming a big-deal comic book artist. Definitely not suspecting how soon his little sister would die . . .

Zoe watched the emotions tearing through his face. “You really hadn’t heard of her, had you? You’re totally surprised.”

“So?”

“So you weren’t just using her name, to make me think . . . And that means, maybe . . .” Zoe seemed almost frantic now.

“Where did you hear about this?”

“My friend Bethany’s mom is seeing this math teacher from Pittley. Mr. Carroll. And I was over for dinner at Bethany’s house, and Mr. Carroll started tripping out about that Lucette girl and how guilty he felt, like he knew she was having a shitty time and there were these sick rumors and he should have done more to help her. Me and Bethany kept getting more and more weirded out. But maybe—”

“Lucette Korchak didn’t die!” Dorian shook his head. It was too bad they couldn’t tell this Mr. Carroll the truth, though maybe the truth was still terrible enough that it wouldn’t make him feel any better. Luce had lived, but she had also killed, and she was still lost in a cold sea. “Her uncle didn’t murder her, but the part about him beating her is true. And then he tried to rape her . . .” Zoe flinched, hard.

“She told you this?” Zoe’s voice buckled.

“Yeah. She told me the whole thing. How she changed . . .” Zoe’s expression had altered completely since the start of the conversation. It was wounded and open, shining with a kind of surrender. Dorian knew that she believed him completely. “God. Dorian . . . Where is she now? Luce?”

“I don’t know.” Saying it made Dorian feel a little sick. How long could he go on insisting that Luce was still his girlfriend? She’d proved before that she would take insane risks and that she didn’t care enough about being with him to keep herself safe.

“You mean . . . How can you not know?”