Take the Fall(43)

Marcus pounds his fist on his knee. “That f*cking idiot. I knew—”

“But he wasn’t the one who took it.”

“Did he tell you that? It makes perfect sense to me.”

I shake my head. “Not when you think about it. The composition is bad. It’s grainy and dark. Kip’s a good photographer. I don’t think he could take a picture like that if he tried.”

“Then why would he post it? Why would he even have it?”

“He said someone took his camera at the party.”

Marcus rolls his eyes. “Let me see it. I want to look at those scratches again.”

“I don’t have it with me.”

He straightens. “I hope that’s because you took it to the sheriff.”

“No . . . but it’s in a safe place.” I reach for my latte and find what’s left of it cold. “I don’t want to show him unless I have to.”

“You’re serious? Two minutes ago, you think you might be next on the murderer’s list, but now you’re telling me you don’t want Sheriff Wood to know?”

I flinch. There’s no way I can explain this so it will make sense to him. But if I show the photo to Sheriff Wood, I lose what little control I have. He’ll take it from me and tell me nothing about the investigation, just like he’s doing now. I might have to turn in Gretchen’s SD card on top of that, which I’m not ready to do. I’m guessing Marcus and everyone else featured on it aren’t ready either.

“It’s complicated—he and my mom are close. But yeah, that’s what I’m saying.”

He sits back in his chair. “What’s complicated about telling people you’re being threatened?”

“I don’t even know if it is a threat, or a prank, or . . . something else.” I steel myself as I say this, maybe because I need to believe it. “If someone wanted to scare me, don’t you think they would’ve been more explicit? Written on it in blood or something?”

“Is that what it would take to scare some sense into you?” His voice rises.

“What would it take to make you consider you’re overreacting?”

His jaw is hard, but he doesn’t say anything.

I cross my arms over my chest, trying not to let on how scared I really am. “I’ll show it to the sheriff if I get worried, but so far nothing else has happened.”

“I see you’ve kept my name on your list.” His eyes are flat.

I shift uncomfortably. “Guilty until proven innocent.” I study the rest of the names without looking up. “The only other people who overlap are Reva, Tyrone, and Kirsten.”

Marcus fiddles with the spoon in his mug. “I only included Kirsten because they fought. I’m not sure she could’ve done it.”

“I heard she stayed to hook up with some freshman at the party.” I feel guilty bringing this up, but there’ve been too many rumors.

He presses his lips together. “A couple people thought she left, but yeah, I heard mostly the same thing.”

“You don’t sound very sure of that.”

He shrugs. “The kid she was with was pretty convincing.”

I curl my lip, making a note to ask Kirsten about it myself.

“So that leaves Reva, Tyrone, and your ‘person unknown,’” Marcus says.

“Reva hated Gretchen more than any—”

“But she was working that night.”

I hesitate. “Are you sure?”

“She says she was cleaning First Union Bank with her mom. I haven’t verified it yet.”

I exhale, getting frustrated. I’d been counting on Reva as a possibility to contend with Kip. “Well, it would’ve been hard for Tyrone to get inside my locker.”

Marcus frowns. “But not so hard to attack you and murder Gretchen.”

“I thought you were sure the killer was behind the photo.”

“It would make sense.” He steeples his fingers, touching them to his lips. “But I can’t really be sure, no.”

I flip the page of his sketchbook, trying not to feel overwhelmed, but as soon as I do, my thoughts derail completely. There’s a girl I recognize on the next page. Or rather, a character. She wears a cropped hoodie, cargo pants, and black boots. Her pink hair is in pigtails, there’s a crossbow over her shoulder and a smirk on her lips.

“You play UltaShock?”

He hesitates, scratches his head, and takes the sketchbook out of my hands. “Not so much lately, but I like it. I’m just not very good.”

I raise my eyebrows. “Summer Wentworth is my favorite character . . . you captured her perfectly.”

Gretchen loved to make fun of Summer’s hair or outfit, saying she lacked sex appeal. I’d never really paid attention to it. You can’t win the game without this girl. Everyone underestimates her and she knows it. She never goes in guns blazing, but her crossbow takedowns are works of art.

Marcus closes the cover and I watch her coy expression disappear between the pages. “Thanks. I’m better at drawing her than playing her, I guess.”

“Badass drawing either way,” I say.

When he looks up, his face is a deep shade of red.

Silence hangs awkwardly between us and I reopen my own notebook to get back on task. “How about we work on your timeline. Maybe it’ll help to write out where people were the night Gretchen died and when.”