Take the Fall(88)

Marcus steps forward, but I pull on his arm as Kip’s words spiral through my head. I think of Kirsten being left behind after the fight at the party, then showing up at home a couple of hours later.

“Did anyone actually see Kirsten with that freshman she supposedly hooked up with?”

They both look at me, confused. But she’s so much like Gretchen. I let go of Marcus and grab Kip’s hand, my heart pounding in my ears because I don’t have enough time to think about this, and I’m scared because it makes too much sense.

“You said she’s a lot like Gretchen,” I say quickly.

He nods.

“Okay.” I squeeze his hand. “And Marcus just pointed out she’d look even more like her if she dyed her hair red again.”

“I guess, but—”

“This is important, Kip. You told the sheriff you saw Gretchen sitting at the top of the falls the night she died, but are you sure it was her?”

Kip blinks at me, perplexed, but I can tell there’s something going on behind his eyes.

“Kirsten’s hair was red that night.” I wet my lips. “Could it have been her?”

Seconds pass like eternity before Kip opens his mouth again.

“I guess it could have been.”

“It could have, or it was?” I ask.

Kip slumps to the floor, resting his chin in his hands. “I didn’t want to tell the sheriff how high I was that night. I was walking my bike home because I crashed and got a flat. I don’t know . . . it could have been either Gretchen or Kirsten.”





FORTY


MARCUS AND I PUSH OUT the side exit together, the dance beat muffled as the door clicks shut behind us. We find ourselves on the far end of the parking lot by the line of trees separating the school from the athletic fields. The air is cool and there isn’t a lot of light here, but the stars are enough for me to see the conflict on his face.

“What does that mean, what he just said?”

“I . . . I’m not sure.”

“Did Kip Peterson just tell us Kirsten killed Gretchen?”

My heart pounds so hard I can barely think. Is there any other way to interpret that?

“Marcus . . .”

“Sonia, this is important. It needs to make sense.”

He holds my gaze, and I know he’s right. This isn’t about postcards anymore.

“Let me just try to think.” I grip my head in my hands and turn a circle, gulping the night air. “Gretchen and I left the party after she and Kirsten fought, sometime before eleven o’clock. I drove her home, then ran into Haley . . .”

“I don’t think Haley matters here.”

“I’m just trying to get it straight in my own head, okay? I ran into Haley.”

“Okay, fine.” He backs off.

I stare at a broken chunk of asphalt lying in the grass. “I must’ve headed into the park a little after eleven . . .”

“Kirsten had time to make it there,” he says. “It only took me fifteen minutes to walk from Brianne’s to my grandmother’s house. It would’ve taken less time than that for her to make it to the park, and any freshman at that party would jump at the chance to brag that they hooked up with her.”

“So it could’ve been Kirsten who attacked me,” I say, my voice trembling.

“If she was mad at both of you, yeah. I don’t think she could’ve mistaken you for Gretchen.”

“She was mad and drunk.” I hesitate. “But that doesn’t explain the phone call.”

“Phone call?”

“Sheriff Wood said Gretchen called her house from her cell phone right after I dropped her off.”

“Oh, right.” His lip curls. “Maybe she was making sure no one was home so she could hook up with her drug dealer boyfriend.”

“But someone answered.”

“Maybe he was already there?”

“According to his alibi, he wasn’t.”

Marcus throws up his hands. “Maybe she butt-dialed and answered it herself, Sonia. Does it matter?”

“Okay, you’re right, I’ll figure that out later.” I bite my lip. “So Kirsten grabbed me from behind at the bridge—I struggled and got away without ever seeing her face. There was no moon that night. Then Gretchen entered the woods and . . . this time Kirsten didn’t let her get away.” I release a shaky breath, staring down at my hands. The scratches are healed, but I’ll feel them in my skin forever. “Kip must’ve come by just after it was done, when Kirsten was looking down at her sister’s body.”

“Why wouldn’t I have seen her? I showed up not long after that.”

“She probably panicked when she saw Kip, and took off. There’s a chance you would’ve missed her, even if she was just on the playground.”

“I just— I can’t believe it was her. She seemed so dedicated to finding the real killer. But maybe that was part of the act.” He meets my gaze. “I’m sorry I didn’t see it.”

I look down, thinking of Mr. and Mrs. Meyer. They’ve dealt with so much already; this will destroy them. And Kirsten—all she ever asked for was Gretchen’s love.

Everything inside me feels like it’s going numb.