In My Dreams I Hold a Knife(95)

“Good luck,” Eric muttered. “It won’t stay buried forever.”

It felt like a warning. I bit my tongue and tasted iron.

“Courtney can follow Mint to hell for all I care,” Caro said suddenly. “After what she did, drugging Heather.”

The room chilled. The words were harsh, but maybe the harshest part was that they came from Caro. I remembered something I’d said to her once when I was annoyed—maybe sophomore year, maybe junior: Caro, toughen up or the world is going to chew you.

Well, she’d toughened. After we’d broken her.

Frankie spoke carefully, eyeing Caro. “It’s a good thing Courtney’s hiding, anyway, with the media shitstorm over Mint. I gave her mom the number of my PR guy, but there’s only so much you can do when you’re the wife of a famous murderer.”

I looked at him. “Everyone knows Mint killed Heather?”

He nodded. “We told the cops first, but then we talked to the reporters.”

“We went to the Journal,” Jack said, “and found the reporter who’d covered Heather’s case ten years ago.” His face darkened. “The one who was so convinced I did it. Who smeared me and would never take down those old stories. Boy, was he surprised to see me.”

“We didn’t come here to chat,” Caro snapped. “Let’s get on with it.”

Jack glanced at her. “Right.” His voice lowered. “We’re the only people alive who know what happened at Blackwell. We need to swear to each other we’ll take the truth to our graves. If the cops ever found out the real story, Eric would go away for a long time. The law’s pretty black and white when it comes to killing people, even if they killed your sister first.”

What would the law say about me?

“Not to mention,” Eric said, “the minute the cops got hold of my laptop, with all my research on it, they’d have a strong case for premeditation.”

I studied him. His tone was dry, like this was all vaguely amusing. What was he feeling, now that his sister’s death was solved, her killer dead by his hands? Peace, or purposelessness? His face was drawn, like he hadn’t slept for days. Was he still haunted?

“Before you ask me, yes, Jack and I have files on you all,” Eric continued. He rubbed a hand over his eyes. “And it’s not the nicest stuff.”

Frankie, Coop, and Caro shifted almost imperceptibly away from him.

“Are you planning to delete those files?” Coop asked.

Eric shrugged at Jack. “His decision. He’s the one who supplied most of the real damning stuff. You know, the little tidbits about what made you all tick, what your vices were, who you were jealous of. Helped me put the pieces together.”

Quid pro quo, I guess. For ten years we’d blamed Jack and ignored Eric. In return, they’d combed through our faults and orchestrated a plan to extract our confessions.

Jack rested a hand on Eric’s shoulder. “We’ll delete the files. This is a cease-fire. Nobody wants to see Eric in prison, or any of your secrets leaked.”

Our secrets. I looked at my friends. For all our closeness, I’d still missed so much. How well had I ever really known them?

“I swear to let Jessica take all the blame for Mint’s death,” Caro said curtly. “Can I go now?”

“I swear, too.” Coop’s eyes slid toward Caro, but she kept her gaze carefully averted.

“I won’t say a word,” Frankie promised.

“And I vow to take it to my grave,” Jack said.

They all looked at me, waiting. “It was me,” I whispered. Saying the words was intoxicating. So close to a real confession.

Eric nodded, his mouth set in a grim line. “Thank you.”

Caro straightened. “I’m done. From here on out, I want nothing to do with the East House Seven. I never want to see any of you insane, terrible people for the rest of my life.” She turned her glare to Coop. “Any of you.”

She moved to leave, then twisted back to look at me. Her dark eyes burned holes in my face. I became acutely aware that I was an accused criminal, chained to a hospital bed. “You want to know the saddest part?” Her voice wasn’t angry anymore. It was speculative. “Even now, to this day, I think you were the love of my life. You were always talking about your dreams, back in college. Harvard this and DC that. Well, you want to know what my dream was? You. A real best friend.”

My eyes burned. Caro’s voice softened. “I would have done anything for you.”

Before I could say a single word of apology, Caro spun and stalked out of the room, leaving all of us staring at her back.

I met Coop’s eyes for a second. He drew a sharp breath. “I have to go, too,” he said. “Davis will let you know when the police officially clear you.”

“Coop, wait—” I sat up, struggling against the restraints, but he ignored me, clutching his hair and following Caro out of the room.

I sat, stunned. I’d risked it and lost them both.

Jack cleared his throat. “Despite what Caro thinks, you should know they think you’re a hero.”

“What? Who?”

He smiled. “Everyone. The girl who saved herself and avenged her friend’s killer.”

“I thought I was the ‘Femme Fatale of Blackwell Tower.’”