Nine Liars (Truly Devious, #5)(107)

“But will he go to jail?”

“I think it depends on what they find,” Stevie said, looking over at her.

“And we’re already looking.”

That was Sebastian, who came up and joined them, along with Sooz. Theo went over to minister to Yash.

“What’s going to happen,” Sebastian said, sitting down, “is that we’re going to pursue this to the ends of the earth. There’ll be more evidence somewhere—CCTV, or witnesses, something. Whatever it is, we’re going to find it. He knows that his life, as he has understood it, is over.”

“Julian may be an arse, but he’s our arse.” Sooz wrapped her arms around herself and considered for a moment. “He’s not actually that much of an arse, really. Still has one, but . . . he’s turned out all right.” She turned her attention to Yash and Theo. “It will be hard for him. They’ve been writing partners for years. But we’ll make sure he’s all right. And . . .”

Theo had taken Yash’s hand in hers as they spoke.

“Look at that,” Sooz said, mostly to Sebastian. “About time. Maybe some good will come of this.”

“Yes,” Sebastian replied thoughtfully. “Perhaps it’s finally going to happen.”

Julian strode over, slipping his phone into his pocket.

“Just talked to my contact at the Met. They’ll have someone pull all the CCTV footage and look at Peter’s cell phone records. We’ll use whatever we have to—social media, whatever—we’ll find someone who saw him with Ange that night. We’ll sort it.”

The five were united.

“You missed your flight,” Julian said to Stevie. “For this.”

Stevie nodded.

“Is that going to go badly for you?”

Stevie nodded again.

“We’ll sort that. For what you did here. There’s a prominent doctor . . .”

He nodded in Theo’s direction.

“. . . who’s been treating you tonight for . . . what would you like? A stomach bug? And there’s a Minister of Parliament who would be happy to phone your school to explain it all.”

“You threw up on me,” Sooz offered. “It was in my hair. I’d be happy to describe it in detail.”

“We’re good at lying,” Sebastian said, leaning over and managing a smile. “We’ve been doing it for years.”

When the five had been assured that Stevie would stay with Izzy for the night, and when they had walked the pair to a taxi that would take them directly to Craven House, the group parted ways. London black cabs were massive on the inside—practically a small, moving room with a plastic wall between them and the driver, and an intercom system to communicate between the two.

“Do you think Peter might come after us?” Izzy said. “They seem worried about it.”

In truth, Stevie did not know. Desperate people did strange and terrible things.

“Peter acted out of fear,” Stevie said. “He killed four people to try to keep himself out of trouble. That’s what motivates him. He’s afraid. And now he knows he’s being watched. You can’t discount it, but . . . I feel like he’s going to play innocent, or he’ll run.”

They fell into silence for a moment as London rolled past. At night, it was lit up like a theater, bright lights on white facades and monuments, glowing advertisements, blue-and-purple neon tracing lines through the dark. Now Stevie had time to let it all sink in. She was alone, her luggage gone and only her small backpack with her. Her friends were on their way home, far out of reach.

David was gone. The wave of emotion hit her with the sudden fury of a freak wave. She had to turn quickly toward the window as her eyes filled up. She squeezed her hands into fists. London was blurry through her tears. She hoped Izzy was too lost in her own thoughts to notice, but apparently not.

“Are you all right?” she asked quietly. “I . . . I know what happened. David mentioned it. I’m sorry.”

Stevie opened the window halfway and took a huff of the cold, minerally air to try to steady herself. It didn’t work.

“I was stupid,” she said, her voice cracking a bit.

“You?”

“I was jealous,” Stevie said. “Of you.”

“Me?”

It seemed this conversation might be one of identifying who was who.

“You thought—David? And me? Stevie, I have my own complicated romance going on with someone at home. It’s a mess. No, David and I never . . . it’s never come up.”

This caught Stevie off guard.

“You do?” she said. “You never said.”

“There’s been no time this week,” Izzy replied. “I’ve barely thought about it.”

The idea that Izzy had a full life that didn’t revolve around David had somehow never occurred to Stevie. Love made her stupid.

“Last night,” Stevie said. “I waited for him. He never came over. It was our last night and I left the door open, and he never came. I thought he was with you.”

“No,” Izzy said. “He left about an hour after you came to the door. He was talking about you the whole time. I was too much of a mess to really listen. I wanted to go to sleep—I was so tired—but he was sitting there on the floor going on and on. He does that a lot—goes on and on about you.”