One of Those Faces (53)

“I know what you’re trying to do, but Sarah wasn’t just a clue or a victim.” He hung his head. “She was my whole life. And it’s killing me that they haven’t found out who did this to her.”

I wanted to disappear into the floor. He was right. Maybe I’d become so caught up in my own fear and curiosity that I’d truly stopped caring about Holly and Sarah as individuals whose worlds had just stopped spinning one day. “I’m sorry,” I said again, as if it would ever be enough. “I’ll go.” I turned toward the door.

“And please, leave me out of it,” Sam said behind me. “I don’t think I can handle any more of this.”



Iann was parked in front of my building when I arrived home from Sam’s house. He opened the driver’s side door and stepped out as I approached.

“I’m sorry, did we have plans?” I asked, wiping my eyes with my sleeve so he wouldn’t see I’d been crying.

He studied me, his eyes drifting to my red nose. “Yeah, I said I’d pick you up for lunch, remember?”

I honestly couldn’t. I’d been half-dead when he’d slipped into bed in the early morning, and I vaguely recalled a comment murmured into my pillow as he left a few hours later. “Oh, yeah. Is it okay if we order in? What time do you have to be back on campus?” I dug my keys out of my pocket, absently rubbing Sarah’s pendant before starting up the stairs.

“I’m done for the day,” he said, following behind me. “The test was this morning, and I’m skipping my afternoon class. My brain is fried. What do you want to eat? I’ll order.”

My phone began buzzing before I could respond. I glanced at it on the table. Wilder. I picked it up. “Hello?”

“Harper?”

Iann looked at me.

“Yes, is everything okay?”

Wilder sighed on the other end of the phone. “I have an update on Jeremy Stewart.”

My skin chilled.

“Our officers found him deceased in his home this morning,” he said.

I couldn’t form words, a thousand thoughts racing through my mind. I glanced at Iann. His eyebrows furrowed as he watched me.

“It appears that he committed suicide,” Wilder continued. “The good news is he wrote us a note that ties him to Holly’s murder, at least.”

What about Sarah?

“Are you still there?” he asked.

“Yeah,” I said softly.

“Okay, well, what I need from you is a statement about that night that he came to your work for our records,” Wilder said. “You can write it, or I can record it. Is that something you can do?”

“Yeah, this is, um . . . a lot to take in right now.”

Iann’s expression had grown more concerned.

“That’s fine, I’ll check in with you later. Or give me a call when you’re ready, okay?”

“Okay.” I hung up. “Jeremy—” I paused, shoving my phone into my pocket. “He, um, they think he killed himself.”

Iann’s face dropped. “What?”

I took a deep breath. “They found him this morning.”

He sat down at the table, letting his backpack slide from his shoulder and hit the ground with a thud.

“I’m sorry,” I said. It was strange to say that about a murderer’s passing.

He shook his head. “I haven’t seen him in weeks. We were all wondering where he was.”

I sank into the chair beside him. “Wilder said he left a note. He confessed to killing Holly.”

“I don’t understand. Wow,” he said, putting an arm around me and holding me to his shoulder. “I guess you don’t have to be scared anymore, now that he’s gone.”

But what about Sarah?





CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN


“How are you holding up?” Over the past week since Jeremy’s death, I’d grown tired of asking, but I didn’t know what else to say.

“I’m so sick of crying,” Erin said as she watched me wipe down my easel. It was her first night back in the studio after almost a week. She looked like she might have actually gotten some sleep.

I’d waited to hear from her after I got off the phone with Wilder. I’d known there was no way I could break the news to her, especially not with how we’d left things. It’d taken her a day to find out from one of Jeremy’s roommates, and I’d been there for her as soon as she called. I’d sat up with her over long nights at her apartment while she tried to work out how she could have missed the signs. We never discussed our argument, and not once did I even want to say “I told you so.” Because I wished I’d been wrong.

“Let’s go out tonight!” Erin lowered behind the easel to meet my eyeline.

My stomach twisted. As much as I dreaded the thought, this was the first time she actually looked and sounded like her old self. “Are you sure you’re up for it?”

She looked away. “Yeah. I just need to get my mind off of all this. If I spend one more night in, I’ll go crazy.”

“Okay, let’s do something low key,” I countered. “What about a bar? Your choice.”

She smiled. “Yeah. Come back with me to my place, and we’ll get dressed up!”