People Like Us(82)

“Police records are easy to hack. Even the sealed records of minors.”

“Not for most people.”

Nola nods graciously.

“But you’re better than most.”

“And you’re worse. Not many people would brag about lying to protect their creepy-ass dead brother. But you went ahead and did all this evil stuff to your friends to keep that secret, and then you told me anyway. What were you thinking?”

I shake my head. “I trusted you.”

She smiles mischievously and bites her lip. “Oops.”

“You got me. The revenge blog was a mind game. Your mind game.” I take the journal out from behind my back and show her the entry. “Oops.”

She shrugs. “That website no longer exists.”

“I’m no computer genius, but I’m pretty sure police detectives can find deleted web pages.”

“Only with a warrant. And there’s no reasonable cause to issue one.” Her eyes remain on the journal, though. I grip it tightly, like a weapon.

“Which brings us to Maddy. Who you also killed, just before you came to my room to unlock the clue about her so we could find her together. My guess is that you crushed a lethal dose of sleeping pills into her coffee just before she took her bath, then pushed her under the water to finish the job. But this time—and here’s the part Brie doesn’t get but I think I do—you did it to shift the blame away from me.”

Her mask of smugness freezes, and I see her lower lip twitch uncertainly.

“You did, didn’t you?” I take a step toward her, but also toward the door, because I don’t want to be trapped in her room with no escape. I don’t know what she’s capable of right here, right now, without witnesses. “You had second thoughts about framing me, and you wanted to backtrack. You went as far as killing Maddy when you saw a picture of her with Spencer because it was the perfect opportunity to set up someone else. You’re one of my only friends, Nola. I know I’m yours, too. It’s not too late to do the right thing.”

She looks at me, her eyes glassy. “Of course it’s too late. There is no right thing anymore.”

“Turn yourself in. No one else has to get hurt. There’s a body count. Nothing can be done about that. We can’t turn back time.”

“Would you?” she interrupts. “Would you take back what you did?”

“Of course I regret being shitty to you.”

She looks at me with wet eyes, her lips trembling. “You were more than shitty. You tortured me.”

I try to remember singling her out. We cracked those jokes about necrophilia, devil worship . . . Not nice stuff. But I don’t remember anything more pointed than that.

She hands me the wooden chest from her desk and I open it to find a dozen envelopes marked Dear Valentine along with a little glass jar filled with tiny dried orchid petals.

And then the horrible, jagged truth crushes me.

Nola wrote the revenge website, and she made up the connection between me, my friends, and Jessica. She knew all about the Dear Valentine incident. But she wasn’t the delivery girl.

I stare down at it for a moment, speechless, and then open one of the envelopes. All of me. I pick up the smooth bone and then stuff it back inside and slam the lid back on the box.

“Dear Valentine,” she says quietly, in her soft singsong voice.

I raise my eyes to hers. “I’m so sorry. I would do anything to take it back.”

She nods slowly, as if underwater. “No amount of sorry can ever erase how you made me feel. My first time away from my family. They were in pieces and they sent me away, and then you all treated me like I was worthless. I was so fucking isolated. I thought you would understand, Kay. You weren’t like the others either. But you pretend so hard. And you crushed me.”

“That’s not fair. You weren’t allowed to know about my life before Bates.”

“Well, I did, and I thought—”

“You were wrong. I made myself fit here.”

“You made yourself a bitch. And you made me what I am. You ruined my life.”

“I didn’t even know who you were,” I say weakly.

“What difference did that make?” Her eyes well up, but her expression doesn’t change. “You still destroyed me.”

“Did you ever even speak to Jessica?”

“I didn’t know her,” she says.

“What difference did that make?” I echo quietly. “You still killed her.”

“I had no intention of killing her. I wanted to hurt you and I was supposed to be the victim. That was the whole point of the website.”

“Your website.”

“I planned it perfectly. You would have been able to access it after you entered enough incorrect passwords. You didn’t need me at all. Just your own paranoia and time to self-destruct.”

I nod. “And you needed a victim.”

“Well, the plan was to frame you for murder. It’s not like I was excited to kill someone. Even less enthusiastic about dying. But framing requires a body. I chose Halloween night, by slitting my wrists and hurling myself into the lake. Because I knew you would be the one to find me.”

“But that’s not what happened.”

She spins a hanging ivy plant and then halts it suddenly and places it on the floor. She begins to take down all of her hanging plants. “No, it’s not. Because I had to watch you in the weeks leading up to murder, to make sure every move you made was accounted for in my plans. And you deviated from what I expected. You broke up with Spencer. He slept with this girl I’d never really noticed before. Most people hadn’t. Jessica Lane. And the fact is, you had a motive to kill her. She was a much better frame than I was.”