White Rabbit(67)

“She could be lying for him. She was sleeping with the guy’s best friend—maybe she feels responsible for what happened, and thinks she owes it to Race to keep him out of trouble.”

“She’d have to feel pretty damn guilty to help Race cover up a murder he committed. I don’t see it. Not to sound judgmental or anything? But I’m not sure Peyton Forsyth is even capable of that much remorse. In the fifth grade, she literally stole a bunch of valentines from a disabled girl, and then had her mother complain to the school board when our teacher punished her for it.”

“I’m being serious, Rufus.”

“So am I!” I pick through my words. “Look: I agree that we still need to follow up on Race and Peyton, and if you say Lia couldn’t have done it, I’ll try to give her the benefit of the doubt—for you. But she’s kept a lot of stuff from us tonight, and we need to get to the bottom of it before we can just scratch her off the list. That’s all I’m saying.”

The problem, of course, is that there’s so much more to say.

Like how we only found Arlo’s body because Lia sent us to his house; like how it was only after she knew we knew that the guy was too dead to confirm or deny her version of events that she told us about the return trip to the cottage; like how we also only had her word that she learned of Fox’s death from Hayden—or that Hayden even went to her house at all tonight—and that he was the one who left the bruises on her arms. Said and done, for all we know, she got them while murdering Arlo.

It’s definitely worth remembering that Arlo had been sitting on his porch with a rifle all night, apparently expecting trouble … and yet his killer managed to get close enough to slit his throat. How? There are a lot of reasons that math doesn’t make sense, and only a couple of likely solutions. If Lia told us the truth about the trip back to the cottage, then for some reason Arlo had to have let his killer talk him into putting his weapon down; if she was lying to us … well, then, the only conclusion worth jumping to is that she’s the murderer.

The idea doesn’t please me. Sebastian and I are just starting over, and I really don’t want Lia to be an obstacle between us again—I really don’t want to kick off our reconciliation with another stupid fight. But the fact of it is, I can’t help seeing a pattern of manipulation in the way that Lia has disclosed information to us. When we were clumsily fishing for motives for Fox’s murder, she directed us to Arlo while making it seem like she was trying to defend him; then, once Arlo was dead, she openly directed us to Hayden. Maybe she’d even directed Hayden straight to Lyle Shetland, hoping that my brother would get himself killed and tie up all her loose ends for her.

Unable to say any of that out loud, I keep my mouth shut until we’re at the curb in front of the Santos house again, both of us struggling for something neutral to say. Nothing appears to have changed since our previous visit, and Sebastian fires off a short text announcing our arrival, then falls into step beside me as we make our way to the basement door.

Lia lets us inside, barely allowing us to clear the threshold before slamming the door closed again and twisting the deadbolt into place. She looks terrible, dark circles expanding under her eyes, and I smell alcohol on her breath as she whispers, “What happened? Did you find Lyle? Did you talk to him?”

“Sort of. I mean, not exactly,” Sebastian hedges uncomfortably, his body tense and his gaze aimed at the floor. Just like that, I realize that in spite of all his arguments in the car, he’s got his doubts about her innocence, too. “Have you heard from Hayden?”

“No, thank God.” Lia shifts from one foot to another. “What do you mean, ‘not exactly’? Did you talk to Lyle or didn’t you?”

“It’s complicated.” Sebastian scratches his elbow.

Lia seems to be waiting for more, but neither of us says anything, tension pouring in through the cracks under the door, our awkwardness hardening in place. Finally, she tosses her arms out. “‘It’s complicated?’ I’ve been binging and purging my feelings for like an hour now, terrified that Hayden Covington was gonna show up and bludgeon me to death, and all you’ve got to say is ‘It’s complicated?’”

“Why didn’t you tell us about Javi?” Sebastian demands, and Lia jerks like he’s just thrown a drink in her face. “Why didn’t you tell us Fox was selling to him?”

“Because it’s none of your business,” she fires back savagely. “How dare you come here and ask—who told you, anyway? Was it Lyle? Was it April?” Her eyes suddenly go so wide, I’m afraid they’re about to come flying out of her face like champagne corks. “Oh shit, did she tell that to the police?”

“Lia—”

“Javi is a good kid! He made one stupid mistake, okay? And now they’re going to think—” She cuts herself off, paces a tight 360, and then blurts, “April fucking threatened Fox with a knife, right in front of me! She said she was going to kill him for cheating with Peyton! If she thinks she can—”

“Why didn’t you tell us about that?” I interrupt, startling her out of her tirade. “Hayden told you Fox was dead and that April killed him, but it was pretty easy to talk you out of the idea. If you knew she’d threatened to stab him, why didn’t you say something about it?”