The Vanishing Stair (Truly Devious, #2)(75)

This was to Hunter, who was still staring at David.

“Yeah,” he said. “My car is just a few streets over. I’ll get it.”

“I’m not going,” David said, holding up his hands.

“David, stop.”

“I’ll call 911,” Hunter said.

“No, no,” David said. “No cops.”

He sat down on the curb and examined his phone. Stevie turned to look at Hunter, who was watching all of this in total confusion.

“Hunter,” she said. “Can I have a minute?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Hunter said, backing away. “I’m going back. I’ll . . .”

“Yeah.”

He headed off the way they had come, looking back once or twice.

“You work fast,” David said, still looking at his phone.

“What?”

“Your new buddy. I’m very happy for you both. When will you be announcing the big day?”

“Would you shut up?” she said. She sat next to him. “Let me see.”

This time, he did not move away. He even stuck out his head to let her get a better look at his cheek.

“How is it?” he said.

“It looks deep. You need to go to the hospital, and then we need to get the police.”

“Why?” David said, rubbing at the blood with his sleeve. “It’s not illegal to get your ass kicked in Vermont, is it?”

“It’s illegal for them to hit you.”

“Not if you pay them. I mean, maybe it is. I’m not a lawyer.”

“What do you mean if you pay them? You paid someone—”

“Hang on,” he said. He did something with his phone, then nodded in satisfaction. “There,” he said, pocketing it. “Uploaded.”

“To what?”

“YouTube. To Hayes’s old channel.”

“What?”

“See, I’m not completely useless,” he said. “I can hack a YouTube channel. Now, this has been fun, but you have somewhere to be, right?”

“I don’t understand,” Stevie said, shaking her head. “Are you doing this because of what I did?”

“You?” He laughed, and a little blood trickled from his mouth. “You? Not everything is about you.”

He spit some blood into the street, which caused a woman nearby to move away with her small child. David smiled his bloody smile at them.

“I’m not leaving you,” she said. “I don’t care if you want me to go. You need to go to the doctor.”

“If you won’t go, I will.”

“I’ll follow you.”

“I know what you’re thinking,” he said. “You’re worried that your deal with my dad is off and he’s going to come down in his helicopter and whisk you away.”

“I’m worried that you just got your face beaten in and you seem to like it.”

“I’m touched. Why don’t you go back to whoever your new friend is.”

“Why are you such a dickhead?” she yelled.

“I think you know the answer to that. I think I told you everything. That was a good move on my part. I think I’ve finally learned the benefit of confiding in others. I’ve grown.”

“Am I supposed to say I’m sorry?” she said. As the words came out, she realized she had no idea what the answer was to that question. David cocked his head in interest. Something curious passed over his expression—something Stevie could not make out.

“Probably,” he said. “But we’re past that now.” He spit some more blood onto the street. “Don’t worry about me,” he said. “I think you have bigger problems than I do. At least I know I’m messed up.”

He pushed himself up from the curb and started walking in the direction of the lakefront, dabbing at his face with his scarf. Stevie paced in a circle, unsure of what to do, then bolted to follow him.

“Why did you upload it?” she said. “Why did you pay to get yourself beat up?”

“I have my own plans,” he said. “They don’t involve you.”

“David.” Stevie skipped a step and got in front of him to block him. He walked around her. He moved around again. At this point, blocking him would look like a ridiculous dance, so she continued alongside, keeping up with his brisk stride.

“You want the story?” she said. “Your dad showed up at my house, out of the blue. He had folders full of information about security systems. He talked my parents into letting me back. He took me right to the airport. On the plane, I asked him what he wanted, because I don’t think your dad does this kind of stuff because he’s a nice guy.”

“Good call,” David said, tucking his hands into his pockets. People were looking at him as they passed; it was impossible not to.

“That’s when he said he was sending me back because he thought you would chill the fuck out if I was there. I didn’t tell you because . . .”

“Because . . .”

“Because how do I tell you that?”

“You use your words,” he said.

“And you would have done what?”

David stopped.

“If you told me?” he said. “I would have understood. I know my dad. But you didn’t tell me. You waited until I found my friend dead and decaying on the floor in a tunnel and then you unloaded on me.”