"Shh, it's not your fault. We're gonna be OK," I murmured into his shoulder, praying that I was right.
"We're going to be OK" was one of the most overused phrases, but also one of the truest. No matter what had happened, how deeply something hurt you, the world continued to spin, and you would continue to breathe. Things might be awful for a while--sometimes a long while--but eventually, you would be able to function again. I just wasn't sure if I had the patience or energy to wait for that time.
Kyle pulled away and took a deep breath. "We should get back to painting. I think it'll take two coats."
I nodded with a small smile and picked up the brush again. "Kyle, do you honestly believe Blake killed them?"
His arm moved up and down as he stroked the paint onto his wall. It took him a long time to reply. "Look, Kenz, I know you want to believe someone broke in, and I do too, but that didn't happen. We know that for a fact, so yes, I believe it was Blake. We don't know him, and I'd much rather believe it was a stranger than someone I've known over half my life. I get that you want it to be someone else, but I don't think it can be."
It had to be someone else. I didn't sleep with a murderer. But how could I deny the facts? No, I could deny Blake's involvement in their deaths because he was innocent. I had to believe that. I had to.
"Did it ever cross your mind that it could be me?" I asked, holding my breath. If he said yes, it'd crush me.
Kyle laughed. "You're kidding, right? Mackenzie, you make me take spiders outside because you won't have them killed. No, I never thought it's you."
I exhaled a huge sigh of relief.
His eyebrows arched. "You think it could be me?"
"No," I replied. "I don't think it's any of you."
"You have a thing for Blake," he said. It was a statement and not a question.
A thing. Sure, I cared about him as a human being. I refused to believe he could kill his brother, so suddenly that meant I had a thing for him? None of the others knew that Blake and I had slept together, and I hadn't realized our feelings were obvious. We'd had sex, and Blake had made me feel things that were new and frightening. I didn't sleep around. Being intimate with someone was special, and I'd let Blake in way too soon...though it didn't feel too soon at all. That scared me. The way my body reacted when he was around scared me. But I couldn't tell Kyle any of that. Not one of my friends would ever believe the killer was one of us over Blake. And there was no way I was telling my friends that I slept with a guy the same day I'd met him, because that would surely get back to my parents. My town was tiny, and there wasn't a lot you could get away with.
Realizing I'd been quiet for some time, I sputtered, "I-I don't. Kyle, I barely know the guy."
"You defend him blindly."
"It's not blindly."
"Yes, it is. You said yourself you don't know him well. You're defending a guy that, for all you know, could be a killer. I'd call that blind."
"He couldn't have done it," I snapped.
"Why not?"
Closing my eyes, I let the words spill out. "Because he was with me all night."
Kyle stilled. "What?"
"Don't judge. He woke me up in the middle of the night and one thing led to another. We went upstairs. Josh and Courtney were nowhere to be seen, so they must've been upstairs too."
"Upstairs? Mackenzie, they never made it upstairs!"
I shook my head. "No, I would've known if they were already dead."
"How? You couldn't see through to the kitchen from the sofa. Oh my God." He ran his hand over his face. "Surely you can see what happened? Blake killed them and then woke you so you could be his alibi."
"No...Kyle, no, that's not what happened." I stumbled back a step and pressed my lips together. That wasn't true. Blake wouldn't take advantage of me like that... Would he? "You can't honestly believe that."
"What other explanation do you have?"
"Anyone could've woken up at any point and killed them."
"That's true, but none of us would have done it."
I sighed with frustration. "Can we not talk about this, please? Let's just get your room done."
Kyle pursed his lips, considering my request. He looked to the floor and then back at me. "Sure." Knowing Kyle, he probably wanted to lecture me until I came around to his way of thinking--or have Aaron guard me and keep me away from Blake.
"Thanks." I didn't want to argue with him, not my sweet Kyle. Not the guy who bought me my favorite junk food when I was feeling down and watched chick flicks without complaint--well, much complaint--just because I wanted to. "Have you spoken to Aaron or Megan today? I tried Megan earlier, but it went straight through to voice mail."
"Aaron's at her place. Her grandparents came home from Italy to make sure she was OK, probably why she didn't answer."
I nodded and made a mental note to go and see her in the morning. If Aaron was already with her, she wouldn't need me too, and I didn't want to intrude if her extended family was over.
"So do you really think the killer could be Tilly's dad?" I asked as we worked side by side. Lawrence had said some threatening things. But then, so had Aaron. He'd threatened to kill Josh. It was all talk in the heat of the moment, but if we took Lawrence's threat seriously, then shouldn't we treat Aaron's with the same seriousness?
Kyle lifted his shoulder and let it drop. "Maybe. If he had the opportunity to kill us without repercussion, I think he would have. He desperately wants someone to blame for Tilly's death, and you can't blame the poor bastard for that."
"I know, but to kill someone over an accident? I can't get my head around it," I replied.
"People justify their actions to themselves all the time. I can buy a shirt because it's thirty percent off or just one more drink will be OK because I've eaten a big dinner."
"I'll kill this person because they deserve it?"
He shrugged with the same shoulder again. "I guess."
"That's stupid!"
"Kenz, I'm not saying it's right or the sane thing to do, but people use their own logic to justify all kinds of decisions. Our other option is Blake, but I know how you feel, so let's not argue over him."
It took us four and a half hours to paint Kyle's room twice. My arm ached--everything ached--and I felt like collapsing. "Shit. It's really green," Kyle said, looking at the bright walls with wide eyes.
"Yep," I replied. "I'm not painting it again for at least three months, so you'll have to live with it or repaint it yourself."
He grinned. "Deal. Hopefully it won't look like I'm living in some animated, Disney forest when the furniture is back."
"Doubt it, but let's see," I teased him. It felt so good to joke around after all of the crying for Courtney and Josh.
We uncovered his furniture and pushed it all back into place once the walls were dry enough. Thankfully, with the furniture, his room didn't look quite so bright, but I still wouldn't have slept there.
"I hate to say I told you so..." I said.
He smirked and nudged my shoulder with his own. "No, you don't. I wanted a change, and I got one. I can deal for a while."
"Maybe we can paint three of the walls white or something? That'll tone it down."
"Yeah, maybe."
"OK, let's get the rest of your stuff put away, and then you're making me some food." Kyle still had football trophies, posters, and a few shoe boxes of stuff left in the middle of the room.
I bent down to pick up one of the shoe boxes, and the side fell open, spilling the contents onto the floor. "Damn it," I muttered and knelt on the carpet to pick up the photographs that had scattered.
"Smooth," Kyle said, dropping down to help.
One photograph caught my eye, and my heart fell into my stomach. "Kyle, what's this?" I whispered in shock, holding up that photograph.
His mouth popped open to form a perfect O. Panic surged through his eyes, but he quickly recovered. "Just a picture from years ago."
I looked back at the selfie of Kyle kissing Courtne
y and frowned. Court's hair was a fierce red, brighter than the hair dye she usually used, because the store hadn't had her usual. I remembered it clearly, because I was the one who had dyed it for her--for the last time, it seemed--just before Easter, three months ago. This photo was recent. "Kyle, this must have been taken in April. Courtney's hair," I said, explaining that I knew he was lying. "What the hell was going on between you two?"
Kyle and I stared at each other, both silently challenging the other. Kyle sighed and closed his eyes. He kept his eyes shut as he very quietly confessed, "We were together."
"Together? You two were together? When? How? I don't get it..."
He cleared his throat and his forehead creased. "Behind Josh's back. In secret. Having an affair. Get it now?"
My shoulders slumped. All the air left my lungs in one big rush. How much did I not know about my best friends? "Shit, what the bloody hell were you thinking? Why didn't Court tell me? Why didn't you tell me?"
"Really, Mackenzie?" he muttered dryly.
"Look, Kyle. Court and I have known each other since we were seven, and I would have preferred to see her with you than with Josh."
"Yeah, well, so would I. She wouldn't leave him. She kept saying she would break it off with Josh, but she kept postponing for one reason and then another. Finally, eight months later, she cut me off and chose him."
My eyes bulged. "Eight months?" Kyle and Courtney hadn't had just a brief fling; it had been a full-on affair! She was seeing him through most of her relationship with Josh. "I don't even know what to think..."
He snatched the photo back. "Don't think anything. Courtney led me on and screwed me over. I would have done anything for her. I loved her so much, but she chose him. I hate her for what she did to me," he spat. He'd turned cold and withdrawn.
I blinked in shock. The hostility coming from Kyle made me want to leave. He didn't sound like himself, and I hated that. "Don't say you hate her," I whispered. Courtney was wrong for leading him on, and I was angry with her for hurting him, but she was our friend. And she was dead. It didn't help to be mad at her now.
He stood up and gestured to the mess on his floor. "I've got things to do."
"What? You want me to leave now? Kyle, I can't..." Explanations. I needed them. He couldn't just make me leave without talking about this.
"I'm tired, Mackenzie, and frankly, I don't feel like talking about me and Courtney."
Sighing, I got up too. Fine. I wasn't going to get anything out of him, and staying was pointless if he wasn't going to talk. Right now I needed some space too. "I'm sorry you got hurt."
Kyle stared at me, his eyes dark and empty. Finally, he replied, "Doesn't matter now, does it?"
I turned and left his room, eager to be as far away from him as I could. He was clearly torn up over Courtney's death, but I couldn't help but feel betrayed by their secret relationship. And now, my happy, mischievous, caring friend had been replaced by a bitter, spiteful stranger.
I walked to my car in a daze. Just how much did Kyle hate Courtney for not choosing him? How much did he hate Courtney and Josh? Yesterday, I would have never thought he could have been capable of murder, but the Kyle in his room just now had been completely different. Was the furious person that I had just met--Kyle's darker side--capable of stabbing two people who were once his friends? An affair. Kyle didn't do that. He was loyal and had morals. Or so I had thought.
Chapter Nine
Friday, August 21
I pulled up outside the cabin, and my hands started to shake. I'd not been here since the police carted us off, and I didn't want to ever go back inside. I had to though. There had to be something the police missed because I was going crazy. Thinking the people I trusted most in the world were capable of something so heinous was not OK with me. There had to be clues in that cabin. You couldn't murder two people in such a violent and bloody way and not leave some sort of evidence behind.
My phone buzzed in my pocket, and I stilled. I slid the phone from my jeans, and my finger hovered over the screen. Kyle had already called me eight times today and I'd ignored them all. He'd never been so insistent before. On a heavy sigh, I clicked my phone to silent.
Blake's Warrior sat in the driveway, but that wasn't surprising. He didn't really have anywhere else to go to get away from his family, and I thought being at his mum's must have been awkward as hell. He couldn't go back home to his dad's because we all had to stay in town.
Police tape cordoned off the cabin, but the front door was open, so I guess Blake didn't care that it was a closed crime scene. Neither did I. Usually I was a rule follower, but there was no time for that now. Someone needed to figure out what had happened--and fast. What if the murderer started coming after the rest of us?
I walked into the cabin, ignoring the thudding of my heart, and looked around for Blake. The place was a mess. Everything had been turned upside down. Sofa cushions were on the floor. Furniture had been moved. Photographs had been taken down from the walls and spread out on the side table.
Blake was by the window, staring out in a daze. I cleared my throat. His head snapped around in my direction, and he arched his eyebrow. "What're you doing here?" he demanded.
Not letting him intimidate me, I stood up straight. Trying to prove to myself that Kyle isn't the killer and find out who is. "What are you doing here?"
"This is my cabin. Your turn."
"Looking for..." I trailed off, frowning. I slouched in defeat. Who was I kidding? I had less than no clue how to catch a killer. "I don't know. Anything I can, I guess."
Blake cocked his head to the side. "You're looking for a murderer. What makes you think you'll find any clues that dozens of police officers and detectives couldn't? They've gone through this cabin with a fine-tooth comb, Mackenzie. There's nothing to see here."
"Well, they don't have as much to lose as I do, and we don't know they haven't found anything."
He sighed. "So dramatic."
"What happened here?" I asked, ignoring his comment.
"Police would've been searching for the murderer's clothes. They have the knife. It was one of ours."
"They do?" The knife! There must be fingerprints on the knife. "And?"
"And they have the knife," he deadpanned. "We all used them when we were cooking dinner together...and most of the other utensils, actually. Doubt they'll find much there."
"The point is that the killer's prints might be on it too!"
My heart spiked with hope. Please let them find someone else's prints.
Blake smirked, lighting up his striking blue eyes. "So what have you got planned, then? Sniffer dogs?"
"Are you going to help me or what?"
"Did I offer?" he replied, frowning.
"Fine, Blake, just stand there and look out of that window. Pretend I'm not here."
"That's hard to do when you're talking to me."
"What's your problem?" He was being a total bastard. "What's happened?"
"Nothing," he grunted. "Just tired of all this shit. I want to know who killed my little brother, and I want all your friends to stop looking at me as if I did it."
"And I want to know who killed my friends."
"Friend," he corrected. "You hated Josh, remember?"
I gritted my teeth. Somehow Blake had shifted the blame onto me when I was the one--the only one--who had his back. "Fine. I want to find out what happened to my friend and her boyfriend. Better?"
Ignoring that particular response, he asked, "Where do you want to look first?"
My head spun. Being around him was like being a human yo-yo; he'd reel me in and then shove me away. "You're helping now?"
"Don't make me change my mind, Mackenzie."
"Right. Sorry. Well, I've no idea where to start. You know this place better than me. If he or she didn't use the doors, then what about the windows?"
He folded his arms. "They were all closed--properly closed--from the inside."
"Yes, I know that, Blake."
&
nbsp; "Then why are you looking there?"
I glared. He made me want to kiss him and punch him all at the same time. He was pushing my buttons, and I was seconds from snapping. Why was no one taking this as seriously as I was? I needed to check, just in case. "Just do your own bloody thing!"
Blake's eyebrows shot up in shock. Before he could reply, I left the living room and walked into the kitchen. The kitchen was the most logical place for someone to enter or, at least, exit. The murders happened in the kitchen, and whoever did it would have needed a quick escape.
The sight of the floor that I'd seen covered in blood made me want to run back to my car, drive home as fast as I could, and hide in bed--but I couldn't allow myself that weakness. I didn't want to stop and think. I didn't want to face the reality of what happened.
"Mackenzie?" Blake called. I ignored him and shoved at the little window over the sink. The handle was down, and the window didn't budge. I was hoping the latch was broken and it would open with a little force. The police would have tried that already, of course.
"What?" I replied, shoving the wooden frame with as much force as I could muster. "Damn it!" I slammed my palm against the glass in frustration. "Why won't it just open?" I shouted, my frustration fizzing over.
"Stop." His strong hand gripped the top of my arm and pulled me back. "This is ridiculous. It's not going to magically open, Mackenzie, and you're just going to end up hurting yourself."
I held my finger up as another thought sprung to my mind. "Maybe I'm starting in the wrong place. I should find the murderer before I find out how they did it."
"OK, Sherlock, where are we starting?" If I were Sherlock Holmes, I would have figured it out by now. I had no absolutely no clue, not even a hint.
"A hideout." I turned on my heel and walked out of the cabin, rubbing the ache in my chest. The killer would need somewhere to hide, to wait for the perfect moment. I was sure of it. Sort of.
Blake's footsteps thudded behind me, crunching dried leaves on the ground. "You don't even know where you're going," he said.
"No one knows where they're going before they actually go," I replied, power walking ahead. "If you're just here to annoy me, then please turn around now."
"You can't just go wandering off into the woods by yourself."
I stopped, turned around, and glared. "Why do you care?" Blake blew hot and cold all the time. I had no idea where I stood with him.