Trigger warning: this chapter contains details of suicide.

It's like a knife in my gut, a searing pain that clenches my insides and makes me want to double over. My fingers latch onto the window sill to hold myself up.

Why is my sister's cell phone in Xander's bag? Kate had it yesterday, and now Kate is dead. So, how the hell did Xander end up with it?

Unless...

Drew once warned me about Xander. He said he was bad news and that I should stay away. But that was just their mutual hatred talking, right? Xander's not dangerous. He wouldn't hurt anyone.

Would he?

I shake my head, desperate to dislodge the thought, but now that it's emerged, it's firmly planted in my brain. The only possible way Xander could have Ava's phone is if Kate gave it to him herself. Either that, or he took it. But something tells me Kate would have never let it go without a fight. Neither option makes me feel better.

On the bright side—if that's possible—I can now look inside. Whoever my sister was texting before she died, the one who asked to meet them on the cliffs, is most likely the person responsible for her death. After all this time, I may finally have the evidence I've been hoping for. 

Only now...I'm not sure if I want it. What if I find something I'd rather not know? What if whatever is in Ava's phone incriminates someone close to me? Someone I'm growing to care about.

What if the person texting Ava was Xander?

With shaking fingers, I press the power button but the screen doesn't light up, not even when I hold it in place. It's dead. Flipping the phone upside down, I inspect the adaptor, but it's a different size from the charger in my dorm. It's a simple fix. I'll just go into town and buy one that fits.

But a hunch has me checking something else. I peel off the teal case and pick at the back panel until it eventually slides off.

It's empty. The battery is gone. But why?

This problem isn't as simple. Maliseet Bay has a population of almost five thousand people. It may be a tourist trap for whale watchers and lighthouse enthusiasts, but it's not a booming metropolis of retail chain stores. And the shops along the strip are too small to carry the different size batteries needed for every brand and model. Finding a solution is going to take a little more time—and that's not something I have. Whoever killed Ava and Kate is still on the loose. What if more people are on their list?

It's time to involve the police. I hate to do it before I have confirmation of any wrongdoings, but what choice do I have? Someone with more resources can get the job done faster than I'll ever be able to, and everything on campus will be hanging in limbo until law enforcement has unequivocal proof.

I close my eyes and take a deep breath. My nerves are shot. The last thing the police will want in their station is a panicky teenager with half-assed accusations about elite boarding school murders. Once the media catches wind of this, I don't want to be around for the aftermath.

A ping rises from my back pocket. I don't need to read the text to know who it's from. Xander's waiting for me to get in touch with him. He wants his bag—and everything inside.

The hallway walls are closing in on me. I lift the phone from my pocket, and just as I expected, Xander's notification glares at me from the screen.

Xander: Did the office have my bag

Not even a question mark. Up until now, Xander's texts have always represented exceptional grammar. He must be losing his shit.

Before I respond, I tuck Ava's cell inside my sweatshirt. I have it, my thumbs punch into the keyboard.

Xander: Are you on your way

A whoosh of air rushes out of me. After what I just found, I don't want to see him. I can't see him. He may have killed my sister, and all this time he's been pretending to be my friend, telling me stories about his mom and sharing the pain of her death. Uniting us in our grief.

How much of what he's told me is a lie?

There's no backing out of this now. I'll just drop off his bag and make a quick escape. Figure out what I'm going to do next.

Me: I'll be there in a few

My stomach squirms as I cross campus, the increasingly gray sky overhead doing nothing to calm my waves of nausea. As I get closer to Morgan House, Xander comes into view. He's waiting for me outside, sitting on a bench in a different shirt, back rounded, head in his hands, as the entire world presses down on his shoulders.

My boots cement in place on the path. I can't do this. I can't go over there and pretend like I don't know. Can't listen to him spew more lies, keep more secrets, throw me off from the truth. The entire reason I came to this school was to find out what happened to my sister, and all along he's known. He's known.

There's only been one other time in my life that I've felt this betrayed, and that was when my father put a gun in his mouth. The man I trusted to keep me safe and love me forever was the same man who left me to face this cruel world alone.

During his bouts of occasional paranoia, he would convince himself our family wasn't safe. So he bought a revolver, a shiny black Ruger with a three-inch barrel, guaranteed to do the job—should a job need to be done—and he would tend to it like a needy newborn. I'd watch him inspect and clean it, lubricate the moving parts. And store it away safely, out of our reach.

The irony is too much.

How did he think his family would feel, finding him after something like that? Did it cross his mind yet he decided to do it anyway, or did he not think of us at all?

I hate what he put us through. I hate his selfishness, and how his problems were so much greater than ours that he needed to take the easier way out. And I hate that I never said goodbye.

I don't realize I'm still in the center of the sidewalk until Xander's standing in front of me. He's watching me with narrowed eyes, the silver barbell a distracting contrast against his dark brow. "Are you okay?"

Bile rises in my throat. "I'm fine."

"You don't look fine. You're pale—way more pale than usual."

His lame attempt at a joke doesn't make me laugh. "Here's your bag." I thrust the black leather sack in his direction, my chest tightening with an unrest I haven't felt in years.

Turns out, believing someone killed Ava is much different than knowing the person who did it.

Xander's expression tenses. "Do you still want to go to the cemetery and figure out a plan?"

He's still pretending. What's he going to do when he realizes Ava's phone isn't in his bag?

I stuff my hands into my pockets, wrap my fingers around her cell, and do my best to look uncomfortable. It's not difficult. "You know what? I think you're onto something. I'm not feeling very well. Everything with Kate is bringing up bad memories..." I suck in a shaky breath, and try to play the part of a grieving schoolmate—or, at least, a shaken up one. Which isn't a stretch. "I think I'll take a nap. Maybe later?"

"Sure. Okay." He looks disappointed. "Just let me know."

I can't get away fast enough. Xander won't be hearing from me anymore today. My mind is made up. I'm heading into town and straight to the closest police station. I'm tired of dealing with this shit on my own. I'll tell them what I know about Ava and Kate, and I'll deliver whatever evidence is on Ava's phone. Make them responsible for getting the rest of the information. All things considered, I think I've done enough.

Another ping from my back pocket, only this time it's Drew. A wave of impatience rolls through me, leaving me guilty and sick to my stomach. I know what he's going through and should be more sympathetic. But I have things to do.

Drew: Hey, sorry again about breaking down. I don't usually cry like that

Me: Pls don't apologize. I didn't know Kate well but I'm so sry about what happened

Drew: Ty

Drew: Btw, I can't stop thinking about something u said

Me: What's that

Drew: When u asked if Kate could have been with anyone

Stunned, I pause at the entrance of my dorm. Do you think she could have been? I feel like there might be more to this than we know

Drew: Idk. Maybe? Do you think we can meet up later and talk about it

I glance at the time on my phone. It's already after four. Where has the day gone? I want to be there for him, but if I'm going to get to the police station, it will have to wait.

My fingers fly over the screen. I'm sry but can we do it later? I need to go into town for a little while. I have something personal to take care of

Drew: When r u leaving?

Me: 15 mins? I need to grab a few things from my dorm

Drew: Txt me when ur back?

Me: Ofc. ttys

Maybe then I'll have some information I can share. Nothing's going to bring Kate back, but maybe seeing justice served to the person who did this to her will bring him some peace.

When I'm in my room, I slide Ava's phone into a freezer bag, hoping my fingerprints aren't enough to interfere with a potential investigation, and slip on a jacket with a hood in case it rains. Throwing everything I need into a backpack, I leave my room and jog down the steps to the main floor, waving at Lauren, the housemother, on my way out.

Wind pushes against me as I head toward the office. I pull up my weather app to check the forecast and the radar shows spotty blobs of blue, green, and yellow along the coast. The storm's a decent size, but still quite a distance from Maliseet Bay. Nevertheless, students from the sailing club scramble to secure the boats as they ricochet on the waves along the docks.

The main building towers over me. I shoulder my way inside and take the stairs, hoping Mrs. Meloni doesn't give me grief about wanting to leave campus before a storm. But when I step into the office, no one's there. "Hello?"

Silence.

Someone has to be here. It's not curfew yet, which means there are students who are probably still off campus, like Iris and Khalil. A staff member needs to present so they can sign back in.

I stagger toward the counter, by gaze darting back and forth. The overhead lights are turned down, and an eerie stillness surrounds me. Tiny hairs rise along my arms. "Mrs. Meloni, are you here?"

There's a noise behind me. "I sent her home, the poor thing. She's had a rough day. But then, haven't we all?"

I whip around to the voice. Mr. McKenzie is standing in his office doorway, hands buried deep in the pockets of his blazer. He's watching me, his eyebrows low and pulled together.

An uneasy flutter tickles my chest. "It's been terrible."

"I'm sure it's especially difficult for you. So many reminders of Ava..." He tilts his head and smiles. "But I'm glad you're here. It will give us a chance to talk."

Something feels off. The room tilts as if the floor has suddenly lost the ability to hold me up. My boots inch closer toward the hall. "I'm sorry. Now is—not a good time. There's something I need to do."

"Whatever it is can wait." Mr. McKenzie steps aside, his arm unfurling in a grand gesture to invite me in. "After you."