Total pages in book: 126
Estimated words: 122030 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 610(@200wpm)___ 488(@250wpm)___ 407(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 122030 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 610(@200wpm)___ 488(@250wpm)___ 407(@300wpm)
“Yeah, well, I’m not six anymore. People grow up.” I shrug again. “And things die.”
Everything fucking dies.
CHAPTER 37
SLOANE
AT THE SEMIREGULAR MEETING OF THE TRESSCOTT & SHAW Detective Agency, these two intrepid sleuths have hit another dead end. As we sit on my back porch, RJ scratches the stubble dotting his chin and stares at the surface of the patio table like he’s trying to decipher messages in the grain. The dogs run around like maniacs, chasing insects and the occasional squirrel darting across the yard.
“Can we send another message to Gabe?” I suggest. “Get his version of events from that night?”
“Even if Fenn was willing to put up another five grand, my contact’s gone dark. Said it was too risky and he won’t chance it again. So, short of sending a carrier pigeon or hiring an actress to pose as Gabe’s mother…”
“So within the realm of realistic options…?”
“We’ve got nothing.”
Awesome. Just great. For the first time in months, we have an actual lead. Fenn’s confession that he was covering for Gabe. And yet we’re still spinning our wheels.
I thought getting Fenn to admit what he knew would be the key that unlocked what happened at prom. But surprise! More questions. Like how Gabe Ciprian, of all people, would leave Casey trapped and stranded.
“What about the drugs?” RJ asks. “Gabe was definitely dealing?”
Bo charges up to him and drops a slobbery stick in his lap. Nudges him insistently with a slight growl until RJ chucks the stick back across the yard.
“Worst-kept secret at Sandover,” I confirm. “Everyone knew where to go for their poison.”
“I guess that tracks. No one ends up here by accident. Did Gabe ever go to Ballard?”
“Freshman year,” I confirm. “But then he and Fenn got expelled for stealing booze from their housefather’s liquor cabinet. After that, Gabe was sent to Sandover, and Fenn got shipped off to—fuck, what was it called? Some Swiss boarding school.”
“Wait, really? I thought Fenn came here sophomore year.”
“Yeah, like a month into the semester. He only lasted a few weeks in the Alps before they kicked him out. Honestly, I think he did it on purpose so he’d wind up here. He and Gabe were inseparable.”
Bo returns with his stick and now Penny eagerly shoves her way up to RJ to encourage him to toss it.
“Where’s Casey?” RJ grumbles. “Can’t she distract these little dudes so they leave me alone?” Yet despite his complaining, he continues to throw the stick.
“She’s in her room. Her rabbit died.”
“Shit. That sucks.”
I look over, troubled. “She didn’t even bat an eyelash. Claimed she was prepared for it to die the moment she rescued it. But it was unnerving. Casey’s not usually so stoic.”
“Did she and Fenn get in another fight? Because he was looking pretty wrecked today too. Considering he avoided expulsion, he should’ve been riding high, but he spent the whole day sleeping.” RJ looks as disturbed as I feel.
“Okay, that’s weird. She didn’t say anything about a fight, though.”
Not that she would. These days Casey treats me like I’m the enemy. Meanwhile, I’m spending my Saturday night trying to help her, that ungrateful brat. I could be screwing my boyfriend right now, and instead, he and I are out here trying to piece together what happened the night Casey almost died.
“Has Lucas texted you back?” I ask.
Lucas is the closest connection we have to Gabe, since Fenn insists he never actually saw Gabe and Casey together at the prom.
“No, not yet.”
I swallow my frustration. What I wouldn’t give to assemble everyone in a room, Agatha Christie-style, and recite the evening step-by-step until the culprit is inevitably deduced. Agatha always made it look so easy.
“We don’t have an alibi for Gabe while Casey was missing,” I muse aloud. “He had access to drugs. And he had the opportunity to slip them to her.”
“So, what’s his motive? Why drug your sister and drive her out to the boathouse?”
“I mean, there’s the obvious answer.”
“You mean the nefarious sexual one.”
“Yeah.”
In the days that followed the accident, I was suspicious of everyone. Especially once it was confirmed Casey had been drugged. Knowing that fact, how could there possibly be an innocent motive for what happened that night? Someone we knew and trusted had tried to hurt her, and nearly succeeded in killing her.
Naturally, my fears turned toward the guys, but there wasn’t one particular guy who stood out as a suspect. Until now.
“The tox report the hospital gave to the police had a bunch of stuff in it,” RJ says. “From what I could find online, it’s a cocktail similar to a roofie. A nice downer in the right doses. A mind-eraser if you want it to be.”
A twinge of anger pulls at my insides. I remember how Casey was in tears at the hospital when the doctor told her they’d found drugs in her system. She got even more hysterical after he said they needed to do a rape kit since she couldn’t remember what happened. They didn’t find anything, though. No signs of sexual assault, or sexual activity of any kind, in fact. But that doesn’t mean something didn’t happen.