One of Us Is Back (ONE OF US IS LYING)

Addy

Tuesday, July 21

“Sorry about that pit stop,” Gavin says, pocketing his wallet as he opens the car door. “Didn’t realize I was running on fumes.”

“No problem,” I say absently, my arm stretching beside me as I feel around on the floor for my phone. I dropped it right when I was trying to check in with Bronwyn, and now it’s taunting me with constant buzzing. “I didn’t realize this place even existed. Where are we?”

Gavin starts the engine. “Cheapest gas in Bayview. Well, the Bayview-Eastland line. We’re just a few blocks away from the old Guppies candy factory. Remember those?”

“The gummy fish?” I ask, still feeling around on the floor for my phone.

“The sweetest treat you’ll ever meet,” Gavin sings in an off-key voice. “Those were terrible commercials. No wonder they went out of business.” He makes a sharp turn out of the gas station and adds, “Is that your phone buzzing?”

“Yeah, I dropped it in no-man’s-land,” I say, turning in my seat to check out the floor behind us. “It’s been ringing up a storm ever since.”

“Want me to pull over?”

I right myself and dust off my palms. “No, it’s fine. I’ll get it once we’re there.”

“You sure?”

“Well…” I hesitate. If someone’s messaging me about Phoebe, time might be of the essence. “Yeah, okay. Thanks.”

Gavin gazes around us. “This is kind of a quiet road, but it’s narrow too. Let me find someplace where we won’t be in anyone’s way in case they…ahh.” He grins as we pass a chain-link fence. “The Guppies parking lot, at our service.”

“I’m surprised they haven’t done anything with this building,” I say as it looms into sight.

“It’ll probably get turned into condos eventually,” Gavin says, pulling into the deserted parking lot.

Minutes later, I’m hovering beside the open passenger door as Gavin, grunting, pushes the seat back as far as it can go and sweeps his hand beneath it. “You weren’t kidding about no-man’s-land,” he says. “I can hear it, but I can’t tell where it is. Let me get a flashlight out of the trunk and try from the back seat.”

“Sorry about this,” I say as he pops the trunk.

“I’m the one who’s sorry. Didn’t realize my car was the Bermuda Triangle,” Gavin says. Flashlight in hand, he opens one of the rear doors and slides into the back seat.

An engine roars behind us. I turn, mildly curious about who else decided to hang out in the deserted Guppies parking lot, and blink in surprise at the sight of a familiar motorcycle charging our way. Nate stops a few feet from me, whips off his helmet, and holds it out. “Here,” he calls over the still-roaring engine. “I don’t have an extra, so you need to put this on.”

I blink, confused. “What are you…how did you know we were here?”

“Snapchat location,” Nate says. His eyes rove over Gavin’s car before he pushes down his bike’s kickstand and dismounts with the engine still running, crossing the space between us to shove the helmet into my hands. “We need to leave, Addy. Now. No questions, okay?”

I gape at him. I’ve never seen Nate so deadly serious. “Okay,” I say, twisting to look over my shoulder. “But I need my phone. Gavin’s looking for it, it’s stuck somewhere under—”

“Get it later,” Nate says, just as Gavin emerges from the car, triumphantly holding up my phone.

“Found it!” he calls. Then his eyebrows lift in surprise. “Nate? What are you doing here? Thought you were working late.”

Nate’s eyes flick between Gavin and me. “Family emergency,” he says.

“Oh God, really?” My heart plummets. And just when things were going so well for him too. “Okay, let me grab my phone and I’ll go.”

“Wow, sorry to hear that,” Gavin says as I head his way. “You’ve got messages coming in like crazy, Addy. Here you—”

He breaks off as I reach him, eyes fixed on my screen. “What?” I ask. I hold out my hand, but Gavin doesn’t give me the phone. Instead, he stares at Nate.

“So that’s why you’re here,” he says heavily. “You know.”

“Know what?” I ask. I try to pluck my phone out of Gavin’s hand, but he twists away and holds it out of my reach. “What are you…Gavin! Give me my phone.”

“Leave it, Addy!” Nate calls, heading our way.

“You don’t understand,” Gavin says, a note of desperation creeping into his voice. All of a sudden, he’s between Nate and me. “I’m trying to help you guys. Chelsea…listen, Chelsea’s in kind of a crisis, okay?”

“Chelsea?” I repeat, stomach twisting.

“Evie from Café Contigo,” Nate says. “Her real name is Chelsea Alton, though. And our friend Gavin here graduated high school with her in Ohio.”

My jaw drops as Gavin says, “I swear to God, I’m trying to help.”

He holds up both hands, my phone still in one of them. “If Chelsea’s name means something to you, then I guess you know her dad died when she lived in Bayview. I got to know her once her family moved and I—I fell for her right away. Even though she’s always had kind of a wall up.” He swallows hard. “She’s been through a lot, you know, losing both of her parents, but especially her dad. They were close, and she’s never really gotten over it. She tends to dwell on stuff, but lately, it’s been more than that. She got this idea in her head that her dad didn’t drown after all. That somebody might’ve killed him.”

“She got this idea?” Nate repeats. “How does someone get an idea like that?”

“I don’t know,” Gavin says miserably. “She wouldn’t tell me, but she insisted on moving back to Bayview. So of course, I tagged along too. Had to take a break from school, but that’s what you do when you’re head over heels for someone, right? You’ll do anything for them.” Nate’s expression thaws a fraction, because—yeah. He knows what that’s like.

Gavin rubs a hand across the back of his neck and adds, “Chelsea didn’t like that, though. She broke up with me almost as soon as we got here. And then…things started happening.”

“Things?” I echo.

“That billboard from her father’s old company. Phoebe disappearing. And Reggie…and Jake…” Gavin’s jaw tenses. “I don’t know what’s going on. But it doesn’t feel like a coincidence, you know?”

“Yeah.” Nate studies him, eyes narrowed. “We know.”

“And then…then I found this.” Gavin crosses over to the still-open trunk and leans inside. “In Chelsea’s apartment.”

“Thought you said you guys were broken up?” Nate says.

“We are, but I have a key, and I got worried, so…come look.” Gavin pulls out a blue-and-gold jacket. “I’m no expert, but I watched the news coverage of what happened in Bayview like everybody else, and this damn football jacket got imprinted on my brain. I think…I think it might belong to Jake.”

“Let me see,” Nate says, crossing over to the trunk.

Gavin tosses him the jacket and Nate holds it up, frowning. “This isn’t—” he starts, but before he can get out another word, Gavin’s a blur of motion, lunging for Nate so quickly that I don’t understand what’s happening until there’s a sickening, crunching sound and Nate collapses on the ground with Gavin standing over him, a crowbar dangling from one hand.

A scream erupts from my throat and then gets immediately cut off because Gavin’s on me now, pinning my arms with one hand as the other covers my mouth. “I didn’t want to do that,” he says, breathing heavily. “I really didn’t. But I meant what I said. I’d do anything for Chelsea, and she has to finish what she’s started.”

Tears fill my eyes as I watch a dark-red stain appear beneath Nate’s head. “She’s doing you a favor, Addy,” Gavin continues. “You know better than anyone that Jake Riordan is a fucking menace to society. All you and your friends had to do was stay out of the way, and me and Chelsea would’ve taken care of him. You weren’t supposed to figure things out this fast. And now…now I don’t know what the hell to do with you.” He starts dragging me toward the trunk, and I fight him every step of the way, my eyes on Nate’s still form.

Then I see one of Nate’s fingers twitch. Relief floods me—he’s alive—followed by sickening dread at how small the movement was. And then, I go limp.

Nate needs help, fast, and I can’t help him unless…

I stare up at Gavin, making my eyes as beseeching as I can. “I want to help you,” I say, my voice muffled against his hand.

He pauses, lifting his palm a fraction from my mouth. “What did you say?”

“I want to help you,” I say. “With whatever you’re going to do to Jake.”

Gavin snorts. “You want to help me after what I did to Nate? I don’t think so.”

“Nate isn’t my friend. He let Jake walk all over me.” The lies drip off my tongue like poison. Nobody in their right mind would believe them, but Gavin clearly isn’t in his right mind, and I can’t think of a better plan. “All of them do. We’re supposed to be Murder Club, but nobody has the guts to commit an actual murder, even when somebody deserves it as much as Jake. So if that’s what you’re doing, I’m in.”

Gavin stares at me. “You really think I buy that?” he asks. My heart sinks, but then his eyes start to gleam. “Might not be a bad idea to have you around, though. We need a way out of this, or at least a distraction until we can disappear, and you might be it. You’ve got a pretty big grudge against him too.” He gives me another shove until I’m facing the still-open trunk and says, “Go ahead. Get in.” When I don’t move, he barks out a short laugh. “You didn’t think I was going to let you ride shotgun, did you?”

Oh God. He’s still holding my phone, and—

And I have another one.

Nate’s last burner phone is still nestled in my pocket. “Okay,” I say, climbing into the trunk before Gavin can ask me to empty my pockets. “I meant what I said. You’ll see.”

He looms over me. “Hold out your hands.” My heart sinks even further when he grabs a piece of rope and loops it around my wrists. He pushes me down, and rough carpet scrapes my cheek as he does the same thing to my ankles. Then he grabs a piece of cloth and ties it over my mouth, knotting it so hard at the back of my head that I let out a strangled grunt of pain as strands of my hair break. Still, I don’t struggle. “You’re making this very easy,” Gavin says, almost conversationally. “Chelsea always says not to trust easy.”

I meet his eyes, willing mine to stay dry and unblinking. He stares at me for a few seconds, and then darkness descends as he slams the trunk door.

I take a few deep, steadying breaths. This isn’t ideal, but my wrists aren’t so tightly bound that I’m unable to move my hands. My knees are already at my chest, my hands by my hips, as I slide my fingers into my pocket and feel the cool metal of the phone.

Nate’s phone. Nate, bleeding out on the ground.

No. Don’t think about that.

I focus on slowly pulling out the phone as the roar of Nate’s motorcycle stops and a car door slams. Then the car’s engine starts, making everything around me vibrate, and the phone nearly slips out of my now-sweating hands. No, Addy, focus. Take it slow. I pause, shifting my weight a little as the car begins moving. Then I hold the phone carefully between my bound hands and flip the lid, letting out a choked sob of gratitude when it lights up. Fully charged, just like Nate said.

Now what? I could try getting my gag off so I can call 911, but I’m afraid of wasting precious time on something I might not be able to do. Instead, I hit the button for Messages, then start slowly and carefully pressing buttons. Bronwyn hadn’t been kidding, after that day she lost her phone in the river near Marshall’s Peak, about making all of us memorize her number. She drilled me until it was stuck in my brain.

Once her number is entered, I start the message. It takes forever to type with my hands bound, the car roaring beneath me and sending me flying whenever Gavin takes a corner too fast, but I keep at it, writing just enough to make sure that Bronwyn will understand and know what to do. NATE HURT GUPPIES FACTORY PKG LOT SEND HELP. ADDY. Then I hit Send and pray for reception.

My message disappears, and I hold my breath as I stare at the screen. One beat, two beats, three beats, four, five, six…The screen darkens, and the tears I’ve been holding back ever since Gavin hit Nate threaten to leak out of my eyes. I take more deep breaths, reminding myself that this was only plan A. Even if the phone won’t send messages, an emergency call might still work. I just need to focus my attention on getting the gag off. I put the phone down and lift my hands, twisting them behind my head and feeling for the edge of the knot. It’s there, but my angle is all wrong, and my breathing is starting to get a little panicked, making me light-headed. I stop moving and force myself to exhale slowly.

Then a couple of things happen at once. The phone buzzes, startling me so much that I recoil and crack my head against the side of the car. Almost immediately after that, the car lurches to a stop. I strain my ears, barely breathing, listening for any sounds that might give me a hint as to where we are. Stopped at a red light, maybe? Stuck in traffic?

Then the roar beneath my head subsides, leaving behind nothing except silence. The engine is off, and wherever we are now is very, very quiet.

I’m afraid to take even a split second to look at the return message before pressing the Off button to silence the phone. I try to maneuver it back into my pocket, but footsteps are approaching way too fast. All I can do is shove the phone into the corner and pray it’s not visible before the trunk opens with a loud creak and light floods my eyes.

“All right,” Gavin says. “Let’s do this.”