Colt tried to reach for me, and I pulled away in panic.

Fear filled his eyes. “Mags, it’s been a rough afternoon. Why don’t you sit down?”

I couldn’t move. I could barely breathe.

He reached for me again, but I jerked away like a wild animal caught in a trap.

Distantly, I heard Brady’s voice, Roy’s belligerent yelling, and Belinda’s soothing tones. Nothing they were saying registered.

Tilly appeared in front of me, casting a glance at Colt and then back at me. “Maggie, we’re going to sit down, okay?”

I didn’t answer, but I didn’t shrink away as she reached for me. I let her lead me back to the conference table and lower me into a chair. She sat in a chair in front of me while Colt stood behind her, watching me with concern.

“Do you want a drink of water?” Tilly asked.

I shook my head as tears filled my eyes. Roy had been there. He knew what had happened that night. I was sure of it. It explained why he’d hidden my bloody clothes, but what had he seen? What did he know? Why hadn’t he told anyone?

I felt a hand on my shoulder, and I jerked away, terror threatening to engulf me. Brady was next to me, and he lifted two hands in surrender before lowering to a crouch beside me.

“Talk to me, Maggie. What did Roy mean about you being a lucky girl?”

My chin trembled and my body began to shake.

My brother had witnessed at least some part of my nightmare, and until now, he’d never said a word.

“She’s in shock,” Brady said as he shrugged off his jacket. “I’m going to put this on your shoulders to warm you up. Okay?”

I looked over at him, knowing I needed to answer him, but I couldn’t get out the words.

“Maggie,” Tilly said with a tear-filled voice. “You’re scarin’ me, sweet girl.”

I knew I should put her fears to rest, but I couldn’t make the lie—I’m okay—come out. Tears clogged my throat, and I felt close to a hysterical breakdown.

My brother knew about my encounter with the serial killer.

I knew he couldn’t be the killer. He’d been fourteen at the time. Too young. Too scrawny. The killer had been tall and strong—strong enough to pick me up and carry me kicking and screaming down the stairs like I was a rag doll. Plus, the killer had spoken to me, and not in my brother’s voice.

No, Roy wasn’t the killer, but I was positive he knew who was.

“What happened?” Tilly asked Brady. “Did Roy threaten her?”

“No, he said she was lucky, then asked her if she ever wondered why . . .” He studied me with narrowed eyes, followed by a dawning look of horror that told me he’d guessed the truth. “Shit.” He tore out of the room as if his pants were on fire. “Colt, take her home and lock the goddamned doors!” he shouted as he ran down the hall.

“What was that about?” Tilly asked.

Colt seemed to finally understand what was happening, and he reached for me with a new urgency. “Mags. Let’s get you to your momma’s house.”

“What’s going on?” Tilly demanded.

“Brady thinks Roy is going to drive home after all,” Colt said. “He’s going after him to catch him in the act. He wants me to lock the doors in case Roy shows up at Lila’s house.” His lies were delivered so smoothly I couldn’t help wondering how many of them I’d fallen for. How many more he’d try to slip past me.

I knew Brady was going after Roy to find out what he knew, but my brother would never tell him anything. He’d go to his grave before he’d confess.

Colt finally convinced Tilly that I was just overly tired, and while Brady was likely overreacting, it was still a good idea for me to head home. She agreed, though the worried look didn’t leave her eyes. Colt found my keys in my purse, and I was sure he saw the gun inside, but he didn’t comment on it as he led me out to my car and deposited me in the passenger seat. I leaned back against the headrest, my mind filled with images from that terrifying night. Had Roy been there the whole time? I didn’t think so, but when had he shown up?

When Colt pulled into Momma’s driveway, I stayed in my seat, still in a fog. Did Roy hate me enough to wish the killer had killed me too? To hope he’d come back for me now?

My door opened, and Colt helped me out and supported me all the way to the front porch. As I waited for him to unlock the door, I realized I was still wearing Brady’s jacket on my shoulders.

As soon as we were inside, Colt locked the door, and I stopped and put my hand on the wood. Once upon a time, I had believed it could keep out the monsters. Instead, it had locked two of them inside with me.

“Mags, let’s go sit down. Are you hungry? We have some leftovers from yesterday.”

I shook my head, but didn’t say anything as I sat on the sofa.

Colt paced in the kitchen and eventually brought the whiskey bottle and two glasses to the living room, setting all three on the coffee table. He sat next to me and poured whiskey into both glasses before handing one to me. “Drink. It’ll help with the shock.”

I did as he asked because I wasn’t sure what else to do. I was still stuck in my head, in that night, reliving every horrifying moment and trying to figure out where my brother fit in.

We sat like that for some time, Colt watching me like he was worried I’d fling myself out the window. Eventually, probably about twenty minutes later, there was a knock on the door and Colt jumped off the sofa to answer it. I heard the door opening and then Brady’s voice. “How is she?”

“Not good. She hasn’t said a word. I’m worried. Maybe I should take her to the ER or something. Did you find him?”

Brady paused. “Yeah. Let me talk to her.”

I watched Brady walk toward me, and I could tell from the look on his face that he hadn’t gotten anything out of my brother.

“Maggie. Can I sit next to you?”

I didn’t answer, still clutching the half-empty glass of whiskey to my chest.

He took my silence as permission and sat next to me, taking the glass from my hand and putting it on the coffee table. “I found Roy at his house. Belinda drove him home. I grilled him about that night ten years ago, but he claimed to know nothing about what happened to you.”

I finally found my voice, but it sounded far away. “He’s lying.”

“I know, but I’ve got no reason to haul him in and question him.”

Tears filled my eyes.

“You need to stay away from him. I think you should file a restraining order.”

“Belinda,” I whispered.

His eyes hardened. “Was there the whole time and heard every word. I offered to bring her back here, and she chose to stay.” He paused as though he was considering his next words carefully. “I’d like to question Belinda. Martinez is dying to question you both. Maybe I should question her about what she knows about that night.”

I shook my head. “No. She doesn’t know anything more than what I’ve told her.” I didn’t think I could handle it if she did.

“She might—”

“No.”

“Maggie . . .” He looked upset as he watched me. “I’m so sorry.”

I didn’t answer. What was there to say?

“Roy wants the house,” Colt said.

Brady turned to him in confusion. “What?”

“Lila gave Maggie the house. Roy lost his shit when he found out. Not in a I want her toy because she has it kind of way. More like he wants this house for something specific.” Turning to me, he said, “What if Roy took something from the serial killer and stored it in this house?”

Brady stared at him in bewilderment.

“It can’t be that,” I said. I wasn’t sure my fragile psyche could handle the thought of something belonging to the serial killer being hidden in Momma’s house. “Well, it doesn’t matter. Roy can have it. I don’t want it.”

“Bullshit!” Colt shouted. “Your momma wanted you to have this house, and I’ll be damned if I stand back and let your brother bully you into giving it to him.”

Brady turned back to face me. “Colt’s right. If nothing else, you shouldn’t be making any major decisions right now. Let this settle for a few weeks, hell, a few months, before you decide.”

I didn’t respond, but I could see the wisdom in his words. I was in no shape to make a decision about anything.

Brady took a breath. “I want you to get a good night’s sleep, and tomorrow we’re going to that house. I have to see it, Maggie.”

“What house?” Colt asked.

“The house,” I said, my voice hoarse.

“Wait.” Colt shook his head. “The house where she was attacked? Have you lost your fucking mind?”

“No. I need to see it.”

“Then pull up Google Earth and have her point it out.” Colt clenched his fists at his side. “She’s not going out there with you.”

I gave him a pointed stare. “Last time I checked, Colt Austin, I was still capable of making my own decisions.”

“Maggie—”

“I’m not discussing it one way or the other now,” I said. “Not tonight.”

Brady nodded. “Fair enough. Do you work tomorrow?”

“I’m cleaning Ava Milton’s house tomorrow morning.”

Both men’s faces contorted in shock, but Brady’s expression quickly turned to anger.

“The hell you are,” he said. “You said cleaning her house was part of your rental agreement. You’re not living there.”

“He’s right,” Colt said. “Besides, after the way you dissed her at the masquerade, she’s liable to kick you to the curb if you show up.”

“A deal’s a deal. I’m going,” I said. There was a whole lot more to it than my dedication to our agreement. Ava Milton knew about just about everything in this town, and I needed to find out what she knew about my brother. Besides, I needed to pick up my stuff from the apartment anyway.

“Maggie,” Colt sighed out.

“What part of me making my own decisions do you not understand, Colt?” I demanded.

“I’m just worried about you.”

“And I appreciate it, but this is something I need to do.” I glanced at Brady. “I know neither of you understand it, but I don’t care. I’m going.”

Brady’s mouth pinched into a thin line. “Maria’s going to make you come in for questioning tomorrow.”

“About the murders at the ball?” Colt asked.

“Yeah,” Brady said, his back still to Colt. “Just treat it like it’s no big deal, and they’ll let you go.”

“What do you mean treat it like it’s no big deal?” I asked. My mouth dropped open. “Do you think I killed those people?”

“No.”

“But . . . ?”

He looked me in the eye. “I know you know something about it.”

I remained stock-still.

Brady stood, and when he looked down at me, his eyes had gone cold. “You’re an actress. Play a role. You were missing from the ball for a good twenty minutes before you left with a bloody arm. Tell her you were screwing Colt in the bathroom. If she knows anything about your arm, tell her you cut it while he had you pinned to the wall, but I doubt she’ll know, so wear something to cover it up like you did today.”

He knew about my bloody arm? The blood rushed from my head, and I felt faint. My mouth dropped open and I started to say something, but I didn’t know what to say. How closely had he been watching me?

Brady turned to Colt. “If anything happens to her, I’ll hold you personally responsible. And there will be consequences to pay.”

“Brady!” I protested.

But Brady didn’t even flinch; he held Colt’s gaze, waiting for a response.

Colt tensed, but he didn’t look as angry as I had expected. “I won’t let anything happen to her.”

Brady gave a sharp nod and then headed for the door.

“Your jacket,” I called after him.

“You can give it back to me when we hike out to the house tomorrow.”

He walked out the door, and Colt followed him and locked it.

“I don’t even know where to start,” he said, still in the entryway.

“Then don’t.”

He walked into the living room and sat down in the chair next to me. “He thinks you know about Rowena’s murder, but he’s telling you to lie about it?” He shook his head. “Scratch that. He knows we’re involved. You heard what he said.” He gave me a pointed look. “There’s no way he could know all of that unless he’s been following you.”

I didn’t answer.

“What’s his endgame?”

“I have no idea.”

“I know he wants you, but risking his career for a . . .”

I shot him a glare. “Choose your next words very carefully, Colt Austin.”

“Risking his career for a friend seems extreme.”

“Agreed,” I said in defeat.

“I’m not sure you can trust him.”

Tell me something I don’t know. “Unfortunately, he’s my only ally in the Franklin Police Department, so I have no choice.” At the moment. I still hoped Owen would come through.

“Be careful, Mags. This is a very dangerous game.”

I picked my glass back up and took a big swig. Apparently dangerous games were what I did best. And it looked like I’d just kicked it up a notch.