Chapter
Thirty-Three
We find Brogan’s house after I do a little internet sleuthing. He doesn’t live too far from Cass and Courtney, though he’s in a smaller gated community up off Hot Springs Road. The small neighborhood isn’t as exclusive, not as ritzy, though the view is amazing, just like everyone else’s is up here. When we pull into the driveway, Brogan is outside, shooting hoops by himself in the driveway. Cass parks the SUV on the street in front of Brogan’s house.
I get out of the car and start walking toward him. “Hey, Brogan.”
“What are you doing here, Penny?” He throws the basketball and it hits the closed garage door, the metal clanging loudly.
“We wanted to talk to you,” I say as I approach him.
His gaze flickers to Cass, who’s coming up behind me. “Why are you with this freak?”
Why’s Brogan being so awful? “Don’t be mean,” I tell Brogan, automatically irritated.
“Aren’t you the guy whose mom killed your dad?” Brogan asks, a giant smirk on his face.
“Aren’t you the guy whose recent hookup most likely killed the girl who’s crushed on you for years?” Cass throws back at him.
Brogan’s anger is immediate. He tosses the basketball to the side, so it lands in the front yard, and starts for Cass, his expression thunderous. Like he wants to throw down on him. “What the hell did you just say?” he says between clenched teeth.
Oh God. Here we go with the macho showdown. I am totally over this and we’ve been here less than a minute.
“You heard me.” Cass’s voice is eerily calm despite Brogan thrusting his face in his. They’re standing so close to each other I’m afraid Brogan’s going to chest bump him. Or Cass might chest bump Brogan. And then the fight will be on.
I so do not want to deal.
“Stop it, you guys,” I tell them, but they’re not listening to me.
They don’t even look in my direction.
“We just came from Courtney’s house,” I tell Brogan, hoping that will ease the tension simmering between them.
Thankfully, it works. Brogan turns away from Cass, stepping closer to me. “You did? Is she okay? Does she look all right?”
“She looks good, but she’s…very upset.” Understatement. My cheek still tingles where she slapped me.
The misery on Brogan’s face is immediate. “Did she ask about me?”
“She talked about you,” Cass says. “Mentioned something about you texting her to meet upstairs that night.”
Brogan frowns, looking at Cass then back to me. “What night are you talking about?”
I send him a duh look. “Friday night, when Dani…died.” I struggle with the word. It’s still hard for me to believe she’s really and truly gone. “Courtney said she received a text from you. Said you asked her to meet you upstairs.”
“We did meet upstairs, but that was before the—thing—with Dani.” Brogan at least has the decency to look sheepish, even though he doesn’t know we know all about that meeting in Courtney’s room. “Yeah, it was definitely before she found Dani. We, uh, went up to her room.”
“You and Courtney?” Cass asks. Our gazes meet for a quick moment before we look away.
I can’t believe he’s being honest.
Brogan nods, his cheeks turning red.
“What did you two do up there?”
“Messed around a little. We were drunk.” Brogan shrugs. “Then we came back downstairs. I never talked to her again. I still haven’t.”
Wait a minute. “So you didn’t text her to meet you in the east wing?”
“I don’t even know where the east wing is. Her house is so freaking big, I get lost in there. That’s why most of the time I just stay outside. It’s easier,” Brogan explains.
Cass and I share another look before he continues. “You sure you didn’t text her?”
“What are you, the police?” Brogan makes an irritated face. “Those assholes kept coming around over the weekend asking me a bunch of questions, but I haven’t seen them at all today.”
“Why weren’t you at school?” I ask.
“Didn’t want to. My mom’s worried about my mental state or whatever, so she kept me home. I’ll be back tomorrow,” he says just before he goes to the front yard and grabs his basketball. He starts dribbling it on the driveway, the rhythmic thwap of the ball bouncing again and again setting me on edge.
“We’re having a candlelight vigil for Dani tomorrow,” I tell Brogan, wishing he would stop dribbling that basketball. “Actually, it’s for all three girls. I hope you can make it.”
“I’ll be there. For sure. Will Courtney come?” He looks so hopeful. I almost feel sorry for him.
“I don’t know,” I tell him. “I mentioned it to her, but I’m not sure when she’s returning to school.”
“You should try to reach out to her,” Cass suggests. “She might like to talk to you, or even see you.”
Brogan’s entire face brightens, and he stops dribbling the ball. Thank God. “That’s a good idea. I’m gonna go Snapchat her right now. Talk to you later, bro. Maybe she’ll let me come over.” And with that, he dashes inside, the front door slamming behind him.
Cass and I turn to look at each other, the both of us still standing in the middle of the driveway. “That was weird,” I say.
“Sometimes I wonder if that guy had a lobotomy.” Cass shakes his head. “He acts like he’s brain dead most of the time.”
“I know. I don’t get what Courtney sees in him.” Or Dani.
We walk back to the SUV and climb inside before we resume our conversation.
“Do you believe him when he says he didn’t text Courtney to meet in the east wing?” Cass asks.
“Yeah, I do. I think he would’ve admitted it if he did. He doesn’t think about what he says. Like, ever,” I say. “Plus, someone texted Gretchen about that emergency Larks meeting the night she was killed. That’s too similar if you ask me.”
“You’re right.” Cass shakes his head as he starts the SUV. “That was a lead that went nowhere.”
“There’s still something to consider, though,” I say. Cass glances in my direction. “Either Courtney is lying and no one sent her a text to meet up, or someone pretended to be Brogan to lure Courtney upstairs.”
“But who? Could it have been Dani? Maybe she was angry. She could’ve found out that Courtney and Brogan were hooking up, and she got pissed off. So maybe she got a hold of Brogan’s phone and sent a text to Courtney?” Cass slowly pulls out into the street, frowning. “Do you think Dani would do that?”
His theory has merit. I can almost envision Dani doing exactly that. “Maybe. She’s been after Brogan for so long. Everyone knew she had a major crush on him. I wouldn’t blame her for getting mad at Courtney for moving in on him.” I stare unseeingly out the passenger-side window, my mind going over everything that happened Friday night. Most of it I would rather forget, but I need to remember.
I need to figure this out. For Dani.
“She was so drunk,” I finally say. “I don’t know if she was capable of grabbing Brogan’s phone and sending Courtney a text to trick her to come upstairs. He said he left her on the lounger passed out. Besides, Court scared Dani. Everyone is pretty much scared of Court, except for me.”
“She doesn’t scare you?”
“Court’s all bark and no bite.” Most of the time.
“Did you just compare the beautiful Courtney Jenkins to a dog?” Cass shoots me a grin.
I don’t particularly like that he just called Courtney beautiful, even though she is. I’m still a little jealous over what went on between them. Is he downplaying it? Were they more involved than he’s letting on?
A realization hits me and I turn to look at him. Really look at him. “You said to me last night that you couldn’t believe you were with me. That you were actually kissing me.”
His grin fades and his gaze meets mine for the briefest moment before he returns his attention to the road. “Yeah, so? It’s true.”
“But you’ve been with Courtney.”
He starts to look uneasy.
“And you had a…what? ‘Special friendship’ with Gretchen, too?” He says nothing, so I continue. “You try to act like you’re some quiet weird guy or whatever, but you’ve been with a few popular girls. More than a few.” I almost say, I don’t get it, but I stop myself in time.
Seriously, though. I really don’t get it. I mean, Cass is nice. He’s good looking. But he has this way of blending into the background. At least, that’s how I viewed him for the longest time. But maybe I’m a recovering narcissistic bitch who never paid him much attention before. Maybe he’s been on everyone else’s radar and I missed it. Missed him.
Why didn’t I see him until a few weeks ago? He sort of forced himself on me, if I’m being truthful. Did he do that on purpose? Was there some sort of plan put into place? Did he want to get to know me for ulterior reasons?
I watch him, fighting the unease that seeps into my skin, sinks into my bones. It’s already getting dark outside, and the looming storm clouds put me in a dark mood. I remember what Cass told me about his past. I think of all the things I’ve seen these last few weeks. The things I’ve heard, I’ve been told, and my three friends who died…
What-if. What-if—Cass is the one who did it? What if he’s the killer? It’s not too farfetched. He has a connection to Gretchen. He also has one to Courtney—but she’s not dead. He didn’t really know Dani. What about…
“Were you friends with Lex?”
He’s quiet for a moment.
Too quiet.
“Were you?” I ask again, my voice sharp.
“Sort of.” He exhales loudly. “We kind of hooked up. Once.”
“What?” I might’ve screamed the word. Actually, I’m pretty sure I did. He’s looking at me like I lost my mind, and he pulls over near the front gates of Brogan’s neighborhood so he can turn to look at me.
“It was the very end of our freshman year at some stupid party. She was drunk. I was drunk. We kissed. That’s it. It was nothing. She barely remembered it,” he explains.
“But you remembered.” Oh. My. God. It all makes sense. It all makes total freaking sense. He has reason. He has motive—all the popular girls who get with him and then dissed him over the years. He’s exacting his revenge. “You hooked up with all of them.”
“What do you mean, all of them?”
“All the girls who are dead! Did you hook up with Dani?”
He slowly shakes his head. “No. I didn’t. I hardly knew Dani.”
I blink at him, my mind a twisted mess involving too many things. Courtney and Lex and Gretchen. He’s been with them. Maybe Dani wasn’t the intended victim. Maybe it was supposed to be Courtney who should be dead.
If Cass is the killer, that makes sense.
“I hooked up with those girls because I was their freaking drug dealer, okay? They wanted meds and I got them meds. Prescription pills. Sometimes I had the weed connection, too, but mostly it was pills. I provided them with whatever they wanted and in turn, I got invited to the best parties. Got to hang out with the most popular girls, but it was all kept hidden. They kept me hidden,” he says, sounding bitter. “So there, Pen. That’s my dirty little secret. Do with it what you want. Go ahead and tell the world I’m the reformed drug dealer hell-bent on killing every girl who’s ever wronged me.”
My eyes go wide and I part my lips, but no words come out. Was I that obvious?
“I know exactly what you’re thinking,” Cass confirms. “It’s written all over your face. You’d be a terrible poker player, Pen. At least, you would be with me. I know what you’re thinking pretty much all the time.” He leans over the console, his gaze zeroed in on mine. His voice is low, and deathly serious. “I didn’t do it. I didn’t murder those girls. I considered them friends. I didn’t know Dani, but I have no reason to kill her. I had no reason to kill any of them. Hell, I was with you when Dani was murdered. I can’t be in two places at once, right?”
I close my eyes and press my lips together, trying to focus. He’s right. I know he’s right. But still. Why is he connected so closely to them? He looks suspicious and I wish he didn’t. I don’t want the connection.
I don’t want the doubt.
“Do you believe me?”
Opening my eyes, I find him watching me carefully, his gaze unwavering. I study his face, wishing I’d known him longer, so we could’ve had more time to build our friendship or whatever.
Oh my God, that sounded so corny in my head. What the hell is wrong with me?
I’m torn. That’s my problem. I want to believe him. I do. But it’s difficult. I barely know him. Worse, I don’t know what or who to believe anymore.
“Penelope.” He whispers my full name, something he rarely says. He always just calls me Pen. “Tell me. Do you believe me?”
“I want to.” I swallow hard, my throat raw. “It’s just…we haven’t known each other for very long.”
“Do you ever feel afraid when you’re with me? Have I given you any reason to make you think I might hurt you? Or I might hurt someone else? I can’t help my past, it’s just there. It’s my burden to carry for the rest of my life. I had nothing to do with what my mom did to my dad.”
“I know you didn’t. You’re right.” I want to touch him, but I’m scared. Nervous.
There are too many what-ifs running through my mind.
“You’re just as connected to them as I am. Even more so,” he reminds me, his voice soft. “I could think you did it.”
My heart drops. Seriously? “Do you?”
“No, of course not,” he says emphatically. “I trust you. We haven’t known each other long, but I can tell what kind of person you are. And you’re definitely not a murderer.”
We’re quiet for a moment, and all I can hear is our soft breathing, the sound of the occasional car passing by. I don’t know what to do or what to say. I decide to go with my gut instinct.
“I don’t think you’re a murderer,” I whisper shakily. “I don’t.”
The faintest smile curves his full lips. He almost looks triumphant. “Good to know, because I’m not. Come here.” He tugs on my hand and pulls me closer so he can kiss me. And it’s a searing kiss, his lips hot and almost hungry as they linger on mine. “We’ll figure this out together, okay?” he murmurs against my lips once the kiss is over. “I think we’re getting closer to the killer.”
“You do? Who is it?” His lips are a distraction and I want him to kiss me again. Make me forget everything but the touch of his mouth on mine. But maybe I don’t. When he kisses me, I can’t think straight.
“I have some theories.” He puts the SUV back into drive and turns onto the main road. “Want to grab some dinner and we can talk about it?”
He moves at lightning speed, I swear. One minute we’re fighting, the next we’re kissing. Now he’s easygoing, like we have zero problems, yet only a few minutes ago, I thought he could be the killer. Now he’s asking me if I want to go out to dinner.
I’m so confused. My head freaking hurts.
“Um, sure. Okay. Let me text my mom.” I pull my phone out of my pocket and send her a quick text, telling her I’m going to dinner with Cass. Usually I just say I’m going with friends. For some reason, I want to be specific tonight. “Where did you want to go?”
“That pizza place on Main?” he suggests.
“Sounds good.” I tell Mom that’s exactly where we’re going.
After all, I can’t be too safe, right?