Before, it wouldn’t have been uncommon for me to walk into my room and find her or Jeremy here, hanging out. Gen has her own room in her mom’s trailer, but it’s basically a closet. Sometimes she’d come here just for some extra space. She always knew where we kept the spare key.
But that was before.
“Gen. What are you doing?”
She takes a deep breath. “I need to talk to you.”
She looks—not pissed, exactly. But not happy with me, either. She’s shifting from foot to foot, her eyes darting toward the outside door, which she must have come in through.
“About what?” I demand.
Sadie trots forward, greets her with a nudge to the hand. A faint smile comes over Gen’s face, and she scratches Sadie’s head. No wonder Sadie didn’t bark. She loves Gen.
The way I used to.
All at once, I’m exhausted. I sit down on my bed, run my hands through my hair. It feels like a hundred years since I met up with Kendall and Seth in the clearing, when Kendall told us about Gen saying Jeremy was with her that night. But now it all comes rushing back to me.
Gen hesitates, hovering in the space between the door and my bed. “You can sit,” I say impatiently. “So long as you tell me what you’re doing here.”
She sits gingerly beside me, still stroking Sadie’s head, and takes a deep breath. “So I know we’re not exactly talking—”
“And whose fault is that?”
Her eyes widen, and some of the nervousness goes out of them. “Um, yours? For hooking up with Jeremy and ruining everything?”
I can’t believe her. “Me and Jeremy getting together didn’t ruin everything, Gen. You being a bitch to me did.”
“Oh, please.” She crosses her arms, looks away. “Yeah, I said some shitty things, but I was hurt. You were my best friends and you betrayed me.”
I stand. “Look, I don’t know what you’re doing here, but if it’s just to have this fight again—”
“It’s not.” She stands, too. “I’m actually here to help you.”
“How?”
She hesitates, then blurts out, “I notice you’re spending a lot of time with Seth Montgomery.”
“Are you following us or something?”
“No,” she shoots back. “Jeremy told me.”
Of course he did. “Why do you care?”
She pauses. “You know my uncle’s the lead detective on the case.”
“Yeah, I know that, thanks.”
“So—I may have seen something when he was over the other day.”
“Seen what?” I demand.
She exhales. “There was this email—just, like, a note from him to his partner. And it said something about how they were close to arresting Thatcher for Fiona’s murder when he died.”
I stare at her.
Thatcher. My original theory. But I’m already shaking my head. “No—no. It couldn’t have been him. We— I was there that night. The night he died. I heard him yell.”
She bites her lip. “So maybe whoever killed him was his accomplice, trying to keep him quiet. And who do you think they’re looking at?”
It clicks into place, and my heart stops.
“Seth?”
Gen nods.
Then I come to my senses. “That’s not possible. Seth and I were together that night. And the night Fiona died.”
“You were together one hundred percent of the time?”
“Yes. We were together when we heard Thatcher yell, and then we were chasing after him.” I pause. Seth did get ahead of me right before we reached the ravine. But I caught up to him just seconds later. Right? No more than ten seconds—maybe a little more, but definitely not enough time to push someone. “And the night Fiona died, we were together the whole night,” I finish.
“But you must have fallen asleep at some point.”
“I’d have noticed if he left—”
“Addie, you sleep like a rock. Especially when you’ve been drinking.”
I pause. “I know, but—no. It’s not Seth.”