It can’t be Seth.
“What about you?” I ask her. “Were you and Jeremy really together the night Fiona died?”
She hesitates. And in that moment, I see it.
“Yes,” she says, but I’m already shaking my head.
“Don’t lie to me.”
She sighs. “Okay, no.”
I stare. “But you told the cops you were.”
“Yeah, I did, but it was because Jeremy was a mess that night, after that fight you got in. I’d never seen him like that.”
“Were you guys even friends then?”
“No, but he was walking past my house when he came back from the parade and he just looked so…lost. So I asked him if he wanted to talk about it. And he did. He sat on my stoop, told me about your fight, and drank until he was incoherent, then—” Another pause.
“Then what?”
“He kept saying he had to go talk to you. I tried to talk him out of it, told him he was in no state to do that, to leave it until tomorrow. But at some point, he stumbled off to go look for you. I didn’t see him again until the next day, all hungover at his place. He couldn’t remember what happened. At all.”
My mouth feels dry. “And you lied because—”
“Because I didn’t want anyone suspecting him, obviously. Walking around in the woods the night Fiona died with no memory of what happened? It doesn’t look good. But he didn’t do it, Addie. He had no reason to kill your sister.”
I don’t tell her about Seth’s theory that it was an accident. That he was looking for me. Because I don’t want it to be true.
But if what Gen is saying is true and the cops are seriously considering Seth—he’d have a real good reason to want me looking at someone else.
I hate that I think it.
But I can’t help but think it.
“Besides, Jeremy was with me the night Thatcher died,” Gen says. “So I know for sure that couldn’t have been him.”
Outside, the crickets are chirping, reaching a crescendo. Inside my head, my thoughts are all pushed up against each other, making it hard to focus on one.
I look at Gen. “Why are you here?”
“I told you. I saw that email and I thought you should know—”
“No, I mean, why do you care? You threw a temper tantrum over Jeremy and didn’t speak to me for a year and a half, and now you suddenly give a shit?”
Gen’s face has gone red. “I did not throw a fucking temper tantrum, Addie. I was justifiably pissed off that my two best friends I’d had my whole life started dating behind my back—”
“I told you the day after we kissed. I sat you down and talked to you about it because I knew you deserved to hear it from me—”
“And you knew I’d be upset about it!” she whisper-shouts. “You knew you and Jeremy together would ruin everything, and you did it anyway. Which only proves you never cared!”
“I did care, I’ve spent every day since then doing nothing but caring. Caring that you then basically called me and my mom a slut—”
Then I stop.
“You knew,” I say.
Gen’s silence says it all.
“You knew my mom and your dad had an affair, and you never told me?”
“My mom didn’t tell me until after you told me about Jeremy.”
I consider her. “Where was your mom the night Fiona died?”
Gen blinks. “She was home. I saw her.”
I stare at Gen, but there’s no indication she’s lying now.
Then her face hardens again. “My mom has nothing to do with this. I just saw that thing about Seth and wanted to warn you.”
“You obviously don’t give a shit about me anymore. So again I ask: Why?”
Her eyes lock with mine. “Maybe because I don’t like seeing rich assholes get away with murder. Or maybe because I do still give a shit about you, and you’re just too stubborn to see it.”
Then she spins and walks out into the dark night, leaving me staring after her.
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