Chapter 48
Kinsley
Chapter Forty-Eight
When Cora stopped in the middle of a clearing, I ran my fingertips over the surface of the gold ring in my hand, stopping on the strange bumpy part on it.
“I saw her come this way, I swear.” She turned around toward me, and I tilted my head, closing my palm around the ring.
“Why did you do it?” I asked, and her brows furrowed.
“What do you—” she started, but I shook my head, which made her close her mouth.
“Why did you leave the ring at Braxton’s house?” I asked, and her eyes widened.
Before she could start to deny it, I raised the ring to my lips and licked it.
“You left dough on it.” I showed it toward her before sinking it back into my pocket, relieved that it was really cookie dough, as I suspected.
“I—”
“Who do you work with?” I asked, looking around. “Samantha? Eric?” I walked around the clearing. “Or someone else?” Cora moved toward me, shaking her head.
“You don’t understand.” Her voice was desperate, and the change in her behavior stopped me. “He threatened me.”
My brows shot up. Eric?
“I just got accepted into NYU, I couldn’t risk losing the scholarship and—” A branch broke somewhere at the edge of the clearing, and Cora closed her mouth.
We both turned around, but no one was in sight.
“Please don’t tell Aaliyah,” she went on. “I didn’t know what he was planning, especially not with poor Marley,” she swore. “First he just wanted to know when you were away, but he didn’t tell me why. Then he made me steal the security tapes from the Sunnyside?—”
“Where is ‘he,’ Cora?” I cut her short, and she pursed her lips, glancing around.
“Here,” she whispered, but I still couldn’t see anyone.
I turned, walking around the clearing. Eric Jones, also known as Ethan Bowman. He was everywhere, in the library, at the party…and I almost missed it. But there was one thing we still didn’t know: The why? We knew about their mother’s disorder, and their now-closed flower shop. We knew it must have been their mother who sent the notes to Lizzie, and we knew about them sending the letter to Josh, but we still had no idea why.
“Please, Kinsley, don’t tell Aaliyah,” Cora pressed. “I didn’t want to help him, you have to believe me, but-but he helped me with some of my paintings for my application to NYU and he threatened to tell the school board. I would have lost my scholarship.” She let out a soft cry. “Please, Kinsley, you have to understand—” Suddenly she stopped talking, and I twirled around.
There was a person standing behind her, covering her mouth with one of his palms.
“It’s nice to meet you again,” he said from behind the white theater mask Thomas had described, and I tipped my head. “When I saw you staring at a picture of my mother, I knew it wouldn’t take long for you to put the pieces together,” he said, and I nodded, narrowing my eyes.
“Hello, Eric,” I replied.