Chapter Thirty-Six A History of Murder #2
He stuffs his hands into his pockets. “Can we talk?”
“Everett—”
“Listen, I’ve been doing the whole friendship thing like you asked,” he cuts in, letting out a frustrated breath. “But even as friends you barely talk to me. And it feels like you didn’t give me a chance. One day we’re fine, the next you’re acting like you can’t stand being around me.”
“It’s not that,” I say, shifting uncomfortably. “Things just…changed.”
He slants his head, looking at me as if trying to solve a puzzle. “Did they change, or did I miss something?”
I feel curious eyes boring into me. Everett draws attention no matter where he is. One of those stares belongs to Sofia, and the daggers she’s glaring at me have me stifling a sigh.
“Let’s not do this here,” I finally say. “It’s not the time.”
“It’s never the time with you.”
I open my mouth to respond, but I can’t find the right words. It isn’t Everett’s fault that there’s this whole side of me he’ll never understand. He deserves an answer. But the truth? That’s something I can never give him.
I watch him stalk off, feeling the familiar pang of guilt that only compounds when another face snags my attention.
Nikki, standing near the punch table with a few other cheerleaders.
She thinks she’s being discreet as she angles her body and pours something into her cup from a silver flask, but she’s not exactly a covert operative.
When she catches my eye, the edges of her lips curl into a smug, unbothered grin.
Her hazy eyes tell me she’s already buzzed, and the dance has barely gotten started.
I shake my head and look away. My heart skips a beat when I notice Chase entering the gym. He’s wearing jeans, a blue button-down shirt, and black combat boots, not exactly dance attire, but somehow he pulls it off.
He scans the room until his gaze finally lands on me. For a second, it feels like we’re the only two people here.
Before I can react, he sidles up to me, standing close enough that our hands brush. The contact is so slight, so minuscule, but it sends an electric current through me. Another burst of guilt follows right on its heels.
“What are you doing here?” I ask him. “You don’t do dances, remember?”
“You can’t randomly text me you’re going to the dance and not expect me to show up.”
“Why?”
His lips twitch as if he’s fighting a grin. “I was dying to see you in a pink dress.”
“I hate you.”
He gives me a long once-over. “I like it.”
I feign nonchalance. “It’s just a dress.”
“No,” he says, his gaze locking with mine. “It’s you.”
A blush creeps into my cheeks. I clear my throat, fighting to keep my voice steady. “We shouldn’t be talking. Everett’s here.”
“Yeah, and we’re not doing anything wrong. Just talking.”
“You really believe that? You don’t feel at all bad doing this to him?”
“I don’t. You two aren’t together.” Chase runs a hand through his hair. “I don’t engage in drama, and Ev wouldn’t want me to coddle him. He’s a big boy and he’ll move on. But I get it if you don’t want to be seen talking to me.”
“Chase…”
His hand grazes mine again, and he smiles when my breath hitches. “Relax. I won’t cause trouble. You don’t think I know how to keep things subtle?”
“Subtle?” I repeat with a skeptical laugh, doing my best to ignore the way he makes my pulse race.
“Okay, maybe ‘subtle’ isn’t my style, but I can make an exception for you.”
The smile tugging at my lips fades fast. “We can’t keep doing this,” I say, more to myself than to him.
“Maybe,” he agrees. “But I’m here anyway.”
Suddenly the gym lights flicker. I frown, seeking out my cousins in the crowd.
Connor is at a table with a few of his teammates.
Jasmine and Bo are on the dance floor, wrapped up in one another, but they pull apart when the music stops.
The lead singer of the band announces they’re taking a break but that we shouldn’t worry because we’re all in for a treat.
Yeah, right. There are very few treats to be had in Starling, Tennessee.
Jasmine catches my eye and darts over. “Come on, it’s time for the yearbook video!”
Right. The midyear recap. I uploaded more than a hundred candid photos for it, and I am a bit curious to see which ones the committee chose to use.
As the large screen on the stage flickers to life, Jasmine pushes me closer so we’ll have a better view.
“I narrated it this year,” she brags. “You’re gonna love it. I’m amazing.”
I smile faintly, trying to focus on her enthusiasm.
The gym feels unnaturally quiet, the only sound the soft whir of the projector.
I notice Sofia and Zed standing in the wings.
She says something to him, then descends the steps in her high heels and goes to join her fellow cheerleaders in the crowd. Excitement dances in her eyes.
The opening sequence flashes across the screen, showcasing shots of the football team, pep rallies, and dance rehearsals. It’s all normal high school stuff.
Until it’s not.
Out of nowhere, the yearbook video freezes. The screen flickers, then goes completely black for a second before flickering back on.
“Zed!” an outraged Sofia screeches from the crowd.
A photograph of Main Street, Starling, fills the screen, but it has a jagged, unsettling look to it. Words begin to crawl up the screen in bold block letters. They spell out:
cold secrets: a town’s dark history
My breath catches in my throat.
“What the hell?” Jasmine mutters under her breath.
My heart stutters with fear when a familiar logo appears underneath the title.
It’s a sparrow.
No. Goddamn him.
Sure enough, when the new narrator’s voice slices through the silence, it belongs to Logan Zellman.
“Starling, Tennessee,” Zed narrates, slow and deliberate. “A town with a dark history. A history of murder. Missing women. A killer who went to the grave without disclosing their locations.”
“That little asshole!” Sofia cries out, already pushing her way through the crowd. “Zed! Turn that off!”
“But there’s one secret, one puzzle, that can finally be solved. And tonight, thanks to Free the Sparrows, it will be.”