32. Kira

32KIRA

Elody stands back, angling away from the cabinet like whatever’s in there might explode.

“What is it?” I ask.

“A safe, I think?”

Running over to the kitchen, I crouch and look into the cabinet. My breath catches. A safe. It’s small, maybe the size of a toaster, dark and sleek with a number keypad on the front.

“This wasn’t here before, right?” Max asks.

“I don’t think so,” Elody says.

Logan frowns. “Okay, so what is it, then?”

In answer, a new message pings on each of our watches.

A gift from your generous Sponsor

I look up at the nearest camera, its little red eye blinking down at us. Heart thudding, I reach inside the cabinet and lift out the safe. It’s surprisingly light, and something slides around on the inside. Something small that feels a lot like …

“A phone,” I breathe. “I think there’s a phone in here.”

Another message lights up our screens.

Not so fast—every gift comes with some conditions:

1. Figure out who I am, and you get in

In spite of all that’s happened so far, I feel hope washing over me. We could get out of here. Maybe the Sponsor has changed their mind, realized this entire plan is too evil, even for them.

2. You have until sundown. If you get in, you get out

I hold my breath as the next message chimes:

3. If you don’t … you’re all canceled

Canceled.The word is so pervasive, it’s almost a joke, but now, it sends a chill through me. Because now, four bodies later, we all know what it really means.

“Cool,” Aaron says, panic cutting through his sarcasm. “So if we don’t figure this out, we all die? That’s what this is, right?”

Another message:

Stumped already? Don’t worry. By now, each of you has received a clue about why you’re here. Let’s just hope you’re smart enough to put it together in time.

A clue? I haven’t gotten a clue. At least, I don’t think I have. I look around the group for any signs of recognition. Aaron tightens his jaw, and Elody twists a strand of hair tightly around her finger. Do they look a little nervous? And Max … Max looks just as confused as I do.

“I didn’t get a clue,” he says.

Corinne shakes her head. “Me neither.”

“Same,” I add, knowing it sounds like a lie, even if it’s the truth.

Elody laughs. “Right. Because you’re all so nice and perfect.”

“Yeah, I don’t buy it,” Aaron says.

Elody cuts him a look. “Okay, so what was your clue, then?”

“What was yours?”

“Obviously the DVD.” She rolls her eyes. “Now, can the rest of you stop being all weird and just, like, tell the truth?”

Aaron sighs. “Fine. I found something earlier. It was some script pages from The Magnificent Millers, like, shoved into my bedroom drawer. I don’t know what that was about, though.”

Elody claps sarcastically. “See, babe? That wasn’t so hard. Now, who else?”

Silence. Uneasiness creeps up like a shadow behind me.

“Seriously?” Her jaw drops. “Wow. Two seconds ago, everyone was on my ass about being a liar, but I guess you were all just projecting.”

“I don’t know what to tell you,” Max snaps. “I haven’t gotten a clue.”

“Well, Spielberg, maybe you missed something,” Aaron shoots back.

Corinne lets out a small breath. “Okay, crotchetiness aside, I think Aaron has a point. Maybe we missed something. We just need to think harder. Logan, what about you? Have you found anything?”

Logan’s eyes flick to mine, and I wonder if she’s still worried that I’ll tell them what she told me about Zane in the pool house. Why was she so worried?

“Logan,” I say softly. “Maybe they should know.”

She looks from me to the others, like she’s making some invisible calculation, and then breathes out. “Graham thought Zane killed McKayleigh.”

“What?” Max asks. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

“Yeah, I know.”

Corinne narrows her eyes. “Why didn’t you tell us before?”

“Because she knows it’s bullshit.”

“Aaron—”

“Sorry,” he cuts me off. “But what kind of made-up crap is that? Logan’s just trying to cover her own ass.” He laughs. “Zane’s dead, and Logan probably killed him. I can’t believe she told you that and you just believed her.”

Aaron’s smug tone brings an angry flush to my cheeks, but I can’t ignore his logic. Zane died after drinking from Logan’s bottle. She’s the only person here with a clear reason to want all three Bounce House members gone, and she hated Cole, too.

“See?” Logan looks at me with so much hurt in her eyes that all of my logic dissipates. “I told you. They think I did it.” Her stare drops to the ground. “You probably do, too.”

“Okay, but, like…” Elody takes a step back, scanning the room like she’s looking for something to protect herself. “Did you?”

“Wait. Let’s just take a second to—” I move forward, freezing when Logan’s hand shoots back into her pocket. Everything in my head shuts off except for the frantic pounding in my ears. The gun.

When I look up from Logan’s hand to her eyes, they’re wide, wild, but it doesn’t look like she’s about to attack. It looks like she’s the one who’s been cornered.

I take a breath and ask, in the steadiest voice I can manage, “What’s in your pocket?”

She pulls her hand out. “Nothing.”

“Wait, no,” Max says. “There’s something in there.”

Logan shakes her head quickly, ponytail whipping.

Max takes a careful step toward her. “Can we just—”

“No!” Logan jerks away, her hand diving back into her pocket.

“Get it,” Aaron orders. “Someone grab her!”

Max moves forward, reaching for Logan, but she shoves him away.

“Stop it! Don’t touch me!”

Aaron lunges at Logan from the side, and with a yelp, she pulls away from him, her hand shooting out of her pocket again, this time with something in her fist. Max grabs for it, his hands closing around her wrists, pulling, but she fights him, and I can’t watch this.

“Stop!” I shout.

Max and Logan both turn to me.

My throat burns as I lock eyes with Max. “Just—don’t grab at her like that. Let her show us herself.”

Max’s shoulders slump, shame darkening his face, and Logan stares at me, something like gratitude or relief or just exhaustion filling her eyes. Slowly, she unfurls her fingers, revealing what looks like a choker necklace, a black cord with a silver J charm.

“What is it?” I ask her.

“It was my friend Jenna’s.” Logan squeezes her eyes shut. “She died.”

Something cold and tingling starts to crawl up my spine.

“How?”

She shakes her head, begging.

“You can tell us,” I say.

A tear falls from her cheek and into her open palm.

“Logan,” I plead. “This might be the only way we can get out of here.”

She takes a shaky breath, and finally says it, so small I can barely hear:

“We killed her.”