Jessica

Two incredible headlines blare on the front page of the Crystal Cove Gazette on Wednesday morning. The first makes me physically ill:

FORMER SENATOR’S DAUGHTER DRUGGED MINOR FOR SEX

The related article drops a bombshell. Tegan drugged Jake to win our bet, and then in a double cross, someone drugged her—the prank of all pranks. The revelations ooze like oil through Crystal Cove, dirtying and smearing our once idyllic beach town in suspicion and shock.

I’m pinned to my mattress, unable to leave my bedroom, my house. Every angry thing I said to Jake after the party comes back to me in violent breaths. I unleashed Tegan on him with that bet and then believed the worst about him. I never considered that she’d cheat to win. My boyfriend was drugged because of me.

I called Jake as soon as I heard. “I’m sorry! Oh my god, I was so awful to you,” I cried. “I didn’t know.”

After a long silence, he said, “But you know me.” And he hung up.

Mom says it’s not my fault. “You shouldn’t have made the bet, sweetie, but Tegan went too far. Her decision is not your responsibility.”

Maybe that’s true, but I goaded her, and Jake paid the price. At least he seems better, now that he knows the truth. He got his truck back from the police, and he pulled out of his driveway this morning with the windows down, his music thumping.

The online news media heats up again with the idea that Jake and I worked together for revenge against Tegan:

BULLIED COUPLE FIGHTS BACK

WHEN PARTY PRANK BACKFIRES, VICTIMS SEEK DEADLY REVENGE

IS CRYSTAL COVE’S CUTEST COUPLE ON A RAMPAGE?

But the second headline in the Crystal Cove Gazette is good news:

SLEEPING BEAUTY AWAKES!

Tegan is out of her coma and able to speak. The entire town, including me, is holding their breath, wondering what she’ll say, who she’ll accuse. I hope we get answers, because none of my efforts to crack this case have explained what happened to her, or Shawna either. The waiting is like watching a hammer before it falls, wondering whom it will strike.

I think back to the beginning, to what Shawna told Jake: Everyone is lying. Who is everyone? Not Jake, because she was speaking to him, and not Shawna, since she planned to tell the police the truth. Who does that leave? I make a list of Tegan’s closest associates.

And what was everyone lying about? Probably drugging Jake. To be fair, blackout drinking is nothing new for Jake, which is why it never occurred to me that he’d been drugged. But who spiked Tegan’s drink and put her in the bench, and who killed Shawna?

The latest press conference indicated that Marcus has an alibi for Tegan’s assault and Shawna’s death. Brendon has an alibi too. That leaves Chiara and Hailey, but they’re too afraid of Tegan to hurt her. My gut tells me that whoever crammed her into that bench is passionate about her—and not in a good way—as weird as that sounds.

Since Chloe’s at the gym, I call Alyssa on our landline. She’s a voice of reason, and she answers on the first ring. “Jess! The internet is on fire about you and Jake! Are you okay?”

“Yes. I mean no. I need to talk something out.” I take a breath, knowing that what I’m about to say sounds crazy. “I can’t stop thinking about the car accident. What if I hit Tegan and broke her arm? What if someone found her and put her in the bench, or she got confused and crawled in herself?”

Alyssa chokes on something. “Jesus, Jess! You hit a deer. Chloe saw it.”

“But I can’t get the accident out of my head. I’ve had nightmares since it happened. I—I saw an eyeball; it looked human. Maybe Chloe is wrong. It was pretty dark.”

Alyssa doesn’t respond for a moment, then says, “Okay, going with that train of thought and assuming that you hit someone, why does it have to be Tegan?”

My spine stiffens, and tingles splay across my stomach. “Who else could it be?”

Alyssa bites on something crunchy. “I don’t know, but they kept running after you hit them, right? There had to have been a reason, and we both know Tegan would have stopped. No way could you run her over, break her arm, and not get an earful.”

I laugh softly. “True.”

“Maybe the person kept running because they didn’t want to be identified. See? What if you hit Tegan’s attacker?”

“Seriously, Alyssa! Do you think that’s possible?”

She chews loudly. “No, I think you hit a fucking deer, but it’s plausible, I guess. Too bad you cleaned my dad’s car. The blood’s gone. We’ll never know.”

We talk a bit longer and then hang up. I strip off my running clothes and throw them onto the floor. I’m pissed about the BMW. That blood on the grille was the only evidence I had that might explain what I hit on the road. As I pull on fresh clothes, my heart stalls.

My jeans!

I wiped some blood on my jeans that night! I rip through a pile of unwashed clothes, and find the pants I wore to the party. Lifting them out, I close my eyes and send up a silent prayer. Then I lay them flat on my floor.

There it is—the crusty bloodstain. “Gotcha,” I whisper.

I call Officer Lee, and an hour later, she’s at my front door to collect the jeans. “So maybe you didn’t hit a deer,” she says wryly.

“How long will it take to find out whose blood it is?”

She purses her lips. “We can’t match it unless the person’s DNA is already in our database. We’ve been swabbing every party guest who will allow it, and we’re still processing those samples. It could take another week to finish, but the lab will expedite this test. At least we can find out if the blood is animal or human.” Lee smiles and encases the jeans in a plastic evidence bag.

“Hey,” I say as she turns to go. “I heard you’re the one who figured out Jake was drugged. I—I never even considered it.”

Lee lowers the volume on her police radio and leans against the front door. “Something similar happened when I was in college. My best friend drank at a party and woke up the next morning in the guest room with the door locked. The student who threw the party told her she’d gotten very drunk and he’d put her there to keep her safe.”

Lee’s eyes go vague, as if she’s looking at something far away. “My friend was grateful, even bought him a gift card. A year later, he got busted for drugging and kidnapping a freshman girl at college. During the investigation, police found naked photos of my friend, and several other students, on his computer. She was devastated.”

“That’s awful.”

Officer Lee nods and sighs. “Since then, I pay attention. This is more common than people think, and the perp is often someone the victim knows well, even trusts.”

The air around us goes still as I contemplate this, and then gratitude washes over me for Jake’s sake. “Thanks again,” I tell her.

“It’s my job, Jessica. I’ll have these jeans sent to the lab and we’ll be in touch.”

As she’s driving away, I glance up at Jake’s window. His light is on, but for the first time in a long time, he’s not watching me.