“I guess we’re going to find out,” muttered Candy, swiping the file back and forth.

“Knock it off, Skittles,” Carson said.

Candy flipped him off with a perfectly manicured middle finger.

“What do you find strange?” I asked, ignoring the two.

“Besides the fact that Cassie would’ve been anywhere near the lake this time of the year? She was a great swimmer.” Julie opened her eyes, glancing at me. “The girl was part fish.”

Veronica settled back down, on the edge of the bench closest to Del. “Well, I doubt she went there to go swimming.”

“That’s not what Julie means,” I said, remembering the vision I had of falling. “If Cassie was in the lake, she should’ve been able to swim, right?”

Del cleared his throat. “There are some hellish rip currents and superdeep parts, but she knew that lake and which areas to avoid.”

“Then maybe she was already…out of it before she hit the water.” Or dead, but I couldn’t quite say that.

“Well, you had to have been with her,” Veronica said, snatching the file away from Candy and shoving it in her bag. “That’s so annoying, not to mention unsanitary.”

“How is that unsanitary? I’m just filing my nails.”

“It’s gross. Little bits of your nails are flying all over the place.” Veronica shuddered as if that was more disturbing than a body in a lake. “I think there are pieces on me.”

Smiling at the absurdity of it, I glanced up and caught Carson’s eyes. They glimmered in the light. When I looked away, I realized Del was watching us. A pang of guilt flashed through me. “Did anyone see her that day?”

“Besides you?” said Veronica, and there was no mistaking her tone.

I sat back. “What are you trying to say, Veronica?”

“I’m not saying anything, Sammy.” She pulled out an oversize pair of sunglasses and put them on. “She was obviously with you. You were walking down the road that leads to the lake.”

“She knows that,” Scott said, leaning forward. Contempt dripped from his voice. “But she has amnesia, if you haven’t figured that out yet. I can probably give you a definition if you’re still confused.”

“You know, I’m with Del on this. What are you guys doing here?” Veronica raised her eyes.

“We’re here because someone needs to be here for my sister,” he shot back.

That surprised me…in a good way. From all accounts, Scott and I had been missing that twin-bond thing people talked about.

“I’m here for your sister, Scott.” Del sounded offended. “I’ll always be here for your sister.”

Scott’s lips thinned. “That is almost comical coming from you.”

“Babe,” Julie said, pulling on his arm.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Del demanded.

“Del, if I were you, I’d just sit back and shut up.” Carson stretched lazily, but he was coiled, ready. “That’s my advice.”

What in the world were they talking about?

“I saw her,” Lauren’s quiet voice intruded before Del could respond, and those softly spoken words silenced everyone.

My heart leaped in my throat. “You did?”

A pink flush stained Lauren’s cheeks. “I did. It was around seven at night. She stopped over and dropped off a purse she’d borrowed—my D&G. She was…really irritated about something.”

“You don’t know what she was upset about?” I asked.

Lauren shook her head, eyes on the ground. “She wouldn’t say. I think it had something to do with a guy. You all know how she got when she was having guy troubles.”

“Okay.” Del stood, shoving his hands through his hair. “Does it matter why she was upset? It doesn’t change anything.”

I stared up at him. “You’re right—it doesn’t change the fact that she’s dead, but it might help us figure out what happened to her.”

Del rubbed his jaw. “But her being upset over a guy or whatever doesn’t have anything to do with what happened to you.”

“How do you know?” Scott asked, and he had a point.

“It’s not just what happened to me,” I said. “It’s what happened to Cassie, too. Any information—”

“So, what? You’re going to play Nancy Drew?” Veronica asked, her eyes darting between Del and me.

If I didn’t know better, I’d say that Veronica would agree with just about anything Del said. Striving for patience, I ignored her. “Do you remember anything else? Like what she was wearing?”

“She had that red dress on. The sweater one,” Lauren answered.

Candy’s chin jerked up. “The knockoff Prada?”

I would’ve rolled my eyes at the disdain in Candy’s tone if not for the fact that every time I’d seen Cassie—or brought up a memory of her, if that was what the flashes were—she’d had on a red dress. That had to mean I wasn’t taking a sharp left into crazy town—good news.

“Are you okay, Sam?” Carson asked.

Nodding, I let the conversation move on without me. Del eventually sat beside me again and snaked an arm around me. Leaning my head against his shoulder, I closed my eyes. My mind was spinning. The day we both had disappeared, Cassie had been mad. That alone didn’t tell me anything, but the fact that she had actually been wearing the same dress I kept seeing her in was unnerving. And beyond that, grieving for someone I couldn’t remember but who’d been an intricate part of my life was difficult. There were moments when I could almost taste the loss, when it could’ve consumed me and pulled me under. Then the sorrow would ease off and be replaced by confusion and the need to be away from all these people—to be alone.

Carson had pressed the tips of his fingers together, shielding his mouth when I opened my eyes again, drawing my attention right to his lips. Our eyes met for a flicker of a moment, and then he looked away. Del’s arm tightened around me, and another, different kind of guilt surfaced. Feeling torn in different directions, I sat up, putting a little distance between us.

“Okay,” Julie said, stretching her legs and standing. “I’m going to say what no one else seems willing to say.”

“That you actually tolerate Scott?” Carson said blandly.

“Ha.” Scott smirked.

“No,” Julie sighed. “Do you think Cassie was…murdered?”

Our mismatched group fell silent. My heart rate picked up. Murdered. It made sense. If Cassie was such a great swimmer, she wouldn’t have drowned, and then there was me. Was it possible that I had witnessed what had happened to Cassie? And if so, did her murderer then try to deliver me to the same fate?

No. It could’ve been an accident. But then, what happened to me? Had we both had an accident? She died. And I survived.

I glanced up. Carson was watching me again. Stark concern deepened the hue of his eyes. I wondered if he had realized the same thing—if they all had. When I glanced over at the girls—my friends—there was something in their eyes that had nothing to do with concern for my well-being. For a minute, I didn’t want to believe it, but there was no mistaking the shadow in their gazes.

Suspicion.

Mom was secluded in her bedroom when Scott dropped me off after school. Having the house to myself until he returned from baseball practice and Dad came home left me ample time to mull everything over.

Cassie was dead—most likely murdered. And I’d been there. The visions—fragmented memories—had to be clues to what happened. I just needed to piece them together.

Curling up on the window seat in the sunroom, I stared at the small garden and the main road beyond the small stone fence. My history textbook lay unopened by my feet. I chewed on my fingernail. Carson had seen me do it during bio, saying it was a habit that I’d always had. So it was an old part of me that had somehow stuck.

My thoughts went straight back to Cassie.

She’d been upset the day we disappeared, probably because of a boy. Trey—the on-and-off-again boyfriend who’d conveniently been sick the day her body was found? Had I gone to see her, pulling girl duty? But what had happened after that? What explained the visions of blood on the rocks, Cassie yelling at me, and then the feeling of falling?

And why had we met up at the state forest, of all places?

Those memories couldn’t be hallucinations. I wasn’t crazy, but the more I turned things over in my mind, the stranger I felt. Then there were the two notes….

Sunlight reflected off the roof of a white car coming up the driveway, catching my attention. I straightened, dropping my hand as it came fully into view. It wasn’t Dad’s Bentley, and it was too soon for Scott to be back.

The car stopped in front of the house, by the gaudy fountain. A man stepped out, buttoning his blazer. Dark sunglasses hid his eyes, but I recognized the slicked-back dark hair and broad forehead.

Detective Ramirez was here.

“Shit,” I muttered, jumping from the window seat. Hurrying through the maze of archways and rooms that never appeared to be in use, I rushed to get through the house before he woke up Mom. I opened the door, slightly out of breath. “Detective?”

He took off his sunglasses, sliding them into the breast pocket of his jacket. “Miss Franco, do you have a couple of minutes?”

Stepping aside, I glanced behind me. “Yeah, but my mom’s asleep and Dad’s at work.”

“That’s fine. I just have a few questions, off the record.” He stepped in, eyes taking in the foyer and not missing a single detail. “A good place to sit?”

I doubted anything I said to a detective was off the record, but I didn’t have anything to hide and I wanted to help him. Bringing him to the small sitting room, I sat on the couch while he took the recliner. “Is this about Cassie?” I asked, folding my hands.

Ramirez nodded. “I assume you’ve heard?”

“Yes. It was all over school today.”

“And how are you holding up?”

How was I holding up? I almost wanted to laugh, but I figured that would be inappropriate. “Good, I guess.”

His lips curved up on one side. “I wanted to go over a few things with you. See if it sparks anything. You okay with that?”

“Yes.” I picked up the delicately embroidered pillow, placing it in my lap. “I want to be able to help.”

“Good.” There was that one-sided smile again. “Cassie was found a few yards down from the waterfalls in the lake, tangled up in...” He stopped as I felt the blood drain from my face. “Well, the details don’t matter. Right now, we’re not sure what the cause of death was, but from preliminary investigation, it doesn’t appear to be a drowning.”

“Cassie was a good swimmer.” I squeezed the pillow. “That’s what her—my friends said today.”

He nodded slowly. “Her mother said that Cassie was an excellent swimmer who was also very well versed in the terrain of the state park and the trails up there.”

“But we were up there at night,” I said, frowning. “Del said I was with him until that evening.”

“Yes, I talked to him while you were missing.” He leaned forward, dropping his hands between his knees. “Do you have any idea why you two would go up there at night? As familiar as Cassie and you were with the terrain, it would’ve been dangerous. One slip…”

I swallowed hard. “I really don’t know why, and I’ve been trying to figure it out all day. Lauren…Lauren Cummings said she was upset. Maybe we went up there for some girl time.” Girl time sounded stupid even to me, but I was out of ideas.

“I’ve also spoken to Lauren, but from what I could gather, it wasn’t like either of you spend time at the lake during the night—at least not this time of year.” He paused, meeting my eyes. “Now, you said you had this…feeling of falling when we talked and that you had heard the water. Do you think it’s possible that you were near the waterfalls?”

“I guess so, but I don’t even know where the waterfall is…now. Or how to get to the lake.”

His head tilted to the side as his gaze dropped for a moment. “Do you remember anything else? Even if it seems like a minor detail, it could be helpful. And you want to help, right?”

“Yes.” Realizing I was holding the pillow like a shield, I shoved it aside. “I’ve told you about the rocks. I’ve seen those before, but they’re covered in something that looks like blood, but I’m…I’m not really sure. I know that’s not much.”

“No. That’s something.” Ramirez smiled tightly. “Anything else?”

I lowered my eyes, chewing on my lip. Telling him about seeing Cassie would most likely make me sound like a lunatic.

“Samantha, anything would help.”

Heavy footsteps thundered through the house, alerting me to my father’s arrival. Detective Ramirez stood, twisting toward the open archway.

Dad came in like a furious storm, cheeks flushed with anger and narrowed eyes glinted at the detective. “What are you doing here?”

“It’s okay, Dad. He just had a couple of questions.”

“No. It is not okay.” He placed his hands on his hips, pushing his suit jacket back. “Do I need to explain the law to you, Ramirez?”

“I’m well versed in the law, Mr. Franco,” the detective replied blandly.

“Is that so?” His voice took on a hard, unyielding edge that I knew I had to have heard before. Probably when I’d driven that car into a tree. “You cannot talk to my daughter without one of her parents present or her lawyer. Ever.”