Page 111 of Our Darkest Summer

My stomach curled.

“Eric admitted to it,” he said, clearing his throat. “He told us my father had gone to them. He had wanted to talk,” his jaw flexed, “and they felt threatened. He was too close, just like you said.”

I swallowed. “I’m sorry.” The words felt awkward. But what else was there to say?

Issac nodded. “He’ll be charged with both murder and attempted murder. There’s no getting out of that.” But then,something in his expression shifted. His fingers stilled. “That said…” His voice dropped slightly. “There’s something else.”

My body tensed, and I straightened even more if that was possible.

“He was only thirteen when Lizzie disappeared,” Isaac continued, his voice unreadable. “Even if he contributed, he’d only be charged as a juvenile.”

My pulse ticked in my throat. “If?” I rasped.

“Eric has been labeled mentally unstable. Even if he tells the truth, we can’t rule everything as fact.”

No.

Isaac tapped his pen against the table. Once. Twice. A steady rhythm. A calculation.

“I’ll tell you what we have learned.” He leaned forward slightly. “Then you’ll tell me everything that happened last night and how it happened. Exactly.”

Something in his voice was different now. Like he was leading me toward something. Like he was trying to get me to understand a game we were playing. A puzzle.

I nodded, wiping my damp palms on my shorts. A puzzle I could do.

“Okay,” I said, but the word didn’t feel as solid as I wanted it to.

Isaac tapped his pen once more against the table. “Let’s begin.”

Chapter Fifty

Anonymous

July 5. 1:17 a.m.

The air was heavy.Like the walls had drawn in closer. Like the room itself was listening.

“Why did you leave all those notes for the Rhodes?”

A slow smile curled on his lips. Again. He was enjoying this. Toying with us. Like a cat tapping a trapped mouse with its claws. Not to kill it, just to watch it twitch. He leaned back in his chair, stretching lazily. Like he had all the time in the world.

“I wanted them gone,” he shrugged. “And they wouldn’t leave.” His fingers tapped slowly against the table. “So, I started a game.”

The way he said it—light and careless—made my stomach turn.

We had been at this for over three hours. He was dragging it out on purpose. He was enjoying the attention.

“But it wasn’t all me.” His words cut through the air, slicing clean as his eyes flickered, watching for a reaction. “Did they tell you that?”

No one moved. His smirk widened. We were giving him exactly what he wanted.

“The little Hale girl. She helped me a lot.”

The air in the room shifted.

Cora Hale?A flicker of surprise passed through Isaac’s expression. And he saw it. He fed off it. His smirk twisted with victory.

“Are you questioning her too?”