Page 43

THIRTY-SIX

When I arrive at McCallie’s Pub, it feels as though I’m approaching a firing squad, not a group of friends.

Everyone is there. They’ve staked out our familiar booth in back, each person sitting around the table to form a letter C.

I stand at the table, cringing at the awkward hush that falls over the group.

“We should talk,” Victoria says, stating the obvious.

“I know,” I tell them. “Let me explain?—”

“Did you actually tell the police you think one of us is a murderer?” Danielle cuts in.

“And that you think we’re using the stories from group as inspiration?” April adds.

“It sounds ridiculous,” I say. “I know?—”

“You realize I could be placed on formal reprimand for getting involved in a criminal case,” Danielle says.

“Likewise, the university could be at fault for being affiliated with our group,” Victoria says. “The whole reason I started Mystery Maidens was to connect emerging writers.”

“And my kids,” April says. She doesn’t expand further, but I know what she’s implying.

In a custody battle with her soon-to-be ex, the last thing she needs is to be accused of committing a crime.

The others don’t know about April’s personal life, but I do because she trusts me.

They all trust me, in some capacity, and I’ve broken that trust.

The entire time the group members lay into me, Marley sits in silence. Whenever she opens her mouth to speak, another person cuts in. All she can do is stare back at me with pitiful, worried, eyes.

“Let’s give her a chance to talk,” she says at last.

I go to sit in the booth, but none of the group budges. I grab a nearby chair and put it at the end of the table.

“I can only imagine how upset you all are,” I begin. “But someone is targeting me, and as upsetting as it is to say, all signs point to it being someone in this group.”

“Targeting you how?” Danielle asks. “And why?”

“Well, first my tires were slashed. Just like in April’s story. Then a person was hit by a car right outside my apartment, like in Victoria’s story.” As I speak, everyone listens along, unconvinced. “After I shared The Mistake with the group, Jessica Wilder was murdered in the exact same way.”

“Right now, it sounds like you’re rattling off a bunch of conspiracy theories,” Victoria says. “None of that is directly linked to you.”

“You’re right,” I say. “At first it wasn’t.

And I knew how crazy the whole thing sounded, so I wanted to test my own theory and see what might happen.

That’s why I wrote Murder at the Bridge and shared it.

And guess what happened? A man died that same night, and the police found a copy of my short story in his pocket. ”

Despite the women’s simmering anger, everyone seems to sit up a little straighter. They might feel betrayed, but no one can insist it’s only a coincidence when my story was found at a crime scene.

“When the police talked to me, they were acting as though you were a suspect,” Danielle says, her gaze analytical, even a tad suspicious, “not a victim.”

I exhale. “The police have video of me on the bridge. Between that and my story being found in the victim’s pocket, I think they’re working off the theory I’ve snapped.”

“Maybe you have,” April says. “I mean, you were quick to tell the police you thought we were involved. Maybe it has been you this whole time.”

“It’s not like I wanted to go to the police, but come on! We read and write this stuff for a living. How many times have you been reading a book, and you scream at the protagonist to go to the cops? That’s what I did, and they didn’t take me seriously, until another body turned up.”

“It’s suspicious that there are now two deaths linked to our group,” Victoria says, still homing in on this point. She cuts her eyes at me. “And they’re both stories you wrote.”

“Which brings me back to my original question,” Danielle says, recapturing my attention. “Why you?”

I take a deep breath, my gaze fixed on the table.

“After Jessica Wilder was killed, the newspaper ran that article about a similar attack that happened ten years ago. Remember? We talked about it during group.” I force myself to look up, to meet each of their eyes and really look.

“The victim’s name was Layla Williams. What I didn’t tell you… is that she was my college roommate.”

“Layla,” Victoria repeats slowly. “That’s the name of the woman who dies in The Mistake .”

“Yes.” My voice is shaking, but I force myself to hold it together, to continue this conversation, wherever it may take us.

“You were living with her at the time she was murdered?” Danielle asks, tilting her head slightly.

“Yes.” I force myself to keep going. “I was with her that night at the bar. Before she was killed.”

“So everything you’d written in that story,” April says, pausing as though it’s too ridiculous to speak aloud, “it all really happened?”

“Yes. What I said about having a nightmare was true. I wrote The Mistake to try and process what I was feeling, and I believe that’s what started all of this.”

“You’ve written about real experiences before,” Victoria says, staring right through me, no doubt referencing the near-assault I told her about, “but your friend was murdered. Don’t you think that was crossing a line?”

“I don’t know. I?—”

“Why would you write about something like that?” April asks, not even hiding the disgust in her voice. “Something so personal.”

“And dark,” Danielle adds. “We all weave in parts of our real life with our fiction, but writing an entire story to share with us?—”

“She already told you why she wrote it,” Marley jumps in, trying to defend me. “She didn’t mean for it to go anywhere.”

“Clearly, it’s triggered someone,” Victoria says, looking around the table at the group of women she brought together, then back at me. “You told the police you think it triggered one of us!”

“That is what I think,” I say, lacking a better response. Their defensiveness and outrage is warranted, but it doesn’t change my suspicions. One of them must be responsible for the copycat crimes. There’s no other way. “I didn’t intend to start some crime spree.”

“Not to mention you’ve thought this for weeks and been coming to meetings like everything is fine,” Danielle adds. “Did you ever consider you might be putting us in danger?”

I sit up straighter, desperate. “I was careful. I told the police?—”

“We already know what you told the police,” April cuts me off.

“I don’t know if you’re crazy or just completely careless.” Danielle stands, putting on her coat. “Either way, I think you should stay away from the rest of us.”

“Guys,” Marley chimes in. “She’s trying to explain.”

“I think we’ve heard enough,” April says, sliding out of the booth. “Danielle’s right. Stay away until this gets sorted.”

“Needless to say, no more meetings,” Victoria says, packing her things. “Thanks to Becca, the police are looking into all of us, and we don’t need to give them any ammunition.”

One by one, they storm away from the table until Marley and I are the only ones left. From where we sit, we can see the trio of women still deep in conversation on the sidewalk, breathy clouds exiting their mouths, hands gesticulating wildly. Another moment passes, before they head down the street.

“Are you ready?” Marley asks me, a conspiratorial glint in her eye.

“I’ve got April,” I say, standing. “Are you sure you can track the others by yourself?”

“They live on the same street. If one of them takes off in a different direction, I’ll let you know.” She pulls out her phone, tapping at the screen. “Is your location working?”

“Yep. I checked before the meeting started.” We agreed to share locations on our phones. Keeping eyes on everyone, including each other, is the only way to stay safe. “Make sure yours is on, too.”

We’re outnumbered. That’s one of the many barriers Marley and I ran into when we concocted the plan to follow the rest of the group.

Regardless, this is our best opportunity to find out who is behind the murders.

Now that we’ve confronted all of them, whoever is responsible will no doubt act erratically.

We’ll follow each of the members, watching their every move until we figure out the truth.

April crosses the street while Danielle and Victoria head in the direction of downtown, followed by Marley. I hustle to the front of the restaurant, tracing April’s footsteps, making sure to keep enough distance between us that she won’t know I’m following her.