Page 139 of Web of Lies

I raise my eyebrows, smirking back at him as I climb a few stairs. “Well, well, well, Mr. Cunningham, it kind of sounds like you’re concerned for my wellbeing.”

He scoffs, rolling his eyes. “More like your pussy, now fuck off.” He grunts, walking away but pokes his head back in when I reach the first landing. “But I’m fucking as serious as a heart attack. That bitch created a few more problems for you, and I’m going to have a long, hard discussion with her. So. Stay. The. Fuck. Put.” He points his finger at me, and I shrug.

“Yes, Sir,” I say with a salute.

I need to busy myself—I have to. Right now, all I can hear are my most intimate moments running through my mind on repeat. If they didn’t set me up, then how the hell did she get that? How could she have made that tape and let the world hear it? What happened to girl power and all that?

When I make it back to my apartment, my rage is an all-consuming storm blowing through my mind. I’m tired of having to watch my back. I’m tired of having everything ripped out from underneath me like a rug. I’m just so fucking tired of being tired. This investigation. This school. It’s too much right now.

I groan when I slam my apartment door shut, knocking Magnolia’s paintings off the wall. Great! Just great! They land in a heap on the ground, the wooden frame crunching from the fall, poking through the leather covering the back. Of course, I’d break the one thing she left me. I crumble to the floor, letting my anger and sadness overtake me. Like a rushing river, my tears overflow, and I pound a fist into the floor. Of fucking course, something terrible like this was bound to happen, but I know it wasn’t them. It wasn’t my guys. I won’t believe that until they laugh in my face and tell me, it’s true. It may make me naïve or whatever, but I can’t believe that. I can’t believe they’d record me and put it up for the entire school to hear.

After who knows how long I’ve sat on the floor, I reach out to the only other person I can think of to talk to about my problems. And this time… this time, I’m not holding back. He can find out all my secrets for all I care.

Me:

No bullshit?

Me:

Today has been an awful day. But not just today…. this entire school year has been challenging. I’m being bullied, Tris. REALLY bullied. They put a dildo in my locker. They locked me in a fucking dumpster. I just…. someone killed my best friend here, and I’ve been trying to figure out who the hell it is. I’m just lost right now. Something happened at a pep rally today…. But I don’t know who to blame for it… I don’t know who did it to me… I’m really confused…… really… I just need to talk to you right now.

I sigh, staring down at the screen. He’s read it. But there’s no reply yet. Maybe he doesn’t know how to respond when we’ve always been so cryptic with one another. But screw it. He can know me now. Whatever. I look down as Chase calls my phone. I know they’re worried, but I just need a moment to myself. A moment to register what has happened.

I lean down while I wait to talk to Tristan and pull at the back of the paintings. I’m not sure there’s a way to fix the leather over the frame. Maybe I’ll get it reframed. As I pull the leather off the back and throw it in the trash, something small hidden inside the frame catches my eyes. I blink a few times at what the front of the leather-bound book says: Journal.

A journal. The journal I’ve been searching high and low for. Why didn’t I think about her paintings?

“Magnolia,” I breathe to no one. “Oh, my God.” Tears stream down my cheeks because now I’ll know. Now I’ll be able to find out all the answers she couldn’t hide in her emails. Sure, she gave me warnings that people were after her and she was in danger. But… who was she dating? Who stole her heart? That person could have all the answers I need to pinpoint her murderer. Not only that, but who she dated before that didn’t work out.

I crawl towards the journal, ripping it from its hiding place, and read. Just as a text comes through. Tristan’s ringtone spills through the air, relief washing through me. The guys have tried to contact me a million times by now, but I need a minute. Thankfully, they haven’t rushed over here just yet.

Tristan:

Kaycee?

Tristan:

Kaycee? Is that fucking you?

Tristan:

I’m coming to your apartment right the fuck now!

My heart pounds in my chest, sputtering out of control at the sight of my name

Who is he?

The end….for now!