“Stop! Don’t move!”
I recognize that voice, too. Swiveling my head to the side, I see Detective Hughes, and he’s got a gun trained on Cass and Maggie. Courtney’s struggling to her feet, and he yells at her, too. “Freeze, Courtney!”
She goes completely still, her eyes wide. “Don’t shoot me! I’m not the killer!”
“She is,” Cass says, pointing at Maggie.
“I need you two to separate from each other right now!” Hughes commands Cass and Maggie, waving the gun at them. “Get on your knees with your hands up!”
More police show up, every one of them with their guns drawn as they surround us. I can feel the blood flowing, spurting out of my side, and I press my hand hard against my hip, trying to stop it. I turn my head to see Maggie leap to her feet, her hands high up in the air.
“I didn’t do it, Officer! I swear! It’s Courtney! She’s the killer! I tried to stop her before she murdered Penelope!”
“No,” I gasp, shaking my head. But it’s like I can’t speak. And the more I shake my head, the dizzier I get. I close my eyes and swallow hard, trying to find my voice, but it’s not there. No one can hear me over all the yelling and screaming.
“Get on your knees!” Hughes tells Maggie again, and she just stands there, her eyes wide, hands still up in the air.
“Why won’t you listen to me? I didn’t do it! I swear to God!” she screams at the top of her lungs.
Cass is on his knees, his arms raised above his head, and Courtney does the same. They’re both staring at the cops, not saying a word.
Sometimes silence speaks louder than words could ever say. I hope the cops realize this.
And that’s the last thing I remember thinking before the world goes black.
Chapter
Thirty-Nine
I wake up slowly, and it feels like my head has been stuffed with cotton. My brain is fuzzy, and my eyelids are so heavy. I struggle to open them, and when I finally do, I find I’m not in my bed at home. I’m in an unfamiliar place.
I realize quickly I’m in a hospital bed, not in my own room.
“Oh, Penny. There you are.” It’s Mom. She’s standing by my bedside, tears shining in her eyes. “How are you feeling? Are you uncomfortable? I can call the nurse—”
“No,” I interrupt her with a croak. I clear my throat and wince. “Can you get me some water?”
She pours me a glass and hands it to me, helping me sit up so I can take a sip. The water is cool relief considering my mouth and throat both feel like the Sahara desert. “Why am I here?” I ask. “What happened?”
“You were injured.” Mom’s face becomes serious. “Stabbed, but luckily enough, no major arteries or organs were hit. They called it a shallow wound, though it certainly didn’t look shallow to me.”
“Maggie.” I close my eyes, sink my head into the flat pillow. It all comes rushing back now. The candlelight vigil. Me suspecting it was Maggie and following her as she followed Courtney. “Maggie did it to me.”
“I know. We all know. She’s been taken into custody.” Mom pats my arm gently.
“What about Courtney?” I struggle to open my eyes again, but it’s so hard. “Is she okay?”
“She’s fine. Everyone’s fine, including you.” Mom’s voice starts to drift. She sounds like she’s so far away. “It’s okay. We can talk about it later. Get more rest. You need it, darling. You’ve been through so much.”
I want to say something more. Ask about the cops. Where’s Courtney? Where’s Cass? Why isn’t he here? Is he okay?
My head is too heavy to fight it, though. I give in.
And sleep.
…
They release me from the hospital the next afternoon with little fanfare, thank goodness. I couldn’t stand being in there. Thankfully, the wound wasn’t that bad, but they wanted to keep me overnight for observation. What made me so groggy was the pain medication they pumped into me. The doctor prescribed pain meds for me to take home, but I don’t like being so foggy headed.
I felt completely out of control. And after what just happened to me, I don’t ever want to experience that again.
Once I change into a pair of yoga pants and a T-shirt Mom brought me from home, I’m ready to go. The nurse pushes my wheelchair outside into the blinding midafternoon sun, and I see my dad’s car is parked right in front of the main entrance. Mom is walking beside me, and she helps me get out of the wheelchair, then into the backseat of the car. She’s treating me like a total invalid.
But that’s okay. I sort of feel like a total invalid.
Once we’re in the car, Mom doesn’t stop chattering. I think she’s trying to keep me focused, so I won’t feel sorry for myself or think too much about what happened last night.
“Your sister and brother wanted to come see you right away, especially Peyton. But I told them to wait until this weekend, after you’ve had a few days to recuperate. I didn’t think you’d be up to visitors just yet, don’t you think? You need as much rest as possible after everything you’ve gone through.”
“Yeah. Sure,” I say distractedly.
“Courtney’s mother called me this morning, checking on you. That was nice, wasn’t it?” she asks.
“Have you talked to Cass?” He didn’t come to the hospital to see me, and I don’t know why. I need more details. I want to know where Maggie is, what did the cops say, how Courtney is and what happened to Cass. I’m worried about him.
He saved me.
“He called this morning, but I told him you couldn’t talk yet.”
“What?” I say it so loudly Mom turns to look at me. “Why did you do that?”
“You were sleeping.”
“But I want to talk to him.” He’s my freaking hero.
“You can do that later.” She waves a hand, as if dismissing the subject.
“I want to talk to him now, Mom.” I’m so tired of her controlling my life all the time. “Do you have my phone?”
She reluctantly hands it over and I power it on, watching all the notifications rack up, one after the other. I scroll through everything, relieved when I see the Snapchat selfie from Cass that came early this morning, captioned I miss you, accompanied by a sad emoji.
I send him a Snapchat message back. A selfie with the caption I miss you too.
My phone rings. It’s Cass. I bring the phone up to my ear, smiling. “You saved my life.”
“I told you I wasn’t the killer.”
I’m smiling. I can’t believe he’s joking about this right now. “Guess you couldn’t wait to talk to me?”
“Yeah. I couldn’t. Where are you?”
“I’m on my way home. They released me from the hospital.”
“So you’re okay.”
“Yeah. I’m fine.”
“Thank God.” I can hear the relief in his deep voice, and it makes my skin go warm.
I lower my voice. I can feel my parents spying on me and I wish I were by myself. “My mom told me you called. I’m sorry I didn’t call you back.”
“It’s okay, she said you were sleeping and I didn’t want to disturb you. I can’t lie, though, I’ve been worried sick.” He hesitates, and I can’t help but think he’s being so sweet. “It’s been crazy, Pen. I had to stay at the school last night, since I was an eyewitness. The cops questioned me. Then I went home and my grandma was completely freaked out. I had to reassure her that everything was okay. She wanted me to tell her everything. So I did, staying up half the night spilling it all. Spalding called around midnight to let me know that you were all right. He knew I was worried.”
Aw. Spalding was actually nice to Cass. I can’t believe it.
“I just called the hospital about a half hour ago, trying to get them to put me through to your room, but they said you were taking no personal calls.”
“Come over to my house,” I whisper. “I want to see you.”
“I’ll leave in a half hour. Is that okay?”
I smile. “That’s
perfect.”
The moment I end the call, Mom starts in.
“Are you sure you should have visitors? You need to rest.”
“I want to see him, Mom.”
“I don’t know if it’s a good idea—”
I interrupt her. “I know you don’t approve of him one hundred percent, but he saved my life, Mom. He means a lot to me, and we’ve been through so much together. No one else understands, except for Cass. And I understand him, too.”
“It’s just that…” Her voice trails off and she shakes her head before looking over her shoulder at me. “I just want to protect you, Penny. You’re our baby. And we could’ve lost you.”
“But you didn’t, thanks to Cass,” I say firmly. “And I want to see him. I care about him, Mom. A lot.”
She relents. I witness her sag in seeming defeat. “Fine. He can come over. But I don’t want him to stay too long. You need your—”
“Rest,” I finish for her. “Yeah, I get it.”
The minute we arrive home, Mom’s helping me walk to my bedroom. I’m not as strong as I thought. The stab wound is throbbing and I practically collapse into bed, sighing when Mom pulls my comforter up and over my body.
“My bed is the best bed in the whole wide world,” I tell her, making her laugh.
“There’s nothing like sleeping in your own bed when you’ve been missing it,” Mom agrees, sitting on the edge of my mattress. She tucks the comforter around me, acting like a typical mother. “That call from the police last night was one of the most terrifying I’ve ever experienced in my life.”
I meet her gaze, see the sadness and worry written all over her face, and I feel awful. “I’m sorry, Mom. I should’ve never followed after Maggie like that. But I just knew she was going to attack Courtney. And I was right.”
“Why don’t you start at the beginning of this story,” Mom says with a gentle smile.
So I do. I launch into all the details from the last few days, trying to ignore the dawning horror on her face. I did some stupid stuff. I realize it now. But every move I made last night was impulsive—and potentially life threatening. Following after Maggie is where I made my biggest mistake.
Luckily enough, I paid for it with only a minor stab wound, versus my life.
“I’m just glad you’re safe. These last few weeks have been an absolute nightmare,” Mom says.
I roll my eyes. “Tell me about it.”
We both smile wanly, and then Mom dives in for a hug, making me wince with pain. “Oh, I’m so sorry!” She moves away, shaking her head. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“It’s okay, Mom.” I grin at her. “I’ve realized I’m pretty tough.”
“Of course, sweetheart.” She pats my cheek. “That you are.”
Chapter
Forty
A knock sounds on my partially closed door and then Mom pushes it open, Cass standing behind her. “Your friend is here,” she says cheerily, sending me a pointed smile.
She shifts out of the way and Cass moves past her, nodding in her direction. “Thanks, Mrs. Malone.”
“Keep the door open,” she warns us before she leaves my room.
Leaving us alone.
Cass stands by the foot of my bed, watching me with a faint smile curling his lips. “You look good.”
I haven’t taken a real shower, my hair is greasy, I’m wearing raggedy old sweats and a beat-up T-shirt. Oh, and I was just stabbed. I know for a fact I look like hell. “You look good, too.”
He does. He’s wearing a blue plaid button-down shirt and jeans, his dark hair a little wild about his head. His gaze is soft as he studies me, his full mouth curved in that smug smile I used to despise but now adore. “Can I sit with you?” he asks tentatively. “On your bed?”
I scoot over as best I can, wincing with the movement. Cass rushes to my side, trying to help me, and I let him. Then he kicks off his shoes—the beat-up Converse—and climbs into bed with me, him on top of the covers while I’m beneath them. He’s solid and warm and when he curves his arm around me so I can rest my head on his shoulder, for the first time since this wild situation started, I actually feel safe.
“I thought I was going to lose you,” he murmurs against my hair, his voice shaky.
“I’m too tough.” I poke him in the ribs with my index finger, making him laugh.
“Seriously, I should be mad at you for not telling me what you were doing last night.” He hesitates, then gives me a squeeze. “I would’ve helped you.”
“I know. But I didn’t want to jump to conclusions, I guess. I kept thinking I was wrong, though my gut told me it was her.”
“Why Maggie, though? Why was she targeting the Larks? I thought she was a Lark,” he says.
I explain what she told me. How she went to middle school with us, how Gretchen and Lex made fun of her, and how Maggie could never let it go. That she was seeking her revenge and she almost got away with it. She was never a real suspect. At least, not in my eyes.
I don’t know what all of this is going to do to the Larks. Or to my relationship with Courtney. I know Maggie is in jail. The media is losing its mind over the story. An eighteen-year-old girl is a criminal mastermind on the verge of becoming a serial killer. It’s straight out of a teen slasher movie.
“I wondered at one point if it was a Lark. Remember?” Cass muses as he twirls a thick strand of my hair around his finger. “I know you believed it was Courtney, but I never really thought so.”
I’m so relieved it wasn’t Courtney after all. “I don’t remember you telling me that you suspected a Lark, so your suspicion is void,” I tease, though the more I think about it, the more I kind of do remember him mentioning his suspicions.
“The cops were shocked, too. Spalding told me straight up Hughes thought it was Courtney.”
I glance at him. “Are you serious? Hughes and I were thinking the same thing? I hate that guy!”
Cass chuckles. “He’s not that bad. Neither of them are. They were just doing their job.”
“Says the former suspect and reformed drug dealer.”
“Hey, don’t be mean.” Now he pokes me in the side, but gently. Not anywhere close to my wound.
“I’m sorry. I was just teasing.” I tilt my head back to meet his gaze, and he bends down, dropping a soft kiss on my lips. “I’m sorry I ever doubted you.”
His answer is a kiss. A long, sweet, warm, tongue-filled kiss that leaves me wanting more when he finally breaks away. I don’t even care if Mom or Dad finds us making out on my bed. I missed Cass that much.
“I can’t blame you,” he murmurs against my lips. “I’m sorry we fought.”
“Thank you for saving me.”
“No problem,” he says jokingly, making us both laugh softly.
“Seriously, Cass. I don’t know what would’ve happened if you hadn’t shown up,” I tell him.
“We’ve been through a lot together,” Cass says as he runs his fingers over my hair.
I close my eyes. That feels so good. I could fall asleep if he keeps this up. “We have.”
“I’m really sorry you had to experience that. And that you lost your friends.”
“I’m sorry, too,” I murmur.
“But at least you’re safe.”
I snuggle closer to him. “At least you are, too.”
“I think we make a good pair.”
“I do, too.”
“Are you willing to give this a shot? Even though there isn’t a murder mystery to solve anymore? Now you might find me kind of boring.” I hear the amusement in his voice, and it makes me smile.
I open my eyes to find him watching me with a faint smirk. “Trust me, I could never consider you boring, Cass Vincenti.”
“Right back at ya, Pen,” he whispers.
Just before he kisses me.
About the Author
Monica Murphy is the New York Times, USA Today, and #1 international bestselling author of the One Week Girlfriend series, the Billionaire
Bachelors series, and The Rules series. Her books have been translated into almost a dozen languages and have sold more than one million copies worldwide. She is a traditionally published author with Bantam/Random House and Harper Collins/Avon, as well as an independently published author. She writes new adult, young adult, and contemporary romance. She is also USA Today bestselling romance author Karen Erickson.
www.monicamurphyauthor.com
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