“Just curious,” I say, matching her gaze.
“No idea,” Kat says.
Summer shakes her head.
I consider asking for their journal names, but the looks on their faces tell me information may stop flowing soon if I do.
“Whatever happened to her boyfriend?” Summer says.
“Which one?” Kat says, and they laugh.
I don’t laugh with them. They better be careful in their glass houses.
“So how did Heather get out of those woods?” I say.
“Maybe she hitchhiked.” Kat leans forward. “So why’s she dead now?”
“I bet she killed herself,” Summer says, nodding. “Guilt.”
“Okay, ladies, here we go.” Our server puts a plate in front of Summer and me. She pulls a piece of paper from her front pocket. “I’m leaving the bill here, but no rush. You ladies take your time.”
Despite our topic of conversation, Summer dives into her turkey and gluten-free bread as if she hasn’t eaten in weeks. From the looks of her, maybe she hasn’t.
I pick at my salad. “There’s no cause of death for Laura Sanders yet. But I know the detective is treating it as a homicide.”
“How do you know that?” Summer says.
“Because I was there when she was found. Laura Sanders reached out to me.”
Kat makes a face. “What do you mean reached out to you?”
“She wanted to talk to me.”
“Oh my God,” Summer says.
“Holy shit,” Kat says.
“I don’t think she would have asked me to come to Florida if she was just going to kill herself.”
“Maybe she wanted to confess something, then had a change of heart,” Summer says, then takes another bite.
“It doesn’t feel like that to me.”
“What does it feel like to you?” Kat says, her voice sharp. “Because if Heather isn’t responsible for whoever was found in that wall, then who is responsible?”
Summer takes a sip of tea. “She’s got a point.”
“Are you saying it could be one of us?” Kat says, straightening her shoulders.
“I’m not saying anything.”
Summer looks between us.
Kat narrows her eyes. “Feels like you are.”
“Kat, stop,” Summer says. She looks at me. “So, do we ... are we ... should we contact our lawyers?”
“Oh my God, Summer,” Kat says. “No.”
