“That Sherry drugged everyone? No, it wasn’t her. I asked her about it and guess who she got her bottle for the study group from?”
“Who?”
“Her brother, Scott.”
“Why the hell would Scott want to drug me? Or Beth? Or you?”
Josh sucks in a deep breath and wanders over to a table, and sits on the top. “I don’t know, but maybe we should go find out.”
“He’s down the hall in another classroom. I saw him on our way in.”
Josh nods. “I know. Let’s go find out what the fuck is going on.”
The two of us head down a few doors and slip inside. Scott has his back to us and is working in red on a painting that screams HELP ME. It’s filled with violent brush strokes and thin layers of paint piled so thick in spots that the image is nearly three-dimensional. Next to it is a second canvas that’s nearly complete. Monochromatic shades of blue swirl through the painting to form a man with dark hair hanging in his eyes, concealing his face. It’s Carter.
“Scott,” I call out as we walk over intent on asking him one thing then blindsided by the contrasting paintings. “Did you paint that one, too?” I point toward the portrait of Carter with the soft lines and light brush strokes. The way Carter’s head tips forward, chin tucked, makes him seem vulnerable.
Scott pushes his blue hair out of his face, smearing red through the top. He doesn’t seem to care. “Yeah.”
Josh cocks his head to the side. “Is that Carter?”
“Yes, it is.” Scott’s voice is quiet but obviously annoyed. “What do you want?”
I blink at the painting of Carter, my eyes flicking between Scott and the canvas. Memories flip behind my eyes like cards, flashing images of Scott behind Carter, always there, always silent. I used to think of the blue haired boy like a sentry, always standing guard, but that’s not it. That was never it. “Oh, God!” I turn to Scott and can’t stop staring. “You like him, don’t you?”
“Say what now?” Josh leans in, arms folded loosely across his chest. He’s standing on one foot, trying to get closer to me. He glances at my face, then at the painting of Carter, then back at Scott.
“Scott’s an upperclassman. Scott’s been here the entire time. Before me, before you…” My voice trails off and, for a second, I think I’ve got it wrong, that there’s no way.
But Scott bristles and turns toward me, leaving his brush on his easel. “You’re wrong.”
Holy shit! I’m right! A smile spreads across my face as the pieces of the puzzle land perfectly in place. “You’re in love with Carter. You have been since your freshman year. He moved in with you after the whole thing with Josh and his girlfriend. You knew everything. Carter confided in you and told you how hurt he was. You couldn’t stand it, so you got even for him.”
Josh flinches like he's been slapped. “He did what?”
“Your dad manages the bottling plant. Slipping drugs into a liquor bottle wouldn’t be a big deal. You wouldn't have to reseal anything. You could cut the original off
, open the bottle, spike it, and use the machine to put on another plastic seal. No one would know.”
Scott laughs darkly. “Keep making up stories, Kerry.”
“That’s it, isn’t it? Once the why is there, it becomes obvious. You targeted the two people who caused Carter the most pain. You made it look like Josh raped Carter’s girlfriend, but he didn’t did he? You staged that entire scene then stood back and watched.”
“Bullshit.”
Josh has his arms folded across his chest. His gaze flicks between Scott and me. “He staged it? Why?”
“Because you hurt Carter. You both did, so he paid you both back, tenfold. That leaves Emily at the club. That was you, too, wasn’t it? You knew she liked Carter, so you took care of it. What about the other rape victims recently? Did they screw with Carter too?”
“What about the bottle at the study group?” Josh asks.
“That was an accident. Sherry didn’t ask Scott for the bottle, she stole one from his stash. She told us the bottles were expensive while she was eating cookies, and that the group didn’t bring in cheap stuff. She didn’t have the cash to buy her own, so she took his. Beth and I were just in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
Josh’s hands fist at his sides. “Say something, asswipe. Refute it or say it’s true, but saying nothing just makes you look guilty as hell.”
Scott rolls his eyes. “Don’t tell me you believe this bullshit.”
“Maybe I wouldn’t if you didn’t look so goddamned tense, like she figured you out.”