It was also male.
“She was gone,” the voice said again, and Brett realized it hadn’t come from Juniper after all. It had come from the boy with pale skin and dark, glossy hair. Bright eyes. Gavin was sitting up on the sofa, something white crumpled in his hand. “She was gone when I—”
“How long have you been awake?” Parker asked, thundering over to him.
Gavin clambered to his feet. Seeing Juniper, with her dripping hair and bruised skin, his mouth dropped open. “What happened to you? Did Parker do this?”
“Not . . .” Juniper curled over in pain as Brett laid her on the sofa. Meanwhile, Parker glowered, his head whipping back and forth between Juniper and Gavin. “Someone better tell me what the hell’s going on—”
“Or what?” Gavin snarled, smoothing his wrinkled vest. He’d given his jacket to Juniper, back at the start of the party, and now his fedora was missing too. “You’ll knock us out with chloroform?”
Parker gawked at him. “Dude, you’re babbling. Doll Face must’ve given you the good shit.”
“A movie was playing when I woke up,” Gavin said, staggering toward the TV. “I don’t know who turned it on, but I do know one thing: the movie was familiar.”
Gavin picked up a remote and pushed play. Juniper gasped, hands flying to her mouth. Brett’s fingers tightened to fists. The movie was familiar. Of course, there was a reason for that.
It had been recorded in the mansion.
“Zoom in on our heroes,” Gavin said, as if narrating the scene. “They’ve just arrived in the dining room and are ready for the party to begin. But while four of them scurry off to the kitchen, to hand over their electronics, one of them stays behind.”
And one of them had. Parker sat like a king on a throne, watching the others deliver their cell phones to the baby doll. They were gone for less than a minute. Really, it had seemed like the blink of an eye, but that was all it took to stab someone in the back.
Now Brett watched, his heart racing and his mouth dry, as King Parker reached into his pocket and pulled out a bottle of eye drops. But that bottle was a cover, wasn’t it? A little protection, in case he got caught red-handed. Smart, if you thought about it. Maybe even brilliant.
Parker squeezed the bottle, dropping the liquid into his cupped hand. In a matter of seconds, he’d coated the rim of Gavin’s glass. But that wasn’t the end of it. He’d had to be certain the drugs would take, and so, after Gavin had taken a big whiff and tumbled to the ground, Parker dropped down beside him.
“No,” Brett whispered. His hands were shaking, and it didn’t seem fair that he was burning up when Juniper was freezing.
Looking down at her, he realized she’d scrounged up a pen and notepad from a nearby end table and was scribbling the words Doll Face on the little pad of paper. But he didn’t care. Honest to God, the words didn’t even compute. Because Parker, the one on the screen, was holding his hand over Gavin’s mouth. Quietly drugging him, while Brett looked on, clueless. Trusting. Now the Gavin who wasn’t on the screen stepped forward, blocking the TV from his view.
“The movie was playing when I woke up. Ruby was gone. And this was on top of the TV.” He opened his fingers to reveal a card. A character card with Parker Addison written across the front.
“My name is the Human Torch,” he read. “I am secretly in love with the Disappearing Act. My weapon is a rope, because then people can’t run away from me. My greatest secret is—” He leapt back as Parker leapt forward. Brett stepped between them, saying, “Keep reading.”
Gavin did. With a great amount of flourish, considering he’d recently been drugged, he said, “I will sacrifice each one of you to get her back.”
“No,” Brett moaned, his heart cracking open. “He can’t be working with—”
Gavin cut him off. “Ladies and gentlemen,” he boomed, bowing deeply to Parker. “May I present to you . . . the Ringmaster!”
20.
PATRIOT ACT
Parker’s head dropped to his hands, and he took three desperate gulps of air. He could not believe he was doing this. But he had no choice. His partner in crime had thrown him under the bus, and every time he closed his eyes, he saw flashes of Juniper falling onto the stones. He saw her plunging into the water, arms flailing. Saw the bruise on her shoulder.
“It wasn’t supposed to be like this,” he said, lifting his head. Over on the sofa, Juniper was watching him. Gavin stood by the entertainment center. Meanwhile, Brett lingered between them, eyeing Parker with the coolest expression he’d ever seen. Thank God Ruby wasn’t here to witness this. Parker was desperate to go looking for her, but first, he would convince the others to keep his secret.
As much as he hated to admit it, he needed their help.
“Three months ago, I got an email from this girl,” he began, his voice quavering. “Her name was Abby Henderson, and she was an intern at the Fallen Oaks Psychiatry Center—which is a real place, by the way. I looked it up. I checked out everything before I agreed to work with her. I stalked her Facebook and her LinkedIn.”
Juniper snorted. After a minute of scribbling on her little pad of paper, she held up the message: Stalked. You finally admit it.
Parker scowled, but he didn’t lash out. That was what she wanted: to make him into the bad guy, so she could be the hero. But Juniper Torres was not the hero in this scenario, and neither was Gavin. Neither was Brett. The hero was standing in front of them, making an impassioned plea for their support.
Parker drew in a breath. “Abby was working with a new patient, a girl who’d lost her twin brother in a tragic car accident.”
Gavin made a strangled sound, halfway between gasping and choking, and Parker plodded on before he could steal focus. “Abby was only an intern, but she didn’t agree with how lax the psychiatrist was being with their patient’s case. Brianna was suffering from delusions, convinced her brother had been murdered. Now, I knew that wasn’t what happened, but believe it or not, I felt for her. Sure, she was a little creepy, but her brother was the psych—”
“Brianna wasn’t creepy,” Gavin snapped, his breath coming out short and fast. “I interviewed her for the paper last year. She was running the school clothing drive by herself, and she donated a bunch of her mother’s clothes, even though it was obviously hard for her.”
“Fine, she was a saint.” Parker waved a hand. “Then her brother died, and she started rambling about capturing his killers. She wanted to torture you, one by one, until you admitted what you did to him.”
Parker swallowed, looking guiltily at Brett. No matter what Gavin and Juniper decided to do, keeping Brett on his side was essential in surviving this night. Parker peered into those hazel eyes as he said, “When Abby came to me with her idea, I honestly thought it was the safer alternative.”
“Drugging me was the safer alternative?” Gavin demanded, lurching forward. “What if I’d taken a drink from my wineglass? I’m pretty sure chloroform isn’t safe to ingest.”
“And I’m absolutely sure you’d never drink anything I poured.” Parker’s heart was racing, but he told himself to stay calm. Collected. “As long as you saw me filling the wineglasses, and doctoring up my own with Brett’s flask, I knew you’d smell your drink to check for alcohol.”
Gavin crossed his arms over his chest. “I guess you have it all figured out. I couldn’t possibly have been poisoned, just like Juniper couldn’t possibly have been drowned.”
“I told you, it wasn’t supposed to be like this.” Parker held up his hands. “We were going to pull pranks. Perform illusions. Using my money and Abby’s creativity, we were going to re-create the night Shane Ferrick died and give Brianna the closure she needed. First you would pass out and she’d write on you. Then she’d push Juniper into the pool. Just one push!” He turned to Juniper, appealing to her for the first time in his life. And he really did feel bad; that was why he was coming clean now. He was the good guy. Brianna was the evil one, manipulating him into helping her and th
en turning on him.
“Why not go to the cops?” Gavin asked. “From what I heard, Brianna’s dad started homeschooling her after the accident. If you’d told the police she was planning to torture us, they could’ve swung by her place—”
“It wouldn’t have mattered,” Parker exclaimed, his voice cracking. “The night after Brianna confessed to her dark fantasies, someone broke into the psychiatrist’s office and destroyed her file. All the recordings and the paper copy. Everything. Abby had no proof, and if she went to the cops, Brianna would’ve lied. Lied, and then . . .” At this point in Parker’s story, he heard what sounded like a hiccup. A soft hitch in the throat, then another. He turned to find Juniper hunched over, gasping.
She’s finally breaking down, he thought, swooping toward her. How great would it look, in that moment, to kneel by her side? Wrap an arm around her? Yes, Parker thought, nearing the sofa, he would brush away Juniper’s tears, and they’d all realize he was looking out for them.
But Juniper wasn’t crying. She was laughing, as much as she could, with lungs that had already been pushed to their limit. She scrawled out a message on her notepad, then held up the words: There is no Abby. Brianna played you.
“I looked her up,” Parker repeated, instantly defensive, but now Gavin was shaking his head.
“Just because she exists doesn’t mean she contacted you. Brianna could’ve set up a fake email address, pretending to be from the Psychiatry Center. Maybe Abby really was working with her, but all this?” He gestured to the words on his skin, the water dripping from Juniper’s hair. “No professional would agree to this. You got played.”
Parker exhaled slowly, his chest flushing with heat. He refused to believe he’d been outsmarted. But Brianna had already played him for a fool, promising to “push” Juniper into the pool, and then drowning her within an inch of her life. He still remembered the smack when her body had hit the stones. He remembered, too, the words Abby had emailed to him, the night she’d reached out: Nobody will get hurt, she’d promised. They’ll only get scared and confess to what they did. You’ll be saving their lives!
Now, rubbing at his eyes, he said, “I thought Brianna was going to kill you.”
“She’s still going to kill us,” Brett murmured. “Up in my bedroom, she offered to—”
“We’re going to be fine,” Parker snapped before Brett could say anything incriminating. “As long as I’m running the show—”
He broke off at the sound of scratching. He turned, slowly, to find Juniper holding up a note. You aren’t the Ringmaster. You’re the patsy. The Ringmaster doesn’t exist.
Parker’s jaw tightened. He was running this show. He was. Abby had promised, and even if “Abby” was actually Brianna, he’d keep the reins of the circus in his hands. He would earn the title of Ringmaster, and he’d tame the lion.
“You’re right,” he said, hanging his head. “She took advantage of my fear. I didn’t want her to hurt Ruby and I didn’t want her to hurt Brett, so I agreed to help—”
“She offered you something,” Juniper broke in. In spite of the pain, she opted to speak the words rather than write them. Parker felt deflated. In one instant, he’d gathered the whip in his hands, and Juniper had snatched it away.
“She offered to spare your lives. That’s all!”
“You’re lying,” Gavin said. “Your Adam’s apple pulses when you lie. You have a tell, all of us have a tell. Except maybe Ruby. I can’t figure her out.”
Brett sucked in a breath. “Ruby,” he repeated, and Parker looked up.
“What?” He crept forward, as gently as a hunter approaching a deer. “Do you think we should go looking for her?”
Brett shook his head. “She offered you Ruby.”
“No, she didn’t.”
Brett nodded, a strange light in his eyes. “Brianna wanted answers. You wanted Ruby back. So you made a deal, didn’t you? You scare us half to death, and we admit what we did last year. We admit it, but you say nothing.”
Juniper perked up at that. Gavin, too. And Brett kept talking, spilling secrets he had no business spilling. “The truth was going to come out. Most of it was, and then what? You tackle Brianna and she pretends to go down? And Ruby spends the rest of her life thinking you’re the only one who can keep her safe? Jesus, Parker, it’s brilliant.”
“More like evil.” Gavin shook his head. “You act like people exist for your enjoyment. Ruby’s your sex toy and Brett’s your mindless little henchman, tossing people around when they haven’t done anything—”
“Hey.” Brett stepped toward him, his jaw clenched. Parker smiled. He hid it quickly, but he couldn’t wait to see Brett knock Gavin across the room. Gavin wasn’t small, but Brett was a force of nature, and with the right amount of effort, he could send Gavin into the wall.
Boom.
“That day,” Brett began, his voice surprisingly soft, “when we went for a ride . . .”
Gavin snorted, and Parker’s eyes narrowed. They were going to talk about that now? Weren’t there more pressing matters?
Apparently there weren’t. Gavin squared his shoulders, making himself almost as tall as Brett. “We didn’t go for a ride. You threw me in the trunk of Parker’s car. You locked me in there for hours. Man, I wasn’t claustrophobic before, but now?” He gestured to the spacious living room. “These walls are closing in.”
Juniper gaped at Brett, mouthing, “You didn’t.”
Brett swallowed. Opened his mouth, as if to defend himself, then turned back to Gavin. “You wrote that article about my family. ‘The Crumbling Carmichaels.’ You printed it in the school paper, and then you stood by as everyone had a big old laugh at my expense. Did you think it was funny? Oh look, Brett’s father can’t win a fight. Oh look, his mother got dragged away—”
“I told you, I didn’t write it,” Gavin said, his fists tightening. It looked like his fingernails were digging into his palms. “You know I wouldn’t do that. You know me.”
Parker stepped between them, holding up his hands. The last thing he needed was some cutesy reminder that these guys used to be friends. Yeah, he knew about it. Parker’s mansion sat at the top of Fallen Oaks, and he could see all the way down to the forest below. He remembered the summer that Gavin and Brett had snuck off to the woods to feed a couple of scrawny baby birds. And when those birds were strong enough to fly, the boys held a freaking ceremony, where Gavin strummed on a tiny guitar while Brett twirled around the nest.
It was difficult to watch.
Then Brett’s mother went away, and the giggling, curly-haired boy changed. He became sullen. He became violent. Gavin didn’t know how to help him, but Parker did. He swooped in, offering Brett the things he’d lost. A lavish bedroom to call his own. Dinner with a loving, doting family. Parker’s parents thought he hung the moon, but they couldn’t have any more children after him, and he knew it broke their hearts. They’d wanted a big family. And so, he’d brought another boy into their home for them to love.
Everyone was happy.
Except Gavin. He didn’t like the way Brett was changing, and by their sophomore year in high school, he was writing articles about “the dangers of boxing.” The health risks. The emotional toll. Parker didn’t get it. Brett was a talented fighter, and with a boxing career, he’d be able to support himself in a way that his parents couldn’t. He’d go to college. Build a life for himself. And if that hurt Gavin’s feelings, well . . .
Parker would take him out of the equation.
So yeah, he typed up an article about Brett’s family and put Gavin’s name on it. Snuck into the newsroom after hours. Pulled a little switcheroo. The article wasn’t that demeaning. Most of what he wrote, people already knew. But Brett had been devastated to see his family secrets splayed out on the front page, and he’d never gotten over the betrayal.
Not then, and not now.
“Listen to me,” Gavin pleaded, peering into Brett’s eyes. “I did not write that article. I spent all freshman y
ear taking pictures for the paper, just so Mr. Keller would consider me for a journalism position—”
“So what? You love taking pictures,” Parker said, waving his hand.
“No, I don’t. People just assume I do. Can’t imagine why.”
“Oh, don’t you dare.” Parker huffed, rolling his eyes. “Don’t you dare make this about—”
“Why would I do that? So you can call me a racist for pointing it out, and I can literally fall over dead from the irony? No thanks. I’d rather take my chances with Brianna.” Gavin shook his head, turning back to Brett. “I almost got kicked off the paper because of that article. But you know what? That was nothing compared to what you did to me.”
Brett stared at his feet. His cheeks were blazing, his voice feather-soft as he said, “You’re the only one who could’ve written it. No one else knew where my mother was taken—”
“Someone knew,” Gavin said, his gaze sweeping across the room. “The same person who lured you into this house to get Ruby—”
At the mention of Ruby’s name, Juniper gasped. Honestly, Parker was getting tired of the theatrics. But as his gaze followed hers to the entertainment center, he realized that sometimes theatrics were appropriate. The image on the screen had shifted. Or rather, the room had shifted, and now he was staring into a dark, grainy space with a single chair. Parker’s vision dilated, zeroing in on the girl in the chair. The love of his life. The girl he’d lost his virginity to.
Ruby Valentine, tied up with rope.
Just as his fingers touched the screen, a blur of white appeared in front of Ruby, blocking her out. White hair, white dress. White face, with that broken mask revealing her mouth. Brianna Ferrick grinned, stepping closer, until her smile took over the entire frame. “Hello, darlings. Are we ready to confess?”
It took a minute to realize she was waiting for them to respond. But if they could see her, she could likely see them. Parker knew she’d planted cameras in the main rooms of the house—he’d given her the money to do it. He’d paid for the decorations, and the bars on the windows. He’d dipped into his trust fund for this! Now, glaring at the screen, he nodded begrudgingly. Gavin and Juniper did too. Brett just swallowed, staring not at the screen, but at Parker.
This Lie Will Kill You Page 13