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I’m not the only one who has heard it. Everyone moves to the living room in a churning mass. I literally have to force them to the side.
“Get the fuck out of my way.”
I reach the door of the living room just as the crowd parts because nobody wants to get too close to the scene.
Brady lies at the bottom of the stairs, eyes wide open and staring straight up at the ceiling. Serena is kneeling over him. She had to be the one who was just screaming bloody murder.
“What happened?” I ask, sliding to my knees next to her.
Her wild-eyed gaze swings to mine. “I didn’t see him fall, but I heard him shout. Next thing I knew, he was at the bottom of the stairs. No one came down after him.”
“Did he trip or…” I trail off because I’m not even sure what I’m asking.
Or did someone push him down the stairs?
“I was down here.” Serena exhales in a rush. “But I didn’t see anyone else.”
I check Brady’s pulse. His head tilts at an awkward angle. It takes a few seconds for me to even figure out if I’m feeling in the right spot. I try the other side. Nothing. He isn’t breathing and his neck is definitely broken.
My gaze immediately moves to the top of the stairs and I could swear I see a flash of someone moving. But then I blink and there isn’t anyone there.
Serena still stares at me when I turn back to her. The surrounding crowd has gone so quiet you could hear a pin dropping.
“Oh, fuck.” Nolan drops to the floor next to me. “Somebody call an ambulance.”
My voice probably comes out sounding cavalier, but it’s just because I’m in shock. “They won’t be able to help.”
Brady is already dead.
Chapter Seventeen
The police don’t want to take to everyone at the party, which is a relief. I’d been on the other side of the house when he fell, so the cops didn’t consider me a witness. It’s definitely for the best that they didn’t force me to make a statement. I’m not exactly sad about his death. He made a sextape with my sister and tried to assault me. There have definitely been times in the past when I would have pushed him down the stairs myself if I’d been given the opportunity.
My lack of sorrow might have come through a little too strongly if the cops talked to me.
Not that I’m happy Brady is dead. I just don’t care anywhere near as much as some of the other girls here do. Or Nolan, even.
I wait around while Drake is interviewed. He, along with about a dozen other people, are still being held in the living room while the cops talk to each of them individually. The rest of us were told to leave. It doesn’t seem like the police suspect foul-play, but are just following protocol. I briefly consider going back to the dorm, but I don’t want to listen to Anya go on and on about how she has never seen a dead body before. And I can’t wait until morning to hear what happened directly from the source.
I decide to wait in Drake’s room instead of leaving, which actually turns into falling asleep in his bed because dawn is only a few hours away and I’m exhausted.
But I snap wide awake when the door slams open hard enough to hit the opposite wall.
“Sorry,” he murmurs apologetically. “I didn’t realize you stayed. The police wouldn’t let us use our phones until we were done.”
I push up into a sitting position, blinking away the haze of sleep as our gazes meet. “Are you okay?”
“Cops are saying it was an accident.” He shuts the door hard enough that it rattles. “Idiots.”
“Are you saying that it’s not?”
“Healthy people don’t just fall down the stairs.”
A shiver works its way down my spine that I force myself to ignore. “Brady drinks like a fish and the stairs are made of wood. He probably just slipped.”
Drake shakes his head, electrically bright eyes narrowing in contemplation. “Easy to do when someone pushes you.”
“Who would want to do something like that?”
