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“Kayla, I don’t know what you want me to do,” I say as softly as I can.

“Just do what you’ve already done.” Her fingers tighten around mine. “Please. Just kill me. Put me out of my misery.”

For a moment, all I can do is stare at her, struggling to comprehend what she’s just asked me to do. Then I glance over her shoulder and realize that everyone within earshot has heard her too.

And judging by the looks they are throwing at me, if there was anyone left in this town who didn’t think I was responsible for the recent murders, they sure as shit do now.

“It’s not me, Kayla,” I whisper, shaking my head. “I’m sorry.”

Did I really just apologize for not being a murderer?

Apparently, yes. Yes, I did.

I swear, Dr. Roberts is going to be able to afford a second home with all the therapy I’m going to need after this week is over.

But that is neither here nor there. Right now, I should be focusing on Kayla.

I look down at her again, taking in her heavy eyelids, her dilated pupils, and the way her entire body seems to tremble beneath the weight of whatever she’s taken.

There’s barely anything left of the girl I remember from high school. The Kayla I once knew has been replaced by this hollow shell of a woman, someone so consumed by guilt and misery that she’s practically begging me to end her life.

No, not practically. The whole town heard her just as clearly as I did.

“I know you’re hurting. I felt that pain. But it will get better. I promise you, it will. You just need to get help, Kayla. Let the people who love you help you”

“Help? You mean like I helped you?” she retorts on a sob. “I don’t deserve help. I deserve death. Please. Please,” she begs.

“Kayla,” I try to soothe her, but she can’t hear me. Her pain is too loud for her to be able to hear anything else.

“She killed my brother,” Kayla continues to sob, her voice cracking. “She killed him, and I just watched. I stood there and watched.”

My heart gives a painful thud, but before I can say anything about that, Andre reaches us and grabs her by the arm, hauling her to her feet.

But Kayla isn’t finished confessing her sins or those of her friends. Not by a long shot.

“Your sister was there too!” she cries, twisting around to look at him. “Amber was there, Andre! She laughed while Peyton burned the whole thing down!”

The words hit me so hard that for a moment I forget how to breathe.

“She laughed!” Kayla repeats, a hysterical laugh escaping her own lips as tears continue streaming down her face. “But she’s not laughing now, is she? I hope she’s burning in hell with the rest of them!”

Andre’s expression turns murderous as his grip tightens around Kayla’s arm, dragging her through the crowd with enough force to make her stumble.

“Hey!” I shout, hurrying after them. “You’re hurting her!”

He stops so abruptly that I nearly collide with him. When he turns, his face is twisted into an ugly snarl.

“Back the fuck off. Unless you want to be in cuffs next.” His eyes narrow as he leans toward me. “Go on. Give me a fucking reason.”

My jaw goes slack at the venom in his voice.

I’ve known Andre for most of my life, and while we’ve never exactly been friends, I’ve never seen him look at me with such open hostility.

Then again, I suppose he’s always seen me as nothing more than my mother’s daughter—a good-for-nothing stain on what was supposed to be an idyllic little Maine town.

Or maybe, just maybe, his disdain is more personal. Maybe he blames me for his sister’s death, too.

“No reason for that,” Sienna says firmly, stepping between us before I can respond. “She’s only asking you to be careful with how you manhandle Kayla. That’s hardly a crime, Deputy.”