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Still, there’s another question I haven’t been able to shake. One that’s been haunting me almost as much as the possibility of his guilt.

What if he says yes?

What if he looks me straight in the eye and admits that he’s the one who’s been killing the Reds?

Would it change how I feel about him?

I stare at my reflection, searching for an answer I already know.

No. I’d still love Milo just as fiercely as I always have, even if he turned out to be a murderer.

I don’t know what kind of person that makes me, though.

Jesus Christ. What the fuck is wrong with me?

I shake my head, grab my purse, and give myself one final look before leaving the room. There’s no point standing here driving myself insane over something I don’t even know is true.

I lock my door and head downstairs, expecting to find Sienna waiting for me in the lobby. As I reach the bottom of the staircase, I spot her standing near the reception desk. She’s deep in conversation with Mrs. Trott, still wearing jeans and a T-shirt, her hair pulled back into a ponytail.

“You’re not ready?” I ask as I approach them.

“Oh, hi,” Sienna says, turning toward me.

“Hi? That’s it?” I glance down at her clothes, then look back up at her. “I thought we were going to the reunion together. Aren’t you coming? Because if you’re not, I sure as hell am not going either.”

“No, no. I’m going,” she assures me quickly. “I just got a little sidetracked talking to Mrs. Trott here. Isn’t that right?”

Mrs. Trott gives a small nod, but there’s something about her demeanor that gives me pause. She’s standing unusually stiff behind the reception desk, her hands clasped tightly together. When our eyes meet, she looks away almost immediately.

If I didn’t know any better, I’d say she looks awfully guilty of something.

“Okay,” I say slowly, looking between them. “Well, I guess we can afford to be fashionably late. I’ll wait down here while you go get changed.”

“Don’t be silly. You go on ahead.”

My brows draw together.

“On my own?”

“Yes, of course. I’ll catch up with you.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

I chew on my bottom lip, not particularly thrilled by the idea of walking into that fucking reunion all by myself. Especially after what happened at the vigil last night.

“I don’t know, Sienna. I thought we agreed we’d go together.”

“And we would have, if I hadn’t lost track of time.” She steps closer and places a hand on my shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “I didn’t want to say anything, but I’m waiting on a call.”

“What call?”

“I’m waiting to find out whether Peyton has a bulletproof alibi for every time one of her friends got… you know.” She draws a finger across her throat for emphasis.

“Jesus, Sienna. A little tact, no?” I mutter, disturbed by how little the murders seem to bother her.

“Anyhoo,” she says, ignoring my obvious repulsion. “I need to hang back for a bit, but you go on ahead to the reunion without me. I promise I won’t be long.”