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“You’re my best friend, Max. What could possibly have happened that night that you’d feel the need to lie to me, too?” She presses her lips together, even as her eyes begin to water. “I didn’t like the answer I came up with.”

I lower my gaze to the grass, unable to meet the hurt in Sienna’s eyes.

“So I waited until you left, picked the lock, and did a little snooping in your room,” she admits. “I kept telling myself I’d find nothing. That I’d feel like the worst friend ever afterward and have to spend the rest of my life making it up for doubting you. But then I opened your laptop, and there it was. A confession disguised as a manuscript.”

She shakes her head, blinking back tears.

“You changed the names, sure, but everything else was there in black and white. The murders. The details nobody outside the investigation should’ve known. Even things I hadn’t been able to piece together until I read them.”

I don’t say anything.

“You would’ve gotten away with it, too,” she says. “Chief Neptune would never have pieced it all together. And maybe you were counting on that. Maybe you figured no one in Fairhope would ever be able to connect the dots.” She pauses, as though the realization has only just occurred to her. “But you didn’t count on me coming back, did you? Asking questions and finding things that didn’t add up. If I hadn’t been here, you probably would’ve gotten away with every last murder.” Her voice breaks. “I hate that I’m the one who has to do this to you.”

I lift my sight from the grass and offer my best friend a weak smile.

“It’s okay, Sienna,” I tell her. “I’m glad it’s you.”

She nods, struggling to keep her emotions in check. Then she slowly gets to her feet.

“Are you ready?”

I look at Milo one last time, taking in every detail of his face, desperate to commit it all to memory. The familiar curve of his mouth. The softness in his eyes. Everything about him that I’ve loved for as long as I can remember.

He looks at me with so much tenderness that my heart aches.

“I love you,” he mouths.

My lips tremble as I mouth the words back.

“I love you, too.”

Then I draw in a shaky breath and rise to my feet, turning toward Sienna.

“I’m ready.”

I hold out my wrists.

Sienna reaches for her handcuffs, the sadness etched on her face making it painfully clear how much this is hurting her. But she doesn’t hesitate.

“Maxine Morgan, you’re under arrest for murder.”

The mattress beneath me is barely three inches thick, and every time I shift, the metal frame lets out a miserable squeak. Not that I’ve done much shifting. I’ve spent the better part of the morning lying on my back, staring at the water stain spreading across the ceiling, trying to decide whether it looks more like a bird with its wings clipped or a woman with her arms outstretched.

Funny how the mind works when there’s little left to occupy it.

The fluorescent light above the narrow corridor flickers every few seconds, accompanied by a faint electrical hum that’s been driving me slowly insane.

Or perhaps I’m already there.

After all, they’re transferring me to a psychiatric hospital later today. Apparently, Lauren’s lawyers want to determine just how much sanity I have left.

I could save them the trouble.

None of it.

I remain staring at the stain when I hear footsteps approaching, followed by the familiar jangle of keys.

I don’t bother sitting up.