Chelsea is kneeling over Brandon’s body, sobbing quietly. She reaches out a hand and runs it over his slack jaw. The rest of us stand on the porch, the boys shifting uncomfortably. Shane must be gutted over this too—Brandon was his best friend—but he hasn’t said much of anything since we discovered the body. Not that I’d expect a teenage guy to start bawling the way Chelsea is.

Chelsea raises her tear-streaked face to look at us. “What are we going to do with the body?”

Shane and Tim exchange looks. “We’re going to leave him here,” Shane says.

“You’re just going to leave him?” Chelsea bursts out as she rises to her feet. “Out in the cold?”

I don’t say what the rest of us are thinking, which is that Brandon isn’t going to be bothered by the cold. Not anymore.

“I’ve got some extra blankets in the linen closet,” Shane offers, “if you want one.”

Chelsea hesitates for a second, then nods. Shane goes back into the house while the three of us wait on the porch. Tim is standing just a couple of inches away from me—so close that I can almost feel the heat of his body. He reaches out his hand and makes contact with mine, giving it a comforting squeeze for a split second before the door bangs open again and Shane returns with the blanket.

The wool blanket is sky blue and looks like it would be itchy, except Brandon isn’t going to mind very much. Chelsea gently lays the blanket over his lower body, pausing as if not sure if she should put it over his head or not. Finally, she covers his face too, turning her boyfriend into nothing more than a darkening lump on the front porch.

She presses her fingertips to her lips, then holds them out to him. “I love you, baby.”

Did she though? Did she really? Only yesterday we were talking on the phone and she said, I hate that cheating asshole.

She looks back at the rest of us as if expecting us to chime in. I hardly knew Brandon, and what I knew of him, I didn’t much like. But I don’t want to leave Chelsea hanging, so I murmur, “We’ll miss you, Brandon.”

“Miss you,” Tim chimes in after a beat, even though he disliked Brandon as much as I did.

Chelsea looks at Shane, whose eyes have gone glassy. “We’re going to find who did this to you, man,” Shane says. “And we’re going to make him pay.”

Now that we’ve said our goodbyes to Brandon, Chelsea consents to going back into the house to figure out our options for our next move. Unfortunately, those options are limited. The phone lines are dead, either from the storm or something more ominous. The tires are slashed on both of our two vehicles. And the storm outside is still raging as bad as it ever was.

“Kayla didn’t have much luck walking back to the main road.” Chelsea stands in the middle of the living room, wringing water out of her long hair. “But I bet one of you guys could make it. It’s not that far, is it? Like, a mile?”

“A mile and a half.” Shane makes a face. “And you saw how slippery the road is, so it’s a difficult hike. But what worries me more is that with the amount of wind, there could be some power lines that came down. One wrong step and you could get electrocuted.”

Great. So our choices are to stay here with a murderer lurking around or risk getting drowned or electrocuted.

“I think we should stay put until the storm dies down,” Shane says. “At the very least, we might get our phone service back. And the roads will dry out.”

I look at Tim with my eyebrows raised. He lets out a long sigh. “I agree. It’s not safe out there right now.”

Both of the boys seem firmly in favor of staying put. I look over at Chelsea, who is completely waterlogged. Her mascara has dissolved into streaks running down her cheeks, even though she always gets waterproof. I guess waterproof mascara isn’t a match for the storm.

“Brooke,” she says, “can I talk to you?” She eyes the boys. “Alone.”

She doesn’t wait for an answer. She seizes me by the arm and pulls me out of the room, leaving Shane and Tim staring after us. She doesn’t stop until we’re at the back door, which she wrenches open and pulls me outside, slamming the door closed behind her.

“Chelsea, it’s cold out!” I hug my arms to my chest. “Can we go back inside?”

“No.” Chelsea glances at the back door almost accusingly. “I’m really freaked out, Brooke. Somebody did this to Brandon. They… he was stabbed. Someone stabbed him to death! He’s dead!”

“I know…”

She swipes at her eyes with the back of her hand. “We’re not safe here.

You know that, don’t you? We need to get out of here.”

“You saw what happened to Kayla when she tried to make a run for

it…”

Her eyes look wild with the leaking mascara. “Kayla was the worst

cheerleader on the squad—she could barely make it through a practice session. You and me—I bet we could make it. And if not us, the boys could for sure.”

“But you heard what Shane said about the power lines…”

“Or maybe he doesn’t want us to leave. Did you think of that?”

Yes, I did think of that. But it still makes sense. I’m not excited to wander out in the mess outside, especially without proper footwear. Isn’t that how people get frostbite?

“Shane’s not a murderer,” I say firmly. “It was probably some drifter wandering through the area. There’s no way it could have been one of us.”

Chelsea is gulping as she tries to take in air. She looks like she’s seconds away from having a panic attack.

“Chels?” I scrunch my eyebrows together. “Chelsea, you have to breathe. Take some deep breaths, okay?”

“I’m okay.” She closes her eyes, concentrating on her breath. “I’ll be okay.”

I’m not sure what to do. Don’t they say you’re supposed to put your head between your legs in this situation? But Chelsea seems like she’s got it under control. She’s hanging onto me, taking deep breaths until her shoulders relax. I wait outside with her, even though it’s pretty cold out

here. Although now that the power is out, it’s pretty cold inside too. But at least the wind wouldn’t be flicking droplets of water at us.

“You okay now?” I ask her when she finally opens her eyes. Chelsea nods.

“We need to go back inside.” I don’t phrase it as a question. If she doesn’t come with me, I’m going anyway. “We can’t stay out here.”

She looks at me for a moment, then she nods. I turn the doorknob to the back door and push it open, feeling obscenely grateful for the dry air in the kitchen. It’s dark in the kitchen, and we both jump when we hear the door to the room crack open.

“Brooke?” It’s Tim’s voice—I’m relieved. While I know Shane isn’t a murderer, there’s nobody I trust more than Tim Reese. “That you?”

I nod, but then realize he probably can’t see me. The room is all shadows. “Yes, we’re back. Where’s Shane?”

“He went outside to see if he could get a cell phone signal.” Chelsea tugs on my arm. “I need to sit down, Brooke.”

Chelsea feels really shaky again, so I help her across the kitchen and into the living room. Tim helps support her and we get her up on the sofa. She ends up lying down, her hand strewn across her face. Whatever comes of this, Chelsea will never be the same. Finding her boyfriend murdered has done a number on her.

“Hey.” Tim taps me on the shoulder. “Can I talk to you for a second in the kitchen?”

I squint at Chelsea in the darkness. She looks okay for now. “Fine. But I don’t want to leave her for too long.”

Tim leads me into the kitchen. As we disappear behind the door, the thought flits through my head that none of us should be alone right now. We should stick together. Yet we’re leaving Chelsea alone in the living room, and Shane is wandering around outside.

What if something has happened to Shane? What if he’s lying on the ground dead like Brandon?

“So I took another look under the blanket.” Tim winces as he says the words. “It looks like Brandon was stabbed to death.”

“He… he was?”

Tim’s face is so close to mine, I can make out all his features in the dark. But I can’t see the freckles that are usually slightly visible when I’m

close to him. “But there wasn’t a knife next to him. I couldn’t find one, anyway.”

“Oh…”

Tim jerks his head at the kitchen counter. “I got worried that whoever it was would come back, so I went to get a knife from the kitchen. And guess what? All the knives are gone.”

I stare at him. “What?”

“Right? Pretty weird. There’s a knife block on the counter and it’s empty.”

I shiver and hug myself. “So what does that mean?”

“I’d say it means that whoever did this planned it in advance and got rid of all the other weapons in the house.”

“Tim.” I feel like I’m choking. “What are you saying?” “I think you know exactly what I’m saying, Brooke.”