Tim sent me down here to get wine. He wanted me to see that dead body wrapped in the tarp. And now he has trapped me down here.

“Tim!” I bang on the door to the basement. “Tim!”

Everything makes sense in a horrible sort of way. He’s been toying with me all this time. That sandalwood aftershave—he must have known how I felt about it. What if he was the one who splashed it on that night at the farmhouse, so I would think he was Shane? And then, of course, that damn snowflake necklace. He’s the one who gave it to me. He knew that was the necklace used to choke me that night—because he was the one who did it. He kept it all these years, and he gave it to me just to freak me out.

Why did I trust him? I should have listened to Shane. He warned me. He told me that I couldn’t trust Tim Reese. He begged me not to have anything to do with him. But I didn’t believe him. There were so many signs and I ignored every single one of them because I blindly trusted Tim

—the boy I knew since we were babies.

Tim is sick. I never realized it until this moment. “Tim! Let me out of here!”

He can’t keep me down here, can he? He would never get away with it. Margie knows I’m here and so does Josh. If I didn’t come home, they would know. They would call the police and tell them where I am.

Unless he plans to do something to them too…

I’ve got to get out of here. I can’t let him do to me what he did to Kelli. But how? I brought my phone with me, but it’s in my purse, which I left on his living room sofa.

The knob shakes slightly. I hear Tim grunt, and I take a step back as the door pops open. He is standing in front of me, his eyes looking almost hollow in the light of the hallway.

“Sorry about that,” he says. “Door must have stuck.”

I stare at him. Is he really pretending like I didn’t just see what I saw down there?

He raises his eyebrows. “What wine did you pick out?”

I glance over my shoulder at the bottle of Merlot that is lying shattered on the floor of the basement. “Actually, I’m not feeling so great. I… I think I’ll head out.”

“Seriously?” His jaw tightens. “I just spent the last hour cooking dinner. You’re really going to leave?”

“I…” I press my fingertips against my temple. “I have a migraine.” “You get migraines? You never mentioned that to me.”

“Well, I do.”

“Because this is the first time you have had a migraine the entire time we’ve been together.”

My temple throbs—in another second or two, I really will have a migraine. “So I’m not allowed to have a goddamn migraine? Is that what you’re saying?”

He jerks his head back. “That’s not what I’m saying. I’m just saying… don’t go. Let’s talk for a minute.”

“I’d rather not.”

“Is this about what I said earlier? I’m sorry I said anything. I didn’t mean to pressure you.”

“I want to leave, Tim.”

I don’t wait for an answer. I push past him to the front door, snatching my purse off the sofa. My phone is in there and so is my pepper spray—I’ll use it if I have to, although I hope I don’t. Tim races to catch up with me. His legs are much longer than mine, and he grabs my arm before I even make it to the living room. His fingers encircle my forearm, digging into my skin.

“Brooke,” he says. There’s a look in his eyes that I barely recognize. This is not the Tim that I know—it’s another side of him I’ve never seen before.

“Let me go,” I hiss at him. “Brooke, what—”

At that second, the doorbell rings. Tim looks at the door, then back at me. He releases my arm, and I back away from him, my body trembling. At the same moment I do, he notices the flashing red and blue lights through the window by the doorway. “What the…?”

It’s the police. What are they doing here? It’s like I called them psychically.

I hang back as Tim marches over to the door. He twists the locks and throws the door open. He seems taken aback by the appearance of a uniformed officer on his front porch. Relief washes over me. The officer is tall and muscular and looks like he could take Tim in a fight.

“Thank God you’re here!” I gasp before the cop can open his mouth. “He wasn’t letting me leave, and… and there’s a dead body in the basement.”

Tim’s jaw drops. “A dead body? Brooke, how could you—”

The police officer seems just as shocked as Tim. I’m still not sure how he ended up here or what he wants with Tim, but he takes a step into the house, his hand on his holster. “Are you Timothy Reese?”

“Yes.” Tim’s eyes are bulging out. “But… but this is crazy! Brooke, what are you thinking?”

“You have a body in the basement,” I spit at him. “I saw it! Is it Kelli?”

“Kelli! Are you out of your mind?” He looks between me and the cop. “Officer, this is completely insane. There’s nothing in my basement.”

“And her scarf is on the coffee table,” I tell the officer.

Tim gapes at me. “What are you talking about? That’s my mother’s

scarf.”

The officer speaks into what looks like a walkie-talkie mounted on his chest. A second later, a second officer appears at the door. “Mr. Reese,” the first officer says, “we came here because of an anonymous tip that a missing woman named Kelli Underwood was seen entering your home the night of her disappearance.”

I think I’m going to throw up. All this time, I believed Tim was a good guy. How could I have been so wrong? I wish I could take back the last ten years.

“This is ridiculous,” Tim says. “I didn’t even know Kelli Underwood.” “How can you say that?” I cry. “You went out with her! You kissed

her!”

The color drains out of Tim’s face. He flashes the officers a helpless look. “Okay, I went out with her once. Months ago. I haven’t even seen her in at least two months.”

“He’s lying!” Tears gather in my eyes. “She’s down in the basement, wrapped in a tarp. I saw her!”

“This is insane!” Tim cries. “I promise you, Officer, there is no dead body in my basement. All I’ve got there is a wine cellar—I swear.”

The first officer locks eyes with Tim. “You mind if we take a look in your basement?”

There’s a look of growing panic on Tim’s face as he looks between me and the policeman. “Listen…” His voice trembles. “Just wait. Wait. You don’t need to—”

I don’t know the law, but I’m guessing that the officer has probable cause at this point. He brushes past Tim, who looks like he’s going to have a stroke. Tim starts to follow him, shouting protests, but the other officer, who is older with gray hair, drops a firm hand on his shoulder.

“You stay right here, son,” the cop says to Tim.

“There’s nothing down there.” Tim’s eyebrows are scrunched together. “It’s just my wine cellar.”

The tears are dripping down my face now. I can’t stop them. The cop notices me crying and flashes me a sympathetic look. “Are you okay, Miss? Did he hurt you?”

“I didn’t hurt her!” Tim bursts out. His face is bright red. “Brooke is my girlfriend. I would never…”

A voice floats up from the basement. “We got a dead body down here!

Looks like Underwood!”

Quick as a flash, the older officer whips a pair of handcuffs off his belt. Tim looks like he’s about to be sick now. “Timothy Reese, you are under arrest for the murder of Kelli Underwood.”

“Please…” Tim’s face is turning pink as the cop snaps the cuffs on his wrists. “I don’t know what’s in my basement, but I didn’t put her there. I swear to you…”

But the cop isn’t listening. He reads Tim his rights as he hustles him toward the front door. I watch the entire thing, and it’s so surreal, I feel like if I pinch myself hard, I might wake up in my bed, in a cold sweat. Tim killed Kelli Underwood and stashed her body in his basement, likely intending to get rid of it at some point. He probably also killed that girl Tracy Gifford all those years ago. And I’m almost certain that he was the one who strangled me that night.

I got it all wrong. I made a terrible mistake and trusted the wrong person. Because of that mistake, a murderer went free and now a girl is

dead.

I have to do whatever I can to make this right.