We follow him to a small clearing, occupied by a few hot and heavy couples that make my cheeks flush if I look at them too closely. Okay. Yep. Not my business. I refocus my attention on the brown-haired boy leaning against a tree, dressed similarly to how he was the last time we saw him: baggy t-shirt, loose fitting jeans, sneakers.
“Hey, Jack,” Spencer says, slapping palms with his brother. “You didn’t dress up?”
“Nah, I’m not staying,” Jack says, looking past Spencer and over at the rest of us. Me, in particular. He flicks his blue eyes back to Spence’s. “I was sort of hoping we might be able to talk in private?”
“Not a chance in hell,” Ranger says, just as intimidating as always, even in a wig and lavender heels. He crosses muscular arms over his chest and waits, rather impatiently I might add, for Jack to continue. “Well? We know all about the Fellowship of the Divine now, so what can you tell us that we don’t know?”
“Jesus Christ, man, keep your voice down,” Jack hisses, looking around like he expects a monster to leap out at him at any moment. If one did, I mean, we’re appropriately dressed. I’ve got on the Witcher costume, and the boys are prepped to tear off a mask so the villain can shout stuff about meddling kids. “Who told you that shit? And do they, by chance, have a freaking death wish?”
“Lionel Murphy,” Church supplies easily, watching Jack carefully. It’s the little tells, right?
“We saw the missing pages from Jenica’s journal,” Spencer says, and Jack just lifts an eyebrow. I’m guessing he’s never seen or heard about this mysterious journal. “And man, I hate to say it, but it really makes you look guilty.”
“Me?” Jack chokes, looking around again. I don’t see anybody but the happy couples, sexing it up around the clearing. God, teenagers are sort of gross, huh? All hormone-y and shit. Damn, Spencer’s legs look fine in those knee socks. I facepalm but nobody’s paying any attention to me. “Jenica and I were friends.”
“Yeah? So you sell your friends prescription drugs and cocaine, and you don’t give a fuck what it does to their lives?” Ranger asks, stepping forward. Spencer stops him by putting an arm out, and the two exchange a long, studying look before Ranger finally steps back with a growl.
“I didn’t kill her though, if that’s what you’re implying.” Jack looks imploringly at his younger brother. “You know me. I wouldn’t do that; I couldn’t hurt her.”
“Where were you when you were supposed to give her a ride that night, the night she died?” Spencer asks carefully, keeping his gaze trained on his brother’s face. The twins move around our little group in slow circles, pushing away drunken revelers and leaving us with enough space to talk in private.
“When she didn’t show and didn’t answer her phone, I went looking for her,” Jack says, and the way his breath catches, the way sweat beads on his forehead, that tells me right away that I’m not going to like this part of the story. “She was always meeting with Lionel at the clearing with the old angel statues. I went there, and … I saw things I didn’t want to see, okay?”
“Like what?” Spencer asks, voice hardening. He’s pretty intimidating, too, I have to admit—even in his, um, glorious Velma costume. “You can’t possibly look anymore guilty than you do now, so spill it. That’s what you wanted to talk to me about, isn’t it?”
“I came to warn you, you idiot,” Jack says, leaning in toward his brother’s face. “Why the hell do you think I came all the way up here to get you that day? Did you ever wonder who locked you in that cabin and why?”
“The Fellowship,” Church supplies, but Jack ignores him. Spencer’s right: he doesn’t seem like the villainous type, but he’s most definitely selfish and most definitely a coward. The only person Jack cares about is himself, almost the polar opposite of his brother. Spencer was willing to rewrite his whole world view to make sure I fit into it, and Jack wasn’t even willing to rearrange his schedule to meet with Spencer sooner.
“This cult, they’re real, sure. I saw them drag Jenica into the clearing by her hair, barefoot and wearing her freaking nightgown.” Ranger stiffens up at Jack’s words, and I realize with a start that it all makes sense. Jenica wrote that note to Lionel in her journal and tore the page out, like she was in a hurry, choosing to tear up her book instead of finding a separate piece of paper. And the way she cut off that last journal entry mid-sentence? She could’ve been writing in it when she heard or saw something, panicked, and then … she never even got the chance to get dressed before they got her. “They were wearing masks, but I recognized Rick’s voice. I mean, he was always yelling at her, pushing her, grabbing her by the neck.”
