No way would Madge let that happen to Willa. No way would Willa end up a forgotten trophy wife. So she marched over to her sister and decided to end this stupidity once and for all.

"Can I talk to you?" Madge stood with her back to James, refusing to even acknowledge his existence.

" 'Course you can!" Willa chirped but didn't stop swaying to the beat.

"In private. I need to talk to you in private."

But Willa just kept dancing. Madge grabbed her arm and yanked her out onto the deck of the boat. Maybe some fresh air would do her good.

"You've had too much to drink. We should go."

"I'm not going anywhere. James and I are finally talking. I want to stay." She sang the words like a toddler, still swaying on her feet, even though there was no music. Her eyes were bleary and her words were slurred. This was worse than Madge thought.

"Come on, I've got to get you home."

"No way. You're not going to ruin this for me. Not tonight." Willa slithered out of Madge's grasp and started walking back toward the party. "You're just jealous. You hate seeing me happy. Well, sorry, Madge, I'm not going to spend the best years of my life moping around. I'd rather love and lose or live and love." She paused and giggled. "Whatever. You know what I mean."

Madge knew exactly what she meant. She'd heard the same accusations out of Willa every time she tried to steer her away from James. And some of it was true. She was jealous. But she was also afraid of the way her stepmother encouraged Willa. She was afraid that on some twisted level, Carol was pulling the strings, coaxing her beautiful daughter to chase after the heir to the Hawthorne Lake empire.

"You are throwing yourself at some jacka.s.s," Madge spat. "Who isn't the least bit interested, for the record, all because you think it's what you're supposed to do." Her voice rose, but she couldn't stop the words from pouring out. "You're such a stereotype, Willa. Blonde, beautiful princess who thinks she's in love with a dark, handsome a.s.shole, but really she's been manipulated and raised to think she should fall in love. Give it up. You reek of desperation. Or maybe it's eau de gold digger. Just like your mother."

Too far. She'd gone too far. Madge expected her sister to burst into tears. To slap her. To run away.

What she did not expect was for Willa to laugh in her face.

"You're so completely tragic, you know that?" The words came out jumbled-sounding. Willa was becoming more wasted by the minute despite the fact that Madge hadn't seen her take a sip. Willa spun on her heels and started back toward the party, but didn't make it more than four steps before falling in a puddle of drunk girl.

Trip appeared out of nowhere. "Whoa," he said, bending to Willa's side.

s.h.i.t. How long had he been there? What had he heard? Madge liked to think she didn't care about the Gregorys or what they thought, but she did. It was impossible to be a member at the Club and not care about them.

"Easy there, killer." Trip helped Willa back up into a standing position. "Hey, let's get you out of here ..." He nodded at Madge.

She felt a slight sense of relief at having someone on her team. Maybe he'd step up and actually help get Willa home. Maybe he'd surprise her.

But then James stumbled onto the deck. Her face brightened as she slipped from beneath Trip's grasp, drawn to him like a magnet. Madge marveled at how much more drunk he appeared compared to a half hour ago. His light hair was mussed, his eyelids so heavy it was a wonder he could see. The transformation was dangerous. They laughed hysterically at each other as though Trip and Madge were invisible, which in a way they pretty much were. Eclipsed by their siblings.

"Keep an eye on her, Trip. I'm gonna grab my purse and get her home." Madge was ready to end the night. Trip wasn't the most responsible guy in the world, but surely he'd be able to keep an eye on Willa for five minutes while she grabbed her bag.

She should have known better.

As Madge ducked into a guest room to retrieve her purse, she heard the revving of a motorboat. She ran back out onto the deck just in time to see James driving the boat away.

Trip stood at the railing, screaming into the night. But his voice was nothing against the boat's motor.

"What the h.e.l.l?" Madge shouted. "How could you have let them go?"

Trip was serious for once in his life, his normal grin replaced by confusion. "I tried to stop them, but you know James. He's kind of impossible to stop when he decides he wants something." He grabbed Madge's arm and pulled her toward the stairs that led to the opposite end of the yacht. "Come on, there's another skiff over here. We'll get them back." Trip climbed in and started the engine, then lent a hand for Madge to follow. The narrow wood creaked and teetered under her heels. She quickly sat down before she fell over. "I know exactly where James takes girls. There's a sandbar not too far from here. Guarantee they'll either be pa.s.sed out or making out."

The boat bounced over the dark water. She felt queasy. The cool spray across her arms and legs did nothing to extinguish her anger. Willa was taking stupidity to a whole new level tonight, and Madge was sick of having to pick up the pieces. Without thinking, she s.n.a.t.c.hed up her phone and texted: when i find u i'm gonna kill u. She almost hesitated-not because she regretted the words, but because she'd texted the exact same message dozens of time in the past and Willa always laughed it off. Madge could never sound serious enough. i mean it, she added, then pressed send.

"Sucks being the older sibling, right?" Trip laughed.

"Uh yeah, it does." She tucked her phone back in her bag. "But aren't you like five minutes younger than James or something?"

"Well, that depends on your source." Trip shook his head, his red hair catching in the moonlight. "According to my grandfather I'm younger, but my birth certificate says I was first."

"But why would they lie? I don't get it."

"Oh come on, you know how the story goes. He hates me. I'm the reason my parents are dead. In the old man's eyes I'm a killer." Trip's smile stopped at his eyes.

Madge wasn't sure how to respond to that. She twisted the chain of her key necklace around her finger. She'd heard the rumors about the head-on collision that killed his parents, but she'd never guessed they were actually true. Or maybe she'd found them too creepy to think about.

"And here are the little lovebirds now." Trip maneuvered over to where James's boat idled near a sand bar. From a distance it looked empty but as they pulled in closer, Madge could make out Willa and James lying in the bottom, not moving.

"Jesus, they pa.s.sed out." Madge moved over to the edge and tried to get a better look. The boat rocked slightly beneath her weight, water lapping up around the side.

"Don't freak out. You know how to drive a boat, right?" Trip kicked off his shoes and climbed over the edge, the water rising to his knees as he waded to the other boat.

Madge nodded mutely.

"Great. I'll follow you back. Take it slow. It's dark."

"You sure?"

"I'm sure," Trip said. "Just get back to the yacht."

Madge swallowed. She nodded again and pushed the boat into gear. She was going to kill Willa for this. Literally strangle her. But maybe this was finally the wake-up call she needed. Maybe now she'd begin to see how stupid she was acting. Maybe she'd even realize that her mother was manipulating her.

Fireworks bloomed in the sky as Madge made her way back to the yacht. They were somehow even more beautiful from the quiet of the deep lake, the colors lingering in the dark sky long after another burst had taken its place. She felt a calmness wash over her, a bit of the anger finding its way out. She'd always loved fireworks. Ever since she was little. She and Willa would lay out on a blanket, bellies full of candy, glow-in-the-dark bracelets trailing up their arms. Willa would hold Madge's hand, scared of the loud noises. Madge's hand felt empty as she flew through the black water.

By the time she found her way back to the yacht, the show was over, but the party was still in full swing. She stood at the stern, watching for the little vessel that carried her sister. Her stomach twisted. What was taking them so long? A sick feeling of dread wormed its way into her throat.

After an eternity, she heard the engine.

She was down the stairs and next to the boat just in time to see Trip drag a semi-conscious James onto the yacht. She craned her neck. "Trip! Where's Willa?"

His eyes were wild when they met hers. He nearly dropped his brother. "She's not here? I was praying she was with you. She's not with you?" The words tumbled out of his mouth, each one b.u.mping into the next. Madge had never heard him so scared, had never seen his face so warped.

"Trip? My sister? Where the h.e.l.l is she?" She'd heard him wrong. This wasn't happening. She was face to face with him now. Or as close as she could get to his six-foot-four frame. He shook his head at her, his eyes flicking across the deck and behind her, forcing her to take a step back. "Willa." She whispered her name.

"My grandfather. We need to find my grandfather now!"

But instead of following Trip, Madge threw her bag aside, kicked off her shoes, and dove into the water. She swam back toward the sandbar in long practiced strokes. Willa was still there. She had to be. Her muscles burned and cried. It had taken five minutes by skiff. Maybe it took her five minutes swimming. Or an hour. She'd lost all sense of time. When Madge finally reached the sandbar, she waded onto the shallow waters and sat down to wait for Willa to return. This was just one of the Gregorys' stupid practical jokes. Madge knew if she waited there long enough, Willa would show up giggling and make fun of her overly serious sister.

So Madge waited. And waited.

The moon had practically set when the first of the search boats appeared. At first she struggled against the police who tried to pry her off her perch. She only stopped when she saw the men on one of the other boats fish her sister's body from the lake. She watched them try to revive her with chest pumps and mouth-to-mouth breathing. She watched them give up when Willa didn't respond.

Sometimes Madge still believed that if only they'd have left her alone out there a little longer, if only the Captain's search party had faced some sort of delay, Willa would have finally swum back to her. Just a few more minutes and she would have come back. Madge was sure of it.

Chapter 27.

Madge dreamt of a doorbell. It ripped through the thick silence on the beach. It clanged from Willa's blue lips. By the fourth ding, Madge shot up and found herself in bed, her heart slamming wildly in her chest. The previous night flooded over her, the look of disappointment etched across Rose's face. And as hard as Madge tried to dredge up a feeling of regret, as much as she tried to conjure up any type of guilt, she couldn't seem to muster either. Maybe she was just too tired.

The doorbell rang again.

Madge rubbed her eyes, trying to focus on the time on her phone and what the numbers meant. Her head finally cleared enough to comprehend that 7:26 A.M. meant it was too early for doorbells. She slipped on a bra under her T-shirt and poked her head out the door, gripping her phone like a weapon.

"Carol?" She waited a beat. "Dad?"

The doorbell sounded again. This time it sent a shudder through her system. She knew she was alone-since Willa's funeral, she'd almost always found herself alone after 7 A.M.-and anyone could be standing behind that door. The house felt insubstantial, the walls too thin, a window easily broken, the alarm they never set, worthless. Madge ducked into Willa's room and pulled a tiny section of her curtain back to check the driveway. The window was cool on her cheek, the air conditioner on overdrive, and her breath fogged the gla.s.s. Lina's car was parked in front with Rose's close behind.

Her relief was short-lived. Sick regret began to consume her. She was awake now. She thought of the previous night, of the semi-out-of-body-experience she'd had when approaching the Gregorys' house-pulling on the brake line, the potential destruction it could have caused if everything had gone right. Or wrong, depending upon how you looked at it.

When she opened the door, she saw Sloane first, looking like someone had died all over again. Lina towered over her, somehow managing to look even more jagged and raw than usual. Maybe it was the fresh tattoo on her left wrist, still swollen and seeping around the edges. Anger radiated off of her in waves but there was something else there too-something Madge couldn't place. Rose hovered in the background, off the front steps near the gra.s.s. Maybe she was scared of what would happen now that she'd managed to unite Madge's friends together against her. Or maybe she wanted to avoid the new outsider.

Rose opened her mouth to speak, but Lina beat her to it.

"How could you do that?" she spat.

Madge took a step back.

"Do you realize what could have happened? If one of them died, it would be traced back to you, to us. And then what?" Lina threw her hands in the air, pacing back and forth in the entryway. Her eyes were gla.s.sy with tears that would never dare fall in front of them. Madge had never seen her so upset. Not even the night of Willa's death. "I get that the War isn't enough for you, that you're on some sort of suicide mission. If you have a death wish, that's fine. Awesome. But don't drag us down with you. I'm not about to destroy my life for those a.s.sholes, and you shouldn't be either. They've already done enough damage."

"I ... I ..." Madge began but could formulate no response. For once in her life she had nothing to say. She looked at Rose. She wanted to hate her for reporting back to Sloane and Lina, for giving her up. But she couldn't. She saw nothing but concern in Rose's dark eyes and nothing but disappointment in Sloane's. Still, all she could think about was how she hadn't tried hard enough the previous night, that if she were a little stronger, if she'd had more time, if she'd planned ahead, she could have won. She wondered if this was what James felt like when he reached for another drink. Powerless to stop- The phone buzzed in her hand, and she dropped it to the wood floor in surprise. It continued vibrating along the planks. At the same time, Sloane's chirped, Lina's rattled in her purse, and Rose's jingled. Madge's eyes widened. It was too much of a coincidence to be a coincidence.

A text had arrived. Caller Unknown. A link to a webpage. Nothing else. As if in a nightmare, the four girls picked up their phones and clicked on the series of numbers and letters.

Lina went pale first, her finger instinctively deleting the message before she even had time to a.n.a.lyze it. When Madge turned her eyes back on her own phone, she saw why. A photo jumped onto her screen: Lina standing next to a girl Madge recognized as a bartender from the Club, her hand draped lazily over Lina's shoulder. Their faces were a whisper apart, the girl's teeth seemingly biting Lina's ear.

Coupled with the shocking image were five simple words.

Is she or isn't she?

Another photo appeared. This time Sloane's eyes went wide, her chest rising and falling with rapid breaths as though she were about to hyperventilate. On the screen was a picture of a sheet of paper, PSAT test results typed at the top, certain lines highlighted in glaring yellow.

28 Critical Reading 22 Mathematics 33 Writing Skills 10th percentile I thought all Asians were smart?

The slideshow continued.

Or maybe she's just street smart.

The shot was blurry, but clearly showed Sloane handing something to Rory O'Neil, the stoner from Lina's pictures. Either she was buying drugs or selling them, but as tears slipped down her cheeks and she crouched to the floor shaking, the difference didn't matter.

Sloane threw her phone to the ground like it was a hand grenade.

Madge held her breath. Rose was next. Not that it offered Madge much comfort.

This photo was of the Captain's hands beneath a woman's dress, her hair dark and wild, her skin rich like her daughter's. If Madge didn't know better, she'd wonder if it was Rose in the picture, her face lifted to the ceiling in ecstasy.

The detective's wife has a hobby.

Madge thought she might be sick. She was next. She wanted to be alone for it, to witness whatever it was in solitude so she could wrap her head around it, process the destruction by herself. And retaliate.

"What's happening?" Lina whispered through her hand clamped over her lips. "Sloane, what is this? That's the guy who supplies the Gregorys with pills ..." She held her phone up with the picture of Sloane and the druggie.

Sloane shook her head defensively, crying uncontrollably. She held her own phone out to Lina. "Why didn't you tell me? I'm your best friend."

Scarlet spread across Lina's face and she deflected Sloane's question by turning to Rose, her eyes like daggers. "It's true? This is why you wanted in? To protect your s.l.u.t of a mother? Because-"

"SHUT UP!" Madge yelled. "Everybody inside."

Without a word, they followed her into the hall. She slammed the front door behind them. Her hand shook as she looked down at the screen. She felt her stomach drop out from under her as she read the words on the screen. There was no picture on this last slide.

You killed her, Madge. I have proof.

"It's you, isn't it?" Lina choked on the words.

"What?"

"You sent out this slideshow. Is this all part of some twisted plan to keep us in the War? Are you blackmailing us into fighting?"

Madge collapsed under the weight of the accusation. "No, G.o.d no. How could you ..." She couldn't bring herself to finish her question. How could they think that? How could they not?

"You don't understand. It wasn't ... I would never ... Just look." Madge held out her phone. "This is a message for me. They saved me for last because I started this!"

"But who else could have gotten these?" Sloane shook her head at her phone as though it held answers instead of an unknown number. Her forehead twisted under the weight of everything.

"James?" Lina asked, her voice barely audible.

"Not James. Trip." Rose spoke with a quiet authority.

"But I thought James was the one who caught you guys last night," Lina stated.

Madge found she could no longer breathe. She could only watch in horror as her friends, the three people closest to her in the world-yes, even Rose-debated her innocence. For the first time in her life, she truly understood what "powerless" meant.

"No, he was there, too. In the window. He saw everything." Rose looked to Madge, who nodded. She remembered the movement she'd seen in the upstairs window. She remembered the realization she'd had in that moment. She should have known this was coming. Trip was dangerous, much more dangerous than his brother.

Willa's death had been ruled an accident. Trip had made sure to make it look like he'd found James all alone on the boat. Madge knew he was lying. Perhaps she'd always known. But she couldn't say anything without admitting that she'd abandoned her sister out there on the water. She was so mad and so frustrated with Willa that she'd left her there to die. She really was a murderer.