Chapter 44

Dean’s POV

We don't talk long after that. There's nothing left to say that doesn't just make the room heavier, so Dad closes the folder and tells us to enjoy the evening, like it’s possible after what we’ve just learned.

I go back out to the party. I smile when I need to smile. Shake hands. The whole time, somewhere underneath all of it, my mind keeps repeating — this is a murderer — over and over again, no matter how hard I try to keep it down.

The dinner winds down eventually, guests peeling off in twos and threes, string lights still glowing over mostly empty tables. I find her sitting alone at the edge of the tables, one shoe already off, examining her foot with a grimace.

"Oh, that's bad," she mutters, half to herself, twisting her ankle to get a better look at the back of her heel. "That is so bad."

"What happened?"

"These shoes happened. I should never have trusted a shoe