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circles. The wry laughter she’d seen dance there was gone. It was all bleary redness.
    “I …” Before he could continue, Rose jumped to her feet and flew to Hannah’s side. Helping Hannah clean upthe broken glass seemed like her best option. But when she reached for a shard of glass the edge sliced her finger. Blood rushed to the surface before the pain even registered.
    James appeared with a towel.
    “You should watch yourself, Rose.” He stumbled a little, his lips twisted into an unstable smile. “I’m dangerous, you know.”
    He reached for her, and Rose jerked her arm away, a drop of blood falling to the floor. Her stomach churned. She was 99% sure she’d throw up if he touched her. Luckily he just tossed her the towel and laughed when it landed on top of the broken shards.
    The James that she had known all summer was gone. Or maybe he’d never really existed at all. She would never admit it to Mari or even herself, but when she had lied to her dad the night of Willa’s death, she had lied for James. Holding the towel to her finger, she couldn’t deny the facts any longer. She couldn’t pretend that the asshole staggering around the sunroom was innocent. When James stumbled past the table Madge, Lina, and Sloane now shared with Mrs. Westinghouse, Rose held her breath again. Everyone did.
    Even though he was a drunken murderer, James Gregory was still the crowned prince of Hawthorne Lake. If one of the girls made a move, life as they knew it would end.
    Rose waited, silently hoping one of them would race forward, claw at his jugular, tear at his heart. She wondered if grief could make a person brave. All three of them sat perfectly still. Anger and righteous indignation bubbled up in Rose’s chest. How could they sit there and tolerate a guy who should be in jail? They were
smiling
, even.
    But when she looked closely at Madge, the towel around her finger darkening with blood, Rose realized the smilenever made it to her eyes. And then—so fast that if Rose had blinked a second earlier she might have missed it—Madge nodded sharply at Lina and Sloane. The girls’ smiles broadened ever so slightly in return.

Chapter 5
    The dated locker room was one of the few places in the Club where Rose felt comfortable. At least she could be alone there. Surrounded by faded pink floral wallpaper and the yellowing Formica countertops, Rose’s heartbeat slowed. The women of the Club were constantly petitioning for a renovation, but there was never money left in the budget after golf course repairs, new meeting room accommodations, and the countless upgrades to the men’s locker room. Muzak played softly in the background, and the air was heavy with the scent of potpourri. She hadn’t realized how much the morning—or if she were being honest, James’s presence—had shaken her. She needed time to think.
    She did a quick sweep of the locker room. When she was sure she was alone, she slipped through a hidden door into the laundry room. Technically, the employees-only parts of the Club were off-limits to Rose, but the laundress always took a late lunch. Lately, the rhythmic beatingof the washers and dryers was the only noise that could drown out all the voices in her head.
    The tension in her shoulders eased as she threw herself on top of a pile of freshly laundered towels heaped in the corner. She squeezed her eyes shut. The fluffy warmth of the towels, the drone of the washing machines … it was better than Ambien. Maybe she could sneak a nap and would finally sleep.
    And then she heard the voices.
    “She’s dead, and we know who killed her. We have to do something …”
    Rose’s eyes snapped open.
    “He killed my sister, and his brother is helping him cover it up.”
    She stared at the vent in the ceiling. The voice belonged to Madge Ames-Rowan.
    “But what about the police? Couldn’t we just talk to them? I mean, that detective seemed nice. He said he’d listen …” Rose could barely place the