But what I do remember is that my father had the gun when Kiera stepped out of the shadows. My father is the one who pointed it at her. My father is the one who pulled that trigger and shot her that night.
“We could make an excuse,” Steven says. “Have Connor just announce, then leave with no speech. I’ll swoop in and say he’s still recovering from the death of his friends.”
My father blows air out through his nose. He’s glaring at me.
You need to make the announcement. Hayes again. In my head. The media will be there.
He knew.
He knew Louise was a doctor. He knew she used drugs on us to make us forget. He knew Emily saw the whole thing. He knew that book was written by Kiera and he knew that it was the truth.
I’m making one promise with this book.
Just one.
It’s the truth.
We are the Dirty Ones and this is our story.
That’s why he wanted us to read it together. That’s why he said, “It’s not fair, Connor. To keep her as a mistress. She deserves better after all she’s been through. Either love her whole or set her free.”
“No,” I say, forcing myself to stand up, ignoring the pounding heartbeat in my head, and make myself walk straight as I hold out my hand. “No. I’m fine. Give me the speech and let’s do this.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT – KIERA
We are dressed in some mighty fine clothes for Connor’s candidacy announcement party. Sofia, always in red. Me, in winter white. Hayes in a tuxedo. We don’t have invitations, but we don’t need them. Because we come in with Hayes’ parents. There’s some discussion about turning us away when we exit the limo, but Mr. Fitzgerald handles it like the old society pro he is.
Inside I look for Connor. We don’t split up. Never again. Buddy system all the way tonight. So we all look for him, but he’s not here.
“They have him in a room somewhere,” Hayes says, reading my mind. “Don’t worry. He’s here. He’s the only reason this party is happening, Kiera.”
I know it’s true, but all I can think about is what they’ve been doing to him since he was taken on Thursday night.
They killed Camille and Bennett. We’re still not sure how. Hell, we don’t even know who they all are. But we know they did it.
And they shot me once already.
I don’t remember all of it. We need to have a very long discussion about what happened that year. But I remember some of it. After we left the cemetery we got back in the car and drove to the theater building. Went up to the top floor. Hayes pointed things out to jog our memory, and I’m sure he’s right, it was just very hard to picture what he was telling us.
Mr. Arlington, Connor’s father, shot me that night.
But I was lucky. Because I lived. Someone else did not.
“It’s starting,” Sofia says, pointing to a group of people coming through a wide set of double doors. I lean up on my tiptoes, one hand on Sofia’s shoulder, one hand on Hayes’, desperate to get a look at Connor.
“There he is,” Hayes says.
My heart stops when I see him. Because he looks horrible. They have make-up on him and yes, he’s in a suit every bit as nice as the tux Hayes is wearing, but… “Oh, God,” I say. “What did they do to him?”
Sofia reaches for my hand. Squeezes it. “He’s OK,” she says. “He’s alive. He’s fine, don’t worry.”
Everyone starts to make that whisper sound that happens when something is about to start, and then the whole crowd presses forward as Connor approaches the platform set up at a stage at the head of the ballroom.
Connor’s father stands at the microphone. He’s wearing a tux, like everyone else but Connor. I imagine the conversation that went along with that choice. (“Can’t be in a tux when you announce your candidacy for office. Looks too pretentious. Very one percent. And that’s something we need to avoid, son.”)
He taps the microphone. “Is this thing on?” he jokes.
That man shot me. Shot. Me. Because I saw something I shouldn’t have. And if Sofia and Camille weren’t there with me, if I wasn’t with them at the time, if Bennett and Emily and Hayes didn’t see it too, he’d have killed me.
You fucked up that night. You fucked up and instead of owning up to what you did, you ruined us. Turned that whole year into a lie. But you can’t kill all of us, can you, Mr. Arlington?
Not true. He could still kill all of us if we don’t do this right. Even Connor. Especially Connor.
“I want to say thank you for coming to celebrate what is probably the happiest day of my life.” Mr. Arlington turns to look at his son. Connor is pale. Hands clasped in front of him. Flanked on either side by that campaign guy, Steven, and…