The Person Who Most Resembles the Murderer

Clara's POV

Detective Quinn didn't give me a second to breathe.

She locked down the entire villa. The coroner and forensics came in wave after wave—every window checked, every lock, the alarm system, the magnetic sensor on the back door, the passage to the wine cellar. I was placed alone in a corner of the dining room, a glass of water in my hand that I couldn't force myself to drink. Everyone who looked at me seemed to be waiting for me to slip.

Quinn came back with a tablet. "When was the last time you saw the four victims alive?"

"I'm not sure of the exact time." I tried to keep my hands from shaking. "It was probably after midnight. We were drinking and making noise the whole time. Later, I got really dizzy."

"Did anyone leave the villa?"

"I don't know."

"The surveillance footage says no," she said evenly. "Not through the front door, back door, or kitchen passage. After one a.m., the pier was underwater from the tide, and the outer gate was locked. Every door and window stayed intact."

The words pinned me to the chair.

The Sterling family arrived soon after. Vivian's aunt stormed in first, wearing a black cashmere coat, half her makeup washed off from crying. The second she saw me, she nearly lunged across the room. An officer caught her.

"You're letting her sit here?" She pointed at me. "She's hated Vivian for years. Everyone in town knows it."

A man beside her cut in. "After Ethan left her, how many scenes did she make? You can look it up."

"I never made a scene." I looked up, my throat raw. "After I left school, I never contacted them again—"

"But you came last night." He stared at me. "And Vivian invited you herself. She was too kind to know better."

Kind.

The party sliced back through my head. Old college photos on the projection wall—first dorm pictures, then one of me and Ethan from when we were still together, paused there on purpose. Audrey with a microphone: "Clara, want to give the bride some advice from the ex?" Belle laughing so hard she folded over. Nina acting like she was smoothing things over, then sliding the truth-or-dare question right in front of me. "Have you ever hated Vivian?"

They'd spent the whole night waiting for me to lose control.

Quinn noticed I'd gone still and tapped the table. "What did you just remember?"

"They were trying to humiliate me. Every game was about college. They kept bringing up Ethan. Kept bringing up what happened back then."

"So you were angry."

"Anyone would've been."

"But not everyone has a public grudge with all four victims."

She turned the tablet toward me. The villa's access log timeline. No unknown badge used all night. On the next page, surveillance stills: me by the bar while Audrey shoved a drink into my hand; me gathering up scattered glasses; me alone against the side of the couch. After that, fewer and fewer people appeared in frame.

"You were in contact with the drink area all night," Quinn said.

"Because they spilled alcohol everywhere. I just picked some of it up."

"Who told you to?"

"I don't remember. Maybe Nina. Maybe Belle."

I really couldn't remember. Every burst of laughter last night had felt hooked. But then one detail surfaced.

Just when they were trying to force a second round on me, Vivian had reached over and pressed a hand over my glass.

"That's enough," she'd said. "She doesn't look right."

Audrey had laughed. "What, you feel sorry for her?"

Vivian hadn't answered. She just picked up an unopened bottle of soda water from beside the ice bucket, twisted it open, and handed it to me.

I looked up sharply. "Vivian gave me a separate drink. Not from the bar—a sealed bottle of soda water. She also stopped them from pouring me more."

Vivian's aunt sneered. "So now you're saying she poisoned herself?"

"That's not what I'm saying." I kept my eyes on Quinn. "What I drank was that bottle, not the mixed drinks. She deliberately moved the wine glass away from me."

"You're saying the victim was protecting you?" Quinn's tone barely shifted. "Ms. Hayes, that sounds more like you're coming up with a reason you didn't die."

She was right. Even to me, it sounded absurd. But that moment was too clear. Vivian hadn't been putting on a show. She had actually pushed that bottle into my hand.

Quietly, I said, "She was acting strange last night."

"Strange enough to invite the person she hated most to her bachelorette party?"

I didn't answer. Because I couldn't make sense of it either. If Vivian thought I might lose control, if she thought I might want revenge, then why bring me into this villa? Why pull me into the most sensitive part of the night, alone with her and her three bridesmaids?

The coroner came down from upstairs and murmured in Quinn's ear. Her expression hardened.

She turned back to me. "No signs of forced entry. All four victims died inside. You had a clear prior grudge, you were present the entire night, and you're the only survivor."

She paused, like she wanted me to hear every word.

"If the lab results tie you in any further, you won't just be the prime suspect. You'll be the only explanation for this case that makes any sense."