KITTY ROCKETED TO HER FEET THE INSTANT SHE HEARD THE scream. It wasn’t a cry of triumph but of fear, and as the actors milled around onstage, trying to figure out what was going on, Mr. Cunningham marched into the wings.
He was back onstage in a split second. “We need a doctor backstage immediately. There’s been an accident!”
Accident? No way. Nothing that had happened in the last few weeks had been an accident.
“Where are you going?” Mika said, grabbing Kitty’s hand. “You’re not a doctor.”
Kitty shook her off without a word. She was safe, Olivia was onstage, Bree was in the back of the house manning a spotlight. That left only one person unaccounted for.
Turn yourselves in or else. You have until opening night.
Kitty’s stomach clenched. She’d assumed the “or else” was that their secrets would go public, or their roles in DGM would be exposed. But could the killer have meant something more ominous?
The cast had gathered in the wings as Kitty sprinted up the steps at the far side of the stage.
“Margot?” Logan cried. “Margot, can you hear me?”
Kitty’s stomach dropped as she approached the crowd. Logan was on his knees beside Margot’s unconscious body, grasping her hands in his. A stool and music stand had been knocked over, and a pool of blood had formed beneath her head. From where she stood, Kitty couldn’t tell whether Margot was breathing.
“The paramedics will be here any second,” Mr. Cunningham said, taking Logan by the shoulders. “Let them do their job.”
Logan’s face shot up. Tears streaked his stage makeup. “Who would do this? Who would want to hurt her?”
Kitty wished she knew.
Olivia stood behind Mr. Cunningham, her arms wrapped tightly around her body as if trying to protect herself from what was happening. She looked up and found Kitty in the crowd. The look on Olivia’s face was unmistakably helpless.
Bree was the last to arrive, her face a mix of pain and guilt. Kitty couldn’t even comfort them; she was totally and completely at a loss.
She stood there in shock with the rest of the cast until the paramedics arrived. The good news: no body bag, which meant Margot was still alive, for now. The bad news: they hustled her out on a gurney faster than she’d seen in most medical trauma shows on TV, which meant Margot was in critical condition.
“Will she be okay?” Logan asked the last paramedic as he followed the gurney off the stage.
“I don’t know yet, son. Only time will tell.”
Logan and Mr. Cunningham hurried after the paramedics, followed by some of the cast members. As the crowd thinned, Kitty found herself staring at the stricken faces of Bree and Olivia. They were lost. Scared. They needed a leader.
And that was Kitty’s job.
She nodded toward the wings and dashed to a corner of backstage, obscured by set pieces and curtains.
“This is my fault,” Kitty said as soon as Bree and Olivia joined her. She wasn’t so much looking for someone to contradict her, but saying the words out loud made them real, and steeled her for what she needed to do next.
“Did you attack Margot?” Bree asked.
Kitty rolled her eyes. “Of course not.”
“Then I don’t know how this is your fault.”
“We all know,” Olivia said, between sniffles, “that this is my fault.”
Bree sighed. “How do you figure?”
“Well.” Olivia paused, thinking through her reasoning, then seemed to come to a conclusion that pleased her. “It’s my fault she joined Don’t Get Mad in the first place,” Olivia said, sounding very satisfied with her argument. “If it wasn’t for me, she never would have been involved.”
“If I hadn’t started Don’t Get Mad,” Kitty said, “she never would have gotten involved.”
“Oh, come on, guys.” Bree stepped in front of them. “If her parents hadn’t birthed her, if God hadn’t rested on the seventh day. It’s ridiculous. None of us are to blame for what happened to Margot. We all knew the risks.”
“You shouldn’t have taunted our anonymous friend,” Olivia said. “I told you it was a bad idea.”
Bree set her teeth. “At least I did something. If it had been up to you two, we’d have sat around and let that guy turn us against each other while he continued killing people. I’m sorry, but I wasn’t going to let that happen.”
“That’s hilarious, coming from you,” Olivia said.
Olivia and Bree and their endless bickering. Kitty couldn’t take it anymore.
“Bree was right,” Kitty said. “We should all have been in it together from the beginning. We let that asshole tear us apart. And this is what happened.” She squeezed her eyes shut and pictured Margot speeding away toward an emergency room, her status and chances unknown. “We should have been a team on this one. I’m sorry.”
Bree looked taken aback by the apology. “It’s okay,” she said, all the fight gone out of her.
Kitty’s eyes flew open. “Tell that to Margot.”
The girls stared silently at one another as an ambulance siren faded into the distance.
“Any word from Ed the Head?” Kitty asked.
“Nope,” Bree said. “His cell phone goes straight to voice mail.”
“And you have no idea what it was he found in Arizona?”
Bree shook her head. “I wish.”
“Do you think he’s the killer?” Olivia asked.
“It’s possible,” Kitty said.
“But I’ve known Ed since fourth grade,” Olivia said. “He can’t be Christopher Beeman.”
“But he could have known about Christopher,” Kitty said. “And used that knowledge to throw us off the scent.” She sighed. “I’d say at this point, we can more definitively say who isn’t the killer.”
“Oh,” Olivia said.
Bree nodded. “You were onstage, I was manning the spotlight, Kitty was in the house.”
“And Logan was onstage with me,” Olivia added.
“And John was playing with the band,” Bree said quickly. “Which leaves Theo and Rex unaccounted for.”
“And Amber,” Kitty said. “She stormed off the stage before Margot’s body was found.”
“Or,” Bree added, shifting her feet, “someone totally off our radar.” She shook her head. “Whoever it is, the killer is still out there.”
“And coming for us,” Olivia added.
Kitty turned to them. “Not necessarily.”
Olivia looked confused. “What do you mean? Do you think he’ll just give up?”
“No.” Kitty set her jaw. She was the team leader. It was up to her to make the tough decisions and, if need be, the sacrifices. “I think he’ll give up if one of us turns ourselves in.”
Bree held up her hands in front of her. “Kitty, no way.”
“What are you talking about?” Olivia asked.
“You can’t do this,” Bree continued.
Olivia looked from Bree to Kitty and back. “You want us to turn ourselves in?”
Bree stared at her. “No, Olivia,” she said slowly, as if speaking to a child. “She wants to turn herself in.”
Olivia gasped. “But your college scholarship!”
“It is what it is,” Kitty said. “I started this with Don’t Get Mad. Now, I end it.” She turned to Bree and stuck out her hand. “It’s been a pleasure having you on my team.”
Bree opened her mouth to say something, thought better of it, and took Kitty’s outstretched hand. “Thank you for putting up with me.”
Olivia threw her arms around Kitty’s neck. “Don’t do this. There has to be another way.”
“There isn’t.”
“But—”
Kitty pried herself loose. “I won’t give them your names, so don’t worry. I’ll go to Father Uberti in the morning and confess. Just do me a favor.”
“Anything,” Olivia said impulsively.
“Don’t give up.” Then Kitty turned and marched out of the theater before either of them could convince her otherwise.
She prayed she’d have the strength to go through with it.
