tight, and his voice sounds strangled. “I’ve never done anything like that before.”
“Where was Carter?”
He doesn’t look up. “I don’t know. At the dorm? He wasn’t around the next morning.”
“What happened next?”
He squints like the sun is in his eyes and shakes his head, frowning. “I don’t know. There were a few women still around who'd had hookups the night before. One heard the screams, came running in, and called campus police.”
“And Carter’s girlfriend? What’d she do?”
“Puked and then avoided me. The look on her face, the way she wouldn’t go near me after that killed me.”
I’m silent for a moment. Something about it sounds off. I can’t put my finger on what it is, but I realize Josh would rather be flambéed than recount this event for another second.
He stares at the wall and mutters, “How could I forget the entire thing? I wanted her for so long. She wanted me. I’d been the one saying no, refusing her—How could I do something like that?”
The color on his face drains as he stands there, rigid. He’s frozen in the past, trapped in a nightmare that never ends. I bet he sees her face every time he flirts, every time he closes his eyes, and the remorse flowing off of him is so thick I can feel it. It’s not some intangible sentiment. Josh feels it from head to toe, every single day.
My mouth is moving, letting the thought tumble out of my mind before I can stop it. “What if you didn’t rape her?”
“Kerry, I did it. I saw the look on her face and the bruises on her body where I held her down. I blocked it out. They said I was so pissed at Carter that I took it out on her.” He’s quiet for a moment and then adds, “I did it, so I confessed. I couldn’t leave her living her life thinking she was to blame. She wasn’t. It was me.” He walks over to the bar and pulls the vodka from the shelf, opening the cap. “I wish they had a different bottle. This brand reminds me of that night.”
I study the blue and gray letters on the label. “That’s the same brand they had at the study group, the kind that made me and Beth shitfaced in a blink. Come to think of it, that’s what goes in Emily’s tar cocktail, too.”
Josh turns slowly and looks at me, and then back at the open bottle in his hand. His lashes lower as he stares at it without saying a word.
Thinking back, I mentally picture the liquor at the house. “The bottle we opened at the house was sealed.”
“So were the bottles at the party.”
We both hesitate, but I know we’re thinking the same thing. Getting totally shitfaced, doing something completely out of character, the mental fog, the memory lapse—it all points to one thing.
“You were drugged like Beth and me.”
Josh shakes his head. “That’s not possible. The bottle was sealed.”
“Someone must have opened it and resealed it.” I pause for a second and think that through. Wouldn’t we have noticed if it had been tampered with? Honestly, I didn’t look that closely. The bottle was full and appeared to be new. Frowning, I shake my head and feel my arms fold across my chest. “How’s that possible? Wouldn’t we have noticed if the collar was broken or missing?”
“It wasn’t missing. The plastic was still in place around our bottle that night. I had a few drinks, and so did she. She drank more than me.” He’s quiet for a moment and then glances over at me. “The night of the study group, Jace and Justin wanted to kill whoever brought that bottle, but it turned out to be that girl Sherry. I think she talked to you guys. She’s sweet and ate all of Beth’s cookies. She wouldn’t do something like that.”
“Was she at the party the night things went to hell?”
He thinks about it, scanning his memory for her and then shakes his head. “No, she didn’t come out that night. It was just her brother there, hanging around Carter.”
“Who’s her brother?”
“That blue haired dude, Scott. He never says much, but—”
“Holy shit.” My heart flops in my chest, and I look up at Josh. For a moment, I can’t breathe. It makes sense now. Why didn’t I see it before? Scott is always hanging around Carter, but the guy is so quiet no one notices him. “Josh, is there any chance you