The Cursed Series, Parts 3 & 4 (Cursed #3-4) - Rebecca Donovan Page 0,40

I admire. “Seriously, I can’t believe you did this.”

“It’s the only way I could make sense of it,” he explains and begins to point out where the holes are in each person’s bio.

“What do we do now?” I ask, tracing the arrows between each of the players involved.

“We should start with the night you were arrested,” he suggests, picking up a pencil to begin recording the details.

I shift so I’m angled toward him. “You do think there’s a connection between that night and what’s been happening here?”

“You were right. There are too many coincidences. And the one that keeps bothering me is that there were only five people on campus when you arrived. And four of you have Niall as a lawyer.”

“What about Sophia? You can’t possibly think she’s involved,” I scoff like it’s insane to even consider her.

“I … don’t know. But I’m not erasing her just yet. She has access to the security cameras, phones, your room and even your school records if she wanted.”

I pause. “I know. I’ve been thinking about that too, but I can’t conceive of a single motive. I didn’t know her before coming here. It doesn’t make sense for her to hate me.”

“It doesn’t make sense for anyone to hate you,” Grant counters, giving me a peck on my temple. His faith in me is unwavering—although blind. It’s adorable. “Then … let’s start with Brendan.”

According to Grant’s chart, almost every line connects to either Brendan or Niall. The two people I’ve been told I can trust are the people with the most secrets.

After dissecting everything we do know, Grant and I are somehow able to whittle down the thousand things we don’t know to come up with five questions. Now, I wait for Brendan to make one of his invasive, creepy appearances, so I can ask them.

I go through the entire next day without seeing Brendan once. I’m not sure if I’m annoyed or relieved by the time I go to bed. Grant’s concerned, afraid Brendan’s up to something.

“But that’s just Brendan,” I try to reassure him while stealing a few minutes with him before his tutoring session. “He’s always up to something. He’ll do one of his stalker moves eventually.”

That doesn’t ease Grant’s worry.

I’m woken by popcorn bouncing off my head in the middle of the night.

“What the hell?” I holler, sitting up abruptly, my heart pounding. I find Brendan leisurely sprawled on my couch. “How did you get in here?”

“Keep your voice down,” Brendan scolds me. “I was going to knock, but your neighbor’s door was open, so I snuck in through the bathroom.”

“What are you talking about?” I pull the covers up over my chest, feeling way too vulnerable, being woken to Brendan making himself at home in my room at … I glance at the clock … three o’clock in the morning.

“I think I’ve figured out how the psycho’s been getting in. They taped the room next door’s latch open. And you haven’t been locking the bathroom door that connects the rooms, so … that’s how they get in.”

“You just happened to try the neighbor’s door?” I accuse, not buying it.

“It wasn’t closed all the way. I guess they weren’t careful when they snuck in today. Did you get another message?”

They were in here today? I sit up straighter, scanning the room for anything out of place. “No.”

“Not that you’ve found anyway,” he says with a conspiratorial slant of a brow.

“Why are you here? It’s the middle of the fricken night. You couldn’t have found me during the day?” I question, beyond irritated … and tired.

“I want to be sure we’re not overheard. Had to take some precautionary measures.”

I click the bedside lamp on. “What the hell does that mean?”

“Don’t worry about it.” He pats the cushion next to him on the couch. “Time to talk.”

I slip out of bed, grabbing the hoodie off the back of my desk chair, and yawn. “Whatever. Let’s get this over with.”

It’s obvious he strategically chose now, convinced I’d be too tired to ask the right questions. Good thing Grant is the most prepared person in existence.

“You first,” he proposes. I sit on the end of the couch to avoid touching him. “Ask away.”

I chase the weariness from my head with a deep inhale and draw my first question to the surface of my sleepy brain. “How do you know Kaden Harrison?”

I’ve caught him off guard. I can see it in his forced closed-mouth smile. “I’ve always known him. He and my mother