"Thanks again for stopping by." A new voice rang out in the still night air, and this time I was positive it was Cameron's dad.

"Of course." The voice trailed away as Mr. Thompson and the visitor moved toward the front door. "I hope the information...alternative schools...Cameron...support..." was all we could make out.

"Come on! They're moving to the front of the house." I grabbed Seth and started to take off for the front yard, but suddenly the entire backyard was flooded with blinding light. It must have been a motion sensor.

Two sets of footsteps pounded back toward the kitchen and the screen door screeched open.

s.h.i.t.

Chapter 33.

I don't think I'd actually ever seen Seth run before. If we hadn't been in danger of being busted by Cameron's dad and his sketchy visitor, I'm sure I would have taken more time to appreciate the fact that Seth ran like a prep.u.b.escent girl, but I was too busy sprinting.

"Hey! You! Stop right there!" Cameron's dad had made it out of the house and was chasing after us.

Thankfully, he gave up about halfway through his ma.s.sive front yard, and I didn't think he'd be close enough to see the license-plate number as Seth's minivan tore down Cameron's street. I tried to twist around to get a good look at the other man behind the voice, but he must have ducked back inside.

The car was completely silent except for our ragged breathing. I don't think either of us wanted to jinx our getaway until we knew for sure we were safe. When we made it to my driveway without the sound of sirens wailing behind us, I released the breath I'd been holding.

"Oh, thank G.o.d. I can't believe we made it." I grabbed Seth's arm, and he must have interpreted my fingers digging into his upper arm as "I'm so grateful-ravish me" instead of "I'm terrified and need to squeeze something, and your arm just happens to be in reach," because he placed his fingers on my chin and pulled my face to his.

"It's okay, Kate," he said softly, leaning forward.

"Eww, Seth!" I yelled, shoving at his chest. "Lay off!"

"What?" He held his hands in the air. "I thought maybe...oh forget it." He didn't even pretend to be hurt anymore; it was like he'd expected the reaction before I even had a chance to react. "And what the h.e.l.l is that c.r.a.p about sisters? Cameron doesn't have any sisters."

"What did you say?" I asked.

"Sisterhood. The headmaster said something about the sisterhood."

"The headmaster? What are you talking about?" I b.u.mbled, my mind struggling to connect the pieces.

"I'd recognize his voice anywhere. I work in the office, remember?"

"You're sure?" I asked, trying to understand the significance of Headmaster Sinclair visiting the Thompsons. Maybe it was protocol? But his visit had to be so much more than that. My mind reeled back to Seth's other realization.

"Sisterhood," I repeated. "Why does that sound familiar?" I closed my eyes for a second, and then it hit me.

"Elisa, at the nursing home. She said something about sisters." I opened my eyes and suddenly felt an overwhelming urge to start clapping. "I thought she was being general, but now it makes sense. Abigail Moore's death and Grace's are connected somehow."

"By a group called the Sisterhood?" Seth asked breathlessly. I could almost hear him mentally composing his post for the conspiracy-theory boards he frequented.

"I think so. Ever heard of them?"

"Um, no? Wait..." Seth looked up at the ceiling as though he was scanning the file drawer of his brain that housed long-term memories. "Well, maybe. And I think I know exactly where to look."

Seth started backing the car out of my driveway. "Hey, what are you doing?"

"You're coming to my place." Seth deftly pulled up his own driveway and maneuvered the car into the garage.

"But why?"

"You'll see."

Seth sprinted through the door and yelled, "MomI'mhomeKate'shereandwe'vegottachecksomethingforschoolquick. Okay? Okay." He practically shoved me up the stairs to his room, leaving his mother downstairs asking about eight hundred questions that we could no longer hear.

"Okay, there's this guy who always posts on my blog..."

"Wait. You have a blog? Seriously?"

Seth looked offended. "Do you want me to help or not?"

"Yeah, yeah, I want you to help," I said guiltily.

"Okay, so like I was saying, there's this guy I know who specializes in regional secret societies." Seth typed furiously into his PC as he talked. "He's totally obsessed with a society that supposedly formed in the Midwest sometime after World War II, and guess what they're called?"

"The Sisterhood?"

"Yup."

"Here, take a look."

Sure enough, there was a quick paragraph about the Sisterhood. ConspiracyLuvR (and, yes, that was indeed his actual screen name-you can't make this stuff up) had never been able to find any definitive proof that the group existed. Just anecdotal mentions in old diaries and letters, but based on what he'd pulled together, the group had formed in the Cleveland area during the 1950s.

I looked up from the computer.

"And does..."-I could barely bring myself to say his name out loud-"ConspiracyMother think they're still active today?"

"It's ConspiracyLuvR, and, yeah, he's always trying to dig up proof, but they're too smart and they lie very low. None of that Skull and Bones c.r.a.p for them. He thinks they're very active and expanding."

"Wow," I breathed, trying to make sense of all this. And then it occurred to me. The letter on the crest. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

"Yeah, I'll ask my mom to bring up some snacks."

"No, I mean about the crest. The S. It's not supposed to be a P. It's supposed to stand for the Sisterhood."

As I said the words, I could practically hear the sound of a puzzle piece clicking into place. This was it: the truth that might set Grace free.

Chapter 34.

Back home, I stood under a scalding hot shower, letting the water run over me as the rain had just hours before. No matter how much I complained about Seth, I knew I never could have accomplished anything that night without him.

After I dressed, I sat down at my desk and pulled up my email to thank him. But before I could even begin to type, I noticed the bold words.

I had one new message.

To: [email protected] Sent: Tues 11:21 PM From: Subject: (no subject) You are close.

Please don't stop.

Liam knows, be careful.

I read the words on the screen over and over again. What does Liam know? I hadn't told him anything.

And yet she said I was close. And Grace was right-I couldn't stop now. If I was being honest with myself, I knew deep down that something wasn't right with Liam. Seth would never make anything up just to hurt me. Liam was definitely hiding something, and I was willing to bet it went deeper than his dysfunctional relationship with Beefany.

Did he know about the Sisterhood? Or did he know what had really happened to Grace? Did he really have a history with fires? But why would he have wanted Grace dead? Why would the Sisterhood have wanted her dead? My mind spun with questions.

I felt like my head was going to explode, so I tried to pull the emergency brake on my overactive brain. First things first: the email said Liam knew something, so I needed to focus on that. The mysterious Brown pin, the missing invitation from that night, and the Sisterhood would all have to wait. For now.

As for Liam, it was time to go all Law & Order on his a.s.s and find out the whole truth and nothing but the truth. And as much as I wanted to be surprised, I wasn't. I liked Liam. A lot. And yet I'd always known deep down that he was hiding something.

I wish I could say I'd never seen it coming. But all the signs were there. My heart just chose to ignore them.

Chapter 35.

I cradled my head in my palm and pretended to listen to Beefany drone on about Homecoming weekend. But my thoughts alternated between a mental list of who might be a member of the Sisterhood and just how much Liam knew.

Clearly, the Sisterhood was meeting for some reason at the chapel the night of the Spiritus bonfire, but I still believed Naomi when she said that she and her "friends" had nothing to do with Grace's death. I was missing something, something big. And I couldn't ignore the feeling that I was running out of time.

"This dance is the single most important night this fall, and it's our job to make it more than perfect." Beefany had something red stuck between her front teeth, and I absentmindedly wondered if it was a piece of human flesh. "But before we can start making decorations, I'm going to reveal the theme of this year's Homecoming dance."

The room full of wannabes buzzed with excitement and looked expectantly at Queen Taylor, who sat behind Beefany, as usual.

"Okay, people, quiet down." Beefany rapped her gavel a few times. I noticed that it sort of sparkled. Unbelievable. The gavel was now bedazzled. I wondered if that was Beefany's or Taylor's handiwork. Maybe Beefany had applied the crystals when she had weekend custody. Taylor didn't seem like the bedazzling type.

"The theme is..." She raised her strong arms in the air like a preacher and paused as though waiting for a drum roll. "Mardi Gras!"

The room erupted in squeals. I looked around and watched as girls jumped up and gave each other hugs, the jocks shoved each other, wide-eyed at the possibility of such a scandalous theme, and one random chick in the corner power-punched into the air.

I wouldn't have been surprised if one of the girls had pulled up her shirt in hopes of getting a.s.signed to work on centerpieces with Taylor. Who needed beads when you could vie for the queen's approval?

The loyal subjects began shouting out ideas a.s.sociated with the theme, and Beefany wrote each on the board in her careful print. Taylor nodded her approval as the brainstorming continued. But then she motioned Beefany over and whispered in her ear.

Contrasting eyes settled on me-Beefany's dark brown and Taylor's bright blue. Finally Beefany straightened. "Kathy?" Her eyes narrowed in my direction. "Kathy, how about you? What's your contribution to our little think tank?"

"Well, it's Kate, and I think you have a pretty good list there," I said, annoyed.

"Cape?" she asked, feigning confusion.

"No, K-A-T-E," I practically shouted.

"Okay, Cape, do you have anything to add?"

Only that a Mardi Gras Homecoming theme might be the worst idea in the history of bad ideas, I thought, but I shook my head instead. Although I had to admit I wouldn't miss Homecoming night for the world. This was one train wreck I'd have to witness in person. Only one issue: I needed a date.

I mentally crossed Liam off the list of potential date candidates. Call me crazy, but it seemed in poor taste to go to Homecoming with a guy who was probably involved in your best friend's death.

When he poked his head into the cla.s.sroom a moment later, I gasped. It was like he could read my mind or something. He signaled for me to join him in the hall, and for the first time since I'd started hanging out with him, a wave of nervousness washed over me. And not nervous in that b.u.t.terflies-in-the-stomach-I'm-about-to-kiss-my-crush kind of way; I was veering more into heart-starts-racing-when-you're-alone-in-a-dark-parking-garage-at-night territory.

Although I had spent the bulk of the previous night developing my plan of attack, seeing Liam's face squelched my courage. I wasn't ready. But he didn't look like he was going to leave until he talked to me, so I snapped my fingers. Beefany insisted we snap our fingers to get her attention-something she and Taylor had learned at a Young Leaders of America conference.

"Cape? Do you need something?"

"Just the bathroom."

"Well, don't be long. We have lots to do, and we haven't even started designing the centerpieces."

She glanced at the door, but Liam had already ducked out.

"What's going on?" I asked Liam as soon as I'd shut the door behind me.

"I just thought maybe you'd want an excuse to get out of there."

"That's okay," I said, refusing to meet his eyes. "It's getting kind of...interesting." The lies were second nature now.

"All right." He looked kind of embarra.s.sed that I'd turned him down. "Did you get my texts?" He lightly grazed my arm as he asked, and I flinched.

"I've just been super-busy," I said. "I should get back in there."

I grasped the door handle, but Liam continued talking.

"They're liars. You know that, right?" he asked, lowering his voice. "Don't get sucked in. You're too good for that."