Twisted Secrets: A Dark High School Romance (Twisted Pine Academy Book 3) Page 6

  "People make mistakes when their emotions are high. They panic and do things they wouldn't do if they were thinking rationally."

  "He didn't do it," I say.

  "Have they started the autopsy?" Mr. Daniels asks Ms. Wietz.

  "Yes. Her mother paid to have it done quickly. She doesn't want to wait."

  "They don't know how she died?" I ask Ms. Wietz.

  "They have an idea but they need the autopsy to confirm it."

  "What do they think happened?"

  "Strangulation."

  I stare at her, my mind swirling with thoughts and ideas of who might have done this. Kristen claimed her stepdad strangled her, and she had the marks to prove it. But he did it during sex, not to kill her, or at least that's what she said.

  Principal Edwards wouldn't kill Kristen. He had no reason to, and if he did, he wouldn't drive all the way to Jackson's house to do it.

  Maybe she was doing that stuff with someone else. What if it was an accident? What if it started as a sex thing and the guy ended up actually strangling her? But who else would be into that? Brock is, and I'm sure Braden is too, but Brock wouldn't be with Kristen. He barely knew her. Braden did, and he wanted her back, except she wasn't with him that night. Maybe he was so angry at her for leaving the other night he killed her and—

  "Rumor, pay attention," Ms. Wietz scolds. "We don't have much time left."

  "What did you ask me?"

  "I didn't ask you anything. I told you to read over your script." She points to the laptop that's now in front of me.

  "You seriously expect me to memorize this?" I ask, looking at all the words on the screen. I read the first answer. "I don't talk like this. They'll know I'm lying."

  "They don't know you. For all they know, you DO talk like that. Read it over and let us know if you have questions."

  It's actually written like a script with the police listed and then me. The answers are all really short with no explanation.

  "They're going to ask me more," I say. "There's not enough detail."

  "They can't force you to say anything. If they ask you something that's not in the script you tell them you don't know or you don't remember."

  "So I lie."

  "Everyone lies, including the police. They'll say and do whatever they have to in order to close this case, lock away the killer, and put the public's mind at ease."

  "Then why are they reopening Andrea's case? Why don't they just let everyone think it was an accident?"

  "The girl's parents are demanding the police look into it again. The new evidence was sent directly to Andrea's parents because whoever sent it wanted to make sure the police would reopen the case. Otherwise, as you said, they'd likely say it wasn't worth upsetting the community again and would toss the evidence in a file, never to be seen again."

  Brock comes out of the house, holding a stack of papers. "I believe these are yours," he says, setting them in front of me.

  "What's this?" I ask.

  "A printout of what's on the screen," Ms. Wietz says. "We sent it to Brock to print. Spend the next hour or so memorizing it."

  "Hour? That's all the time I have?"

  "You might have more," Ms. Wietz says, getting up from her chair. "But to be safe, do as much as you can in an hour. The police aren't going to wait much longer. And the longer you wait, the guiltier you look. If you have nothing to hide, you won't fight them when they ask to speak with you. That's another thing. Be pleasant."

  "Pleasant? My boyfriend was arrested and a girl from my school was murdered. Nobody would act pleasant after that."

  "By pleasant, I mean don't raise your voice or become confrontational. Simply answer their questions and get out of there."

  "Aren't you going to be with me?" I ask, getting up.

  "Yes, but I won't be talking. You need to be the one giving answers."

  "We should go," Mr. Daniels says to her.

  "Braden is waiting in his room," Brock says.

  Ms. Wietz picks up her leather bag and motions me inside. "Start studying. We'll leave after I talk to Braden."

  "I won't be ready." I hold up the stack of paper. "This is way too much to memorize."

  "You'll be fine," Brock says, putting his arm around me. "I memorize scripts twice that size in half the time."

  "Because you're an actor. I'm not."

  "But I'm your uncle, and your father is an actor. Acting is in your blood." He lets me go. "Go inside and practice. If you need me to read lines with you, let me know."

  Read lines. He acts like I'm rehearsing for a play. This all seems so wrong. I don't know anything about how crime investigation works so maybe this is normal but it's not normal for me. Even if I memorize this, I still feel like I'm going to screw up and say something I shouldn't. But if I do, I'm sure Ms. Wietz will step in and stop me before I say too much.

  An hour later, Brock is at my door.

  “We need to go,” he says. "They want to see us at three."

  "Are you serious? I'm not ready! What am I supposed to wear?"

  Brock goes to my closet and pulls out a pair of black pants his stylist got me that I've never worn, a white button-up shirt, and a pink cardigan. He hands it to me. "Put this on and wear the low black heels."

  "I would never wear this," I tell him.

  "You're wearing it now. Put it on and meet us in the living room. And fix your hair. Wear it down and straight. You have ten minutes."

  I hate following his orders. I'm only going along them because he's been through this before with Braden so might actually know what he's doing.

  When I get to the living room, Ms. Wietz is waiting with Brock. We go outside to a black SUV that I'm assuming belongs to Ms. Wietz.

  "Let's practice," Brock says to me on our way there. "Where were you last night around eleven o'clock?"

  I sigh. "I was at my house. In my room." I roll my eyes. "This is stupid. If they ask Jackson, he'll tell them he didn't drop me off until after eleven. They'll know one of us is lying."

  "If they're specific about the time, you tell them you can't remember."

  "And if they ask you something that wasn't in the script," Ms. Wietz says, "tell them you're choosing not to answer. They can't force you to give them information."

  Brock continues to ask me questions, getting angry every time I mess up. There's no way I'm going to remember those scripted answers. I'm just going to go there and tell the truth.

  We arrive at the police station just before three. A cop leads us to a room where a woman is waiting. I'd guess she's in her thirties, average height, athletic body, and short dark hair.

  "Hello, Rumor," the woman says. "I'm Jillian. I'll be the one talking with you today."

  She doesn't introduce herself to the lawyer or Brock, probably because she's already met them during Braden's questioning.

  "Have a seat," she says. "Rumor, can I get you anything? Water? Soda?"

  "No, I'm good."

  The three of us sit across from her at a long table, with me in the middle. I feel like I'm on trial, my nerves making my chest feel tight. I take a breath.

  "Let's start by talking about last night," Jillian says. "Please tell me where you were between eleven and midnight."

  "I was home," I say, following the script. "In my room."

  "Did you go out last night?"

  "Yes. To a football game. And then I went out to eat."

  "With who?"

  "I went to the game with Trystan, my cousin."

  "And after the game?"

  I pause. "I was with Jackson. We went to get something to eat and then he dropped me off."

  "Jackson Novak," she says. "Is that correct?"

  "Yes," I say, sitting up straighter, forcing myself to calm down. The lawyer said to be confident and not to show fear because it'll come off as guilt.

  "Tell me about your relationship with Mr. Novak."

  "Jackson and I are dating."

  "Were you aware he was seeing someone else?"

&
nbsp; Why is she asking that? Did Jackson tell them he was still dating Kristen?

  Was he?

  Chapter Seven

  "She doesn't have to answer that," Ms. Wietz says to Jillian. "Continue."

  "So Mr. Novak took you to get something to eat, then dropped you off before eleven?" Jillian asks.

  "I don't remember the exact time," I say.

  "And did you hear from Jackson again after he dropped you off?"

  "Yes. He called to tell me goodnight. But I don't know what time that was."

  "You could check your phone."

  "Her phone records are private," Ms. Wietz says.

  "The timing of the call is important for the case," Jillian says.

  "Then a judge can request those records if necessary," Ms. Wietz says. "For now, they'll remain private."

  "What time did it happen?" I ask.

  "Rumor, you don't—"

  "We can't give out those details yet," Jillian says, interrupting Ms. Wietz. "Tell me what else Mr. Novak said when he phoned you last night."

  I glance at Ms. Wietz. "I'd like that to remain private."

  Jillian keeps her eyes on me. "Ms. Halliway, please keep in mind that the information you provide could be used to help, not harm, Mr. Novak."

  "Ms. Halliway has already answered your question," Ms. Wietz says. "Do you have anything else to ask her?"

  "Tell me your feelings about Kristen Reynolds," Jillian says.

  That question wasn't in the script but I answer it anyway. "She went to my school and sat at my table at lunch."

  "And how did you feel about her?"

  "She doesn't need to answer that," Ms. Wietz says, getting up. "I think we've talked enough for today."

  Brock and I stand up and follow Ms. Wietz to the door.

  "If you have further questions," she says to Jillian, "direct them to me."

  Jillian gives her an annoyed look but Ms. Wietz is already out the door and walking to the front. Brock and I hurry to catch up to her. None of us speak until we're in the car.

  "How do you think it went?" Brock asks Ms. Wietz.

  "She thinks Rumor was involved."

  "She does?" I say, leaning forward toward Ms. Wietz. "How could you tell? She barely said anything to me."

  "Her expression said it. She thinks you and Jackson conspired to kill Ms. Reynolds."

  "I disagree," Brock says. "I didn't think her expression said anything at all. She was stone faced, just like the detectives who've questioned Braden."

  "I know Jillian," Ms. Wietz says. "She has a chip on her shoulder regarding the wealthy. She especially hates wealthy children. She believes they're spoiled and allowed to get away with things. It's why I requested someone else question Braden during the first investigation."

  "I do remember her being rather harsh with him," Brock says.

  "How do you know so much about her?" I ask Ms. Wietz.

  "We went to high school together. Her parents had very little money. Even back then, she hated people with money."

  "What does that mean for Jackson? Is she going to try to lock him away because he's rich?"

  "It's possible, especially if the only evidence they have is circumstantial."

  "I should've told her about his cameras being out. And how he heard a noise out back."

  "He needs to be the one to tell her that. I'm sure he already did."

  "When do you think he'll get out of jail?"

  "I'm guessing later this week."

  "It could be sooner," Brock says. "Roman is in town now."

  Ms. Wietz smiles at Brock. "And you're not following him around?"

  Brock laughs, but it's a short, annoyed laugh because she basically just insulted him.

  "I'm not that desperate for a role," he says.

  We ride in silence the rest of the way as I think about Jackson, and Brock stews over Ms. Wietz making fun of him. She doesn't seem to care. She seems like someone who says what she wants and doesn't worry if it offends people.

  When we're back home I go in my room and check my phone, hoping to see a message from Jackson. I miss him so much. It hasn't even been a day and I'm going crazy not hearing from him.

  At six, Brock knocks on my door to ask if I want to go to dinner. I tell him no. I'm not hungry. I haven't had an appetite since they took Jackson away.

  I lay on my bed and fall asleep, waking up when my phone starts going off.

  "Hello?" I say, feeling groggy.

  "It's good to hear your voice again."

  "Jackson?" I say, jumping up from my bed.

  "Yeah, it's me."

  "Where are you?" I ask, my heart beating out of my chest.

  "Home. Can you come over?"

  "Yes!" I run to get my keys from the dresser. Glancing at myself in the mirror I see my hair's a mess but I don't have time to fix it. I have to see him! "I'm leaving right now!"

  "Wait. I'm not at my house. It's a crime scene. I'm not allowed to go in there."

  "So where are you?"

  "Two houses down. The white house with the black door?"

  "The one nobody lives at?"

  "Yeah. My dad's friends with the owner. The guy offered to let us stay here until I can move back in my house. My dad's here too. Hope that's okay."

  "I don't care. I just want to see you!"

  "I want to see you too. Being in that jail cell was...I don't want to talk about it."

  "I'm on my way. See you in a few minutes."

  I run out of my room through the house.

  "Where the hell are YOU going?" Braden asks.

  Turning back, I see him coming towards me, shirtless, a glass of what looks like Brock's bourbon in his hand.

  "I thought you didn't drink," I say.

  "I don't. Except when I'm being accused of killing some bitch."

  I open the door.

  "Hey!" he grabs the door from me and slams it shut. "You can't leave."

  "I can, and I will. Now get out of my way."

  He blocks the door. "You're accused of murder. You go outside that door, Kristen's mom might just kill you herself, if she hasn't already hired someone to do it."

  "Her mom didn't accuse me of murder. Now get out of my way."

  "Another Twisted Pine girl murdered." He laughs as he opens the door. "On her uncle's front lawn."

  "Shut up," I say, racing past him.

  When I get outside, I run down the street and see lights on at the house that never has lights on. I hurry up to the door and ring the bell.

  The door swings open.

  "Rumor." Jackson pulls me inside and hugs me like he's never going to let go. "God, I've missed you."

  "I didn't think they'd let you out," I say, hugging him back. "I was so scared."

  "I never should've been there. I swear someone did this. They set me up."

  I pull away. "What do you mean?"

  "Someone told them I did this. They're not even looking for anyone else. It's like they've already made up their minds."

  "Is that what they told you?"

  "I could tell by how they treated me. The questions they asked. They think I did this."

  "But they let you go."

  "Only because my dad knows the right people. He got me before a judge. It was supposed to take a week but it happened this afternoon. The judge set bail and my dad got me out."

  "Now what happens?"

  "I show up at court for the hearing. Unless I can prove my innocence before then.”

  "Can you?"

  "I don't know. I can't prove who did it and the cops seem to only want to charge me and nobody else so it's not looking good."

  "No." I shake my head. "We're not letting that happen. I'm not letting them punish you for something you didn't do." I take his hand and walk farther into the house.

  It's a stark modern house with very little furniture. There's a black leather couch in the living room with a glass coffee table in front of it, and that's it. The rest of the living room is empty.

  "Let's
think about this," I say, as we sit on the couch. "Who might have done this?"

  "I have an idea but he was home all night."

  "Principal Edwards?"

  "You thought so too?"

  I shrug. "The guy seems to have a violent side. And if he really did strangle her, then maybe he's the one who killed her."

  "But he wasn't here. He was at home."

  "Alone. Kristen's mom was in LA. He doesn't have proof he was home."

  "They have security cameras around the house. The cameras would show if he left."

  "Unless he turned them off. Or tampered with them."

  "Who else do you think could've done this?"

  I look at him. "Braden."

  Jackson sighs. "I didn't want to say it but I was thinking that too. He lives just down the street. It'd be easy for him to toss her in the ocean and run back home. And you said Kristen had been at your house with him, right?"

  "Yeah, saying she wanted him back. But then she left. What if Braden was so angry at her for taking off like that that he killed her? Braden hates being rejected. And she already rejected him once."

  "Doing it a second time could send him over the edge."

  "Exactly. Hey, did you tell the police that Braden tried to rape a girl?"

  "Not recently. It was during the Andrea case, when they were questioning me. Why? Was someone asking you about that?"

  "Trystan was telling me why Braden hates you so much. He said you made up stories about Braden and told the police. Stories about Braden beating up girls and trying to rape them."

  "I didn't make it up. And I told the police I never actually saw Braden do it. I told them it was all stuff girls told me, and I'd seen the evidence showing it might be true. Andrea and Kristen both had bruises on them after dating Braden."

  "What about Alyssa?"

  "He tried to rape her at a party and she never went out with him again."

  "And you know that story is true?"

  "Alyssa wouldn't lie about that. And she told the school. She'd never involve the school unless it actually happened."

  "But the police didn't care? They just let Braden get away with it?"

  "None of what I said was enough to lock Braden up. It didn't prove he killed Andrea."

  It makes me so angry that Braden gets away with this stuff. And then Jackson does nothing and gets charged with murder.

  Jackson takes my hand. "I feel so much better now that I can see you again. I felt like shit since the moment they took me away. Then you show up and I feel good again. Better than good." He leans down and kisses me. "I love you, Rumor Bennet."