Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 74457 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 372(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74457 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 372(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
But if someone else saw my truck that night? That would be a problem. And I was very sure she was going to take those photos and show them to everyone in that neighborhood.
And she’d check with Cora.
I needed to call her. We discussed this already—she knew what her story was if Detective Bates got in touch before I did—but I was afraid Cora would crack under pressure. She was strong and clever, but she was scared, and fear made people do dumb things.
I finished my coffee then went upstairs to grab my burner.
20
Cora
A detective named Bates stopped by. She thinks I killed Silver.
His words played through my brain, over and over again, as Robyn drove us to campus the next day.
Detective Bates called that night. I confirmed Jarrod’s story and played it as cool as I could, and she seemed to buy it. When we hung up, I ran into the bathroom and puked.
I felt like my skin might melt off my body. I was jittery, shaking in my seat, bouncing from side to side.
“What’s the matter? You look awful.” Robyn frowned at me as she parked.
“Nervous for a test.”
“Seriously? You never get nervous for tests.”
“Guess there’s a first for everything.” I got out of the car.
She followed. “If it’s something at home—”
“It’s not. I’m fine.”
“Okay, sure. And if it’s something with Jarrod—”
“He’s fine too.”
“Right. I’m here, if you want to talk, is what I was trying to say.”
I softened a bit. She didn’t mean anything by her questions and I shouldn’t give her a hard time.
“Thanks, but really, it’s just some stupid school stuff.”
We walked together but split up to go to different classes. Jarrod texted my burner phone a few times, but I just ignored him. I couldn’t talk, not yet anyway.
I had to get my head straight.
Detective Bates was on to us. Those weed-smoking guys told her about the truck and they apparently recognized Jarrod. I didn’t know if she thought I was the second person with him that night, but she’d figure that out eventually. She must’ve suspected it, since I was his alibi, and nobody else could vouch for the two of us.
I knew this was a possibility when I got started. I was ready to get caught—I was still ready to get caught—and I’d do my time in jail. Maybe I’d spend the rest of my life there, or I’d end up with the death penalty, but I had to be okay with it.
I made my choice.
The problem was, Jarrod made me think we’d get away with it. I was beginning to see a future for myself again—in fits and starts, in bits and pieces, but it was there.
Jarrod made me feel like I had a path forward. He was the reason my world began to open up again as I struggled to swim out from under the years and years of hate and anger and selfishness. I was so used to dreaming about killing Dr. Silver that I didn’t know what to do with myself now that we’d pulled it off.
But Jarrod showed me the way. He made me feel something I never imagined. He gave me hope that there was more to life than suffering and pain—there could be pleasure, too.
More pleasure than I ever thought possible.
Except now that might be taken away. Hope regained, only to be dashed on the rocks.
Detective Bates was going to figure it out.
I wanted to scream.
Jarrod: Text me back. We have to talk.
Jarrod: Freak. We need to talk. You can ignore me all you want, but it doesn’t change anything.
Jarrod: I’m not going to let anything bad happen.
I wished that were true. I desperately wanted to believe him.
But I didn’t think it was.
I was losing my mind. I kept picturing my life in prison, locked away from Jarrod for years and years. Maybe I could get a sympathetic jury—play up the victim stuff—but I’d still rot in jail. Murder for a good reason was still murder.
And I was a killer, even if it wasn’t my hand that plunged the knife.
Jarrod: You can’t do this alone, freak.
Jarrod: You need me, just like I need you.
Jarrod: Answer me, baby girl.
I hated that he was right.
I managed to avoid him all day. Back at home, I collapsed in my room and curled up on my bed, squeezing my eyes shut. I wanted to hide and wait for all this to disappear, but I knew that wouldn’t happen, and it would only make things worse.
A knock at my door. “Yeah?”
Sam stepped inside. “Hey, you doing okay?”
I sat up and forced myself to smile. “I’m great. What about you?”
“You look like crap.” He sat down at my desk, straddling the chair backwards.
“You know you’re not supposed to say that to a girl, right?”
“Whatever. You’re not a girl. You’re my sister.”
I sighed and rubbed my face. “I’m fine. Just school stuff.”