Chapter Thirty-Six - Set-up

The room seemed to spin. Ashley grabbed my arm. Myles's hand found mine under the table.

"You have the right to remain silent," the officer continued. "Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided for you."

"Wait, wait, wait." Myles stepped closer to the officers. "You're arresting her?"

"We're detaining her for questioning. There's a difference."

"There's no difference. You just read her Miranda rights."

The officer ignored him. His eyes were fixed on me.

"Miss James. Please come with us."

I looked at Myles. At Ashley. At the students watching, their phones recording, their whispers spreading like fire.

"Let me call someone first," I said.

"You can make a call at the station."

"Alexa, don't go with them," Ashley whispered. "Wait for Detective Cross. She'll….”

"Miss James." The officer's voice was harder now. "Don't make this difficult."

I stood up. My legs were shaking, but I held myself straight.

"It's okay," I said to Ashley. "I'll be okay."

"It's not okay. This isn't okay."

Myles grabbed my arm. "I'm coming with you."

"You can't," the officer said. "She goes alone."

"The hell she does."

"Sir, step back, or I will detain you as well."

Myles didn't move. His jaw was tight, his eyes blazing. I could feel the tension radiating off him, the barely contained fury.

"Let me go with them," I said quietly. "I'll call you as soon as I can."

"Alexa…”

"Please. I need you to stay here. Watch Ashley. Watch Madden. Keep everyone safe."

He stared at me for a long moment. Then he nodded slowly, his hand slipping from my arm.

I turned to the officers.

"I'm ready."

They flanked me as I walked out of the library.

The students parted like the Red Sea. Whispers followed me like smoke. Phones captured my face, my walk, my defeat.

I didn't look back.

---

The police station was cold.

Fluorescent lights buzzed overhead. The floors were linoleum, gray and scuffed. The air smelled like coffee and sweat and the particular desperation of people who had made terrible choices.

The officers led me to an interview room. Small. Windowless. A metal table bolted to the floor. Two chairs. A camera in the corner, its red light blinking.

"Sit," one of them said.

I sat.

They left. The door clicked shut behind them.

I was alone.

---

Twenty minutes passed. Or maybe an hour. It was hard to tell in a room with no windows and no clock.

I counted the tiles on the floor. Thirty-six. I counted them twice.

I thought about Myles. About the way he'd looked at me as I walked out of the library. Like he was watching me walk to my execution.

I thought about Ashley. About her cat socks and her loyalty and the way she'd held my hand when I told her about Alice.

I thought about Caleb. About his nervous smile and his messy hair and the way he'd said we should talk.

The door opened.

Detective Cross walked in.

She wasn't in uniform. She was wearing jeans and a sweater, her hair loose, her face tired. But her eyes were sharp.

"Alexa," she said, sitting down across from me. "What happened?"

"They brought me in for questioning. About Caleb."

"I know. I pulled some strings to get in here." She leaned forward. "Did you have anything to do with his death?"

"No."

"Did you see him before he died?"

"Yes. At the lake. He was already..." I stopped. Swallowed. "He was already gone."

"Why didn't you report it?"

"Because I panicked. Because I didn't want to be involved. Because I'm a coward."

Detective Cross studied my face.

"You're not a coward," she said. "You're a survivor. There's a difference.”

“Why am I here though.”

“Well apparently after he was pronounced dead, they went through security footage and you were in it.”

“Shit! So like what happens now?"

"Now you tell me everything. And then we figure out how to keep you out of jail."

I took a deep breath.

And I told her everything.

---

An hour later, Detective Cross walked me out of the station.

The sun was high, the sky clear, the world unchanged. But I felt different. Heavier. Like someone had filled my bones with lead.

"Don't leave town," she said. "They're not charging you. Not yet. But they might."

"I didn't kill him."

"I know. But knowing and proving are two different things."

She drove me back to campus. The ride was silent, the streets empty, the world asleep.

"Be careful," she said as I got out of the car. "Someone is setting you up. And they're getting closer."

"I know."

I walked toward the dorm.

My phone buzzed.

A text from an unknown number.

Welcome back, Alexa. Enjoy your stay?

I stopped walking.

Another text.

You should have stayed away. Now they're watching you. Now they're asking questions. Now they're starting to wonder.

Who do you think they'll believe? The grieving sister? Or the evidence they've been fed?

My hands shook.

Another text. A video.

Me. Standing at the lake. The night Caleb died. My hands reaching into the water.

The timestamp read 2:47 AM.

The night I found his body.

But in the photograph, I wasn't reaching for him. I was reaching for something else.

It looked like I was pushing him into the river.

“What?” My hands were shaking at this point. I was being set up, then another message came again.

See you soon, Alexa.

I dropped my phone.

It shattered on the pavement.

And I ran.