Ava ran her hand across her forehead, trying to process what he’d told her. “Didn’t you tell the police this?”
He stared at the table. “Of course I did. But they don’t believe me. They think I made up the other girl to cover myself for the murder.”
“But what about the prints on the kitchen knife? Yours aren’t there, right?”
He shrugged. “Apparently there are no prints on the knife. Whoever did it was wearing gloves.”
“Oh my god,” Ava whispered. She leaned back, feeling sick. Things were even more messed up than before. She had no idea how to feel.
Alex leaned forward and took both of Ava’s hands in his. The guard cleared his throat pointedly, and Alex sat back again. “I’m so sorry, Ava. I should have trusted you. I shouldn’t have kept any of this from you.”
“I shouldn’t have kept any secrets from you, either.” Ava studied his deep brown eyes, smooth skin, and perfect features for a moment. She had missed him so much, it was physically painful. “And I forgive you,” she whispered.
Alex gave her a bittersweet smile. “I forgive you,” he whispered back. “And for now, that’s all that matters.”
They held each other’s gaze for a long moment. There were so many things Ava wished she could undo, but for right now, she was just happy to have Alex back. But she didn’t really have him back: He was still in prison. And until she figured out who had really killed Granger, there he’d stay.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
JULIE SAT ATOP THE LIFEGUARD stand, twirling her whistle. She was at the Beacon Rec Center, where she worked, watching a pool full of kids below. Suddenly, a little girl in a pink tankini looked up at her and pointed. “Cat lady!” she cried.
Julie flinched. How did that little girl know about her?
“Cat lady!” a boy joined in, climbing out of the pool and standing at the bottom of the lifeguard chair. “Dirty, dirty cat lady!”
All at once, the whole pool was in an uproar. Everyone was laughing, from all of the kids to the people swimming laps to the other lifeguards patrolling the space. When Julie looked down at herself, she wasn’t wearing her Juicy tee and Adidas shorts but a nightgown seemingly made of cat hair. And what was she doing here, anyway? Hadn’t she vowed not to leave the house ever again, even begging off sick from work? And when she looked across the pool, a girl stood there, her mouth open in a loud, mean laugh. It was Ashley. She was rounding up the kids, pointing at Julie. “There’s the cat lady!” Ashley taunted. “Go get her!”
“No!” Julie screamed. She looked around for Parker, whom she understood, inherently, must be close by. “Parker, help!”
Just as the kids ran for Julie, she woke up, shooting up straight in her car. She looked around. It was Tuesday, late afternoon.
Her phone, which was somehow clutched in her hand, was ringing. She stared at it, still disoriented. The dream felt way too real. She hated when that happened.
The phone bleated again. It was a local number, one that Julie had seen before but couldn’t place. “Hello?” she mumbled into the phone, her head still fuzzy.
“Ms. Redding?” a stern voice intoned.
She blinked hard. The voice was familiar, but her brain was too muddled to know why. “Yes?”
“This is Detective Peters. I understand you were not in school today.”
“That’s right,” Julie replied cautiously, growing more awake and wary. Since when did homicide detectives care about truancy?
“Ms. Redding, I’m going to need you to come down to the station. Your friends are on their way as well. I can send a patrol car over for you if you need me to. I’m assuming you’re at home?”
“Uh, thanks. I mean, no, that won’t be necessary.” She rubbed her eyes with her free hand. “What’s this about?” she repeated.
“I’ll explain everything when you get here. Which I suggest you do quickly.” He paused. “And Julie . . .” His voice had suddenly shifted from professional and firm to dark and threatening.
“Yes?” she asked nervously.
“Don’t even think about not coming.” He hung up before she could reply.
Thirty-five minutes later, Julie stumbled into the police station in sweatpants, a bulky hoodie, and running shoes. Her hair was twisted into a loose bun piled on top of her head. She had no makeup on, and she couldn’t have cared less. What did it matter anyway? All anyone saw when they looked at her was cat hair, like in that dream.