“Well, I’m more than up to the task. Does the congresswoman have a particular piece in mind? I brought a list of songs that are great for solo cello—”
“Oh, we can go over song selection in a minute,” I say breezily. “I wanted to actually talk to you about something private first.” I give her my best secretive look, and she leans in.
“Yeah? What about?”
“Nicole.”
I watch as Brianne stiffens. Her smile sticks to her face, like a mask.
“What about her?”
“I wanted to thank you,” I say. “For getting her out of my life.”
Brianne tilts her head up at me, frowning.
“Um, what did I do?”
Here it comes. I take another deep breath before delivering the blow.
“You framed Nicole for Chace’s murder, didn’t you? It was brilliant.”
Brianne leaps up from the bed, stumbling over her cello case in her haste.
“Are you crazy? What are you talking about?”
I open my desk drawer and retrieve the disposable phone. Brianne’s face turns a ghastly shade of pale.
“It’s okay,” I say soothingly. “It’s just us here. And because of you, the girl who stabbed me in the back is behind bars.”
“Who—” Brianne gulps, beads of sweat dotting her pale, pointy face. “Who else have you told about this?”
“Which part? How you killed Chace to get revenge for the guy you’re obsessed with? Or how you wore Nicole’s sweater, wrote an incriminating email from her account, and planted the murder weapon in her room?”
“Shut up, shut up!” Brianne’s eyes flash wildly. I can see the killer in them now. But I’m not afraid.
“Why did you do it, Brianne? There’s no use denying what I know. Plus, I’m on your side,” I tell her. “If you knew enough to frame Nicole, you obviously know what she did to me, and that Chace and I weren’t really together in the end. You can have my silence—if you just tell me why.”
Brianne’s eyes dart between me and the door, and I hold my breath, waiting for her to crack. When she finally speaks, her voice is markedly different from the girl I go to school with and thought I knew. Her tone is flat and harsh, her eyes deadened, like whatever bit of soul she had left just slipped away.
“He ruined it. Chace Porter ruined everything.”
“What did he do?” I urge her on.
She sinks to the floor, the fight draining from her as she buries her head against her knees.
“You don’t know what JJ—Justin—meant to me. He was my everything. We were supposed to move in together after graduation, we had all these plans. And then he just up and disappeared a year ago. He broke up with me with no explanation. I went crazy wondering. I never got over it.” Brianne meets my eyes. “I finally heard from him two weeks ago. He must have felt guilty for ignoring all my texts and emails, because he—he came to visit me and eventually told me everything, how Chace’s parents bribed the Jensens into making Justin take the blame for a car accident Chace caused. He didn’t just disappear on me. He was sent to juvie.” Brianne wipes her eyes roughly. “I thought maybe we could start things up again and that’s why he was back, but no. Justin was leaving me again. His parents found a way for him to have a fresh start and a clean reputation—in Canada. I offered to go with him, but he said no, that he was only here for a proper goodbye, to give me closure.” She spits the word.
“So then what?” I prod. “You decided to take your anger out on Chace?”
Brianne shakes her head wildly.
“I didn’t plan anything. It—it was an accident. I went to the party to confront Chace, and then I saw the knife in Tyler’s kitchen and figured I’d just—I don’t know, scare Chace a little, get him to call the police and clear Justin’s name so he could come home and be with me again. But then when I told him what I knew and he admitted it all, something in me just…” Brianne swallows hard. “Snapped. I got so angry seeing him standing there, the so-called star of the school who made the past year hell for Justin and me. I’d never experienced anger like that in my life.” Brianne’s voice lowers to a chilling whisper. “I didn’t even see the knife go in. It just…happened.”
I close my eyes, digging my fingernails into my palm as I try to fight the sickening images playing in my mind.
“And how—how did you know to frame Nicole for it?” I ask, forcing myself to continue drawing the story out of her. “I saw you getting fingerprinted. How did you pull this off??”
Brianne narrows her eyes.