Whitethorn Academy

Chapter Three

Tears leaked down my cheeks. "That doesn't mean I killed them." But what if I did?

"We also saw the bruises, Selene. Which one put up a fight? Samantha?"

Bruises? I'd told the officers that Vincent had given them to me. But of course they didn't believe me. It wouldn't be the first time I'd told someone about the abuse only for Vincent to get away with it.

"What? No! I didn't do this. I was with Hanna all night." I had to have been with Hanna, right? Where else would I have been?

"We have already spoken to Ms. Ridge," Detective Brennan said. "She says that you disappeared and she never could find you again. She told us you'd been angry with Samantha and with Oliver."

Angry with them? That made little sense. I hadn't wanted Oliver there, sure, but that didn't mean I would kill him. And the same was true with Samantha. My heart had broken, but I would never kill her. Right?

I shook my head. "I didn't do this."

The detective gave me a look that said she didn't believe me. "I have a witness that says you disappeared. That same witness says you were angry with both victims. You had means and motive. We found you, covered in blood and bruises."

"The bruises aren't from last night."

Detective Brennan raised an eyebrow. "Then where did you get the bruises, Selene?"

"I told your officer already. My step-father was upset with me for missing curfew. He told me he'd beat some sense into me. And he did."

Detective Brennan stared me down, her gaze seeming to stare deep into my soul. "Is this the first time he's done this?"

"No."

"Then why haven't you reported it before?"

Irritation coursed through me. "I have. I told the school counselor and she called DFS. They didn't do anything about it."

Silence stretched for a minute, before Detective Brennan spoke again.

"Excuse me if I don't take the word of someone who claims to not remember the entire night." I recoiled as if she'd slapped me. Just because she thought I was capable of murder meant I was lying about being abused? What sort of justice system was this?

And even though I couldn't remember everything that happened last night didn't make me guilty.

"I didn't do this."

Detective Brennan leaned forward in her seat, her hands flat against the table. "Hanna told us you were angry when you saw Samantha with Mason."

Had I been angry? Yes. But I was more disappointed than anything else. I'd had a stupid crush on Mason for two years. And it hurt to have my heart shattered into a million pieces.

But I wasn't capable of murder.

"Surely, with Samantha out of your way, you could have Mason all to yourself. Isn't that right, Selene?"

My mouth fell open. What kind of insane theory was that. "No," I replied, gritting my teeth in annoyance.

"Then tell me what happened. Why were you covered in blood?" Detective Brennan's voice was icy. She thought I was a killer. And I had no idea how to change her mind.

"I don't remember everything. Someone must have drugged me."

She nodded, but I could tell she didn't care. "We're also testing your blood for signs of drugs and for blood-alcohol levels. We'll have those results soon."

"I didn't do this." Someone had to be framing me for this. But who? And why?

Detective Brennan sat back down in the chair opposite me. "Let's say I believe you. Then who did it? You were the only person anywhere near the clearing when we arrived. Deputies are still searching the clearing and the surrounding areas for Samantha's murder weapon. We will find it."

"I don't know who could have done this. But it wasn't me." It couldn't have been me, right?

Detective Brennan didn't look convinced of my statement. She just looked frustrated with me.

"Like I said, we're testing the blood that was on your clothes against the victims'. We'll know soon enough. So, if you have anything you'd like to confess, I suggest doing so before we have the evidence to convict you of murder."

Hopelessness washed through me and the tears came faster. Everything from the bonfire last night was a black blur. What if I had killed someone? What if I was the reason that Samantha and Oliver would never go home again? I had never thought of myself as capable of murder. But what if I was?

"Confess," Detective Brennan said. "Clear your conscience and I'll get you the best deal I can. You're an adult, but we will do our best to make you as comfortable in prison as possible."

I didn't respond, as there was a light knock on the door. Detective Brennan gave me one last look before she stood and headed out of the room, leaving me alone.

As soon as I was alone, I cried harder. I wiped the snot from my nose on the long sleeve of the borrowed shirt I was wearing. It might as well have been a prison jumpsuit. Without my memories of last night, I was a goner. I had no alibi.

I was still sniffling when Detective Brennan came back. Her face showed her frustration, but for once, I had a feeling it wasn't directed at me.

"You are free to go," she told me.

"You're letting me go?" I asked her, surprised. "I didn't think you believed me."

"The blood type came back, and it's not a match for either victim, but it is a match for yours."

My own blood? That was strange. "So, I'm not a suspect anymore?"

Detective Brennan shook her head. "We have nothing to keep you here. Your bloodwork was clean of drugs and your blood-alcohol level was within a normal range. I have no choice but to let you go."

My muscles groaned as I stood from the metal chair. I'd been sitting for so long that my legs had gone numb. I was wobbly on my feet, but stayed upright.

"I am sorry about the harsh way I questioned you," the detective told me. "But there are two dead teenagers and I have no other leads."

Fear crashed through me. What if whoever had killed Samantha and Oliver had done something to me? Something that the tests hadn't shown. Something that would make me look guilty. The thought of being that close to someone who could commit such a violent act made me shiver with terror.

Detective Brennan held the door open for me as we headed into a hallway that was a lot warmer than the interrogation room. She led me into a room, where they gave me back my phone.

As I turned to leave the station, Detective Brennan handed me a card. "If you remember anything about last night, call me."

"I will," I told her as I took the card from her. They printed her info in neat little lines, with the logo of the police station embossed onto the paper.

"Your mother is waiting for you outside."