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When we arrived at the station, I expected to be taken to an interrogation room, one like I’d seen in cop procedural shows, but the room was more like someone’s living room, with a couple of comfy couches and a coffee table and a big window that let in a lot of natural light. It wasn’t modern, or particularly nice, but it looked like someone had made an effort.

Lena went straight to a couch and sat down. ‘You don’t have to be nervous,’ she said.

‘You don’t know me very well. I’m nervous about everything.’

That made her laugh. She pulled out a bottle of pale-blue nail polish from her enormous purse and started paintingher nails. If anyone else had done that, it would have annoyed me, given the circumstances, but I was starting to realize Lena was incredibly astute underneath her hippy, floral-skirt, kindergarten-teacher exterior.

The door to the room opened, and my heart started to thunder in my chest.

The policewoman introduced herself as Officer Gale. She had silver-gray hair, cut super short, and piercing blue eyes.

Like Detective Beaufort, she wasn’t wearing a uniform. But it felt like a carefully staged scene to not freak me out. Which obviously freaked me the fuck out. I didn’t know what angle they were trying to take. Was I still a suspect, or did they just want information from me? Or both?

‘Do you know why you’re here today, Jessie?’

‘No,’ I said. I was pretty sure there was something in the constitution about not having to incriminate yourself, but I hadn’t paid close enough attention in Social Studies class to know the exact details. Besides, it wasn’t a lie. There were plenty of things that had happened in the past couple of weeks that they could be charging me for, and I wasn’t going to confess to anything until I had an idea of what they knew and what they didn’t.

‘Let’s start at the beginning. Why don’t you tell me why you ran away?’ Officer Gale asked.

I glanced at Lena, wondering exactly what I should say. I needed to dance on a line between telling the truth and protecting Brooke from getting in any more trouble than we were potentially in. I’d already told the police in Atlanta about the Creep, but they had no idea what we’d donesince leaving Seattle: stealing hundreds of dollars at the convention, Brooke being kidnapped, stabbing Chris through the hand. Plus, Brooke’s illegal gun that she’d been threatening to shoot me with. I couldn’t tell them about any of that.

‘Will you tell me the truth if I ask you something?’ I replied instead of answering her question.

‘Probably,’ she said easily.

‘Did you think I killed Mitchell?’ I said, almost tripping over my words as they rushed out of me. ‘Because the cop in Atlanta, she said you didn’t – you don’t – think I killed him.’

‘I don’t think you killed Mitchell Covier,’ she replied. Her eyes didn’t leave mine. She wasn’t lying.

‘What about before, though?’ I pressed, aware that I was in dangerous territory now. The police wanted to interrogate me, not the other way around.

‘You were a person of interest, Jessie, but so were a lot of people,’ Officer Gale said, leaning forward a little. ‘Your mom was a person of interest. So were her ex-boyfriends. Mitchell’s colleagues were, too. Do you understand?’

I nodded. Then forced myself to unclench my jaw.

‘Let’s talk about something else,’ she said. ‘When did you and Brooke first plan to run away together?’

I frowned at her. ‘We didn’t plan it,’ I said.

‘Oh?’

‘I left the house with my stuff, and then when I was on my way to the bus station, she pulled over and asked me if I wanted a ride.’

Get to the bus station. Get on a bus. Go.

That felt like years ago now, not just a couple of weeks. It had been a good plan. I was so pleased I hadn’t followed it.

‘So it was a total coincidence that Brooke was also leaving the city at the same time?’ Officer Gale prompted.

‘Yes.’

She looked down at her paperwork, and I knew she didn’t believe me.

‘Jessie, could Brooke have killed Mitchell Covier?’

‘What?’ I said, startled, and almost tempted to laugh. ‘No.’

‘You know that for sure?’