Page 52

52

Marina

They didn’t sleep that night. Between checking the news, refreshing Opal’s Instagram account, and obsessively looking at social media, they racked up an impressive dossier of evidence for anyone looking to implicate them, but they did not care. They had to know, and anyway, everyone seemed to be doing the same thing as they were. The comments on Opal’s reel kept appearing, registering shock and dismay, and perhaps surprisingly, plenty of admiration and glee, and not surprisingly at all, creepy male commentary on her body.

As they refreshed and clicked, they tried to come to terms with what was going on.

“We need to tell the police,” said Lilah. “She can’t go down for this all by herself. It’s not fair. She didn’t even kill anybody; that was us.”

“She decided to do this.” Marina was still stunned.

“But why?” asked Lilah. “We could have hidden S together. We could have got away with it, all three of us. We would’ve figured it out.”

“Maybe she didn’t think so.”

“Maybe she’ll get away. She could still get away, right?”

They kept swiping.

About ten o’clock, someone posted a link on Instagram to a video on Twitter. When Lilah opened it, she paled and beckoned Marina over and played it again.

Taken over the headrests on a train carriage: Opal in the aisle, her arms behind her as four officers led her off the train, two in front and two behind. She was smiling. When she passed the person who was filming, she winked at the camera. The user’s caption: Guys they caught @Hot_Fit_Mess on my train, when I am arrested for murder I want to look this good!

“They got her.”

“Oh my God.”

They played it three more times. Lilah stood.

“Where are you going?”

“The police.”

Marina grabbed her arm and pulled her back down to her chair at the kitchen table. “Lilah, Opal wanted to do this. This is what she wanted to happen.”

“But why?”

“Because she loves us. She said so in her note.”

“That’s no reason!”

“For Opal, it is.”

“We have to save her!”

“We can’t save her. But we can let her save us.”

Lilah stared, and began quietly crying. Marina kissed the top of her head, tenderly, like a mother; then she went down to the cellar and came back with a bottle of 2011 Chateau Pétrus. She uncorked it, decanted it, and lovingly poured three glasses. One for her, one for Lilah, and one for Opal.

Right there, she made herself a promise: she would always pour one for Opal.

“Drink this,” she said, pushing a glass over to Lilah. “We’ve got a long road ahead of us, if we’re going to do this.”

“Do what?” Lilah sniffed and wrapped her hands around the stem of the glass.

“It’s going to take a lot of planning. Especially without being able to use Google. It might take years. But with your research skills, and what we’ve learned already...”

“Research what?”

“First, a toast.” Marina chimed her glass on the side of Lilah’s. “To friendship.”

“To friendship.”

They drank.

“Wow,” said Lilah. “This is...crazy good.”

“It should be. It’s the second most expensive bottle in the cellar.”

“Why the second?”

Marina took a contemplative sip of wine, and rolled it in her mouth, savoring the bouquet, before she answered. “I’m saving the most valuable bottle for when we break Opal out of prison.”