Page 133 of Good Girls Lie

“No. Her name is Alexandria Pine,” Kate Wood says. “The rumors were right. She is Ashlyn Carr’s half sister.”

The dean looks stunned, but the sheriff simply nods at me.

“Kate’s been talking with Scotland Yard. We’d like to hear it from you, though.”

I have no choice, not anymore. “Yes, I am Alexandria Pine. You have to listen to me. Ashlyn is incredibly dangerous. She’s the threat. Please, Dean. Can we go to your office? I’ll explain everything inside. I... I can’t look at Becca like this anymore.”

The dean throws a look to the sheriff. “Go on. I’m right behind you,” he says.

I climb into the Bentley, the smell of old leather and gasoline welcome, safe. So much better than the blood and effluvia and fear outside.

The dean slams her door and we’re alone, watching the surreal scene from the comfort of our luxurious little bubble. She doesn’t look at me, is staring straight ahead.

“Where were you last night?”

I gesture to the small bag on my shoulder. “In the woods. I ran away. I couldn’t do this anymore. Becca—”

My breath hitches.Be brave, little Swallow, she says to me from somewhere beyond ourselves, and I clear my throat and start again. “Should we wait for the sheriff and the detective? The story is quite detailed.”

“Fine.”

The dean turns over the engine and shifts through the gears, drives us to the back of the school. The symbolism of the two crime scenes is not lost on me. The roommate dead out back, the lover dead out front.

Ashlyn is making sure I know I’m surrounded.

The dean parks in a slot right by the back door of Main, at the security office, and we filter inside, one after the other. The tension in her shoulders is palpable. I realize her hair is down; she’s not wearing makeup. She’s in jeans and a sweater and sneakers. She could be a student if it weren’t for the paper-thin lines above her mouth and the incipient creases around those wide-set gray eyes.

She’s not her usual Chanel-suited self. She’s been pulled from her bed.

He was with me.

She spent the night with Rumi.

Holy mother. The dean and Rumi. I would have never guessed.

My first instinct iswait until Becca finds outand the arrow of sorrow that pierces my heart makes me gasp aloud. I’ve killed her. I’ve killed Camille. I’ve killed them all. It is my fault. If I had only been brave, if I had only said no. They would still be alive.

Inside the dean’s office, I expect her to sit me down and force out the truth, but instead, she excuses herself, moves to her bathroom. I can hear the faint sounds of screaming, recognizable because I used to do the same thing when frustrated, fold a washcloth in half, bite it, and scream myself hoarse in fury at the injustices of the world. Then the toilet flushes and she emerges looking a little more clear-eyed.

“Tea,” she says. “Then you can tell me everything. But before anyone else gets here...why did you send the photographs? Were you planning to blackmail me?”

“I didn’t. Piper told me you found a phone in my room. It wasn’t mine. It had to be Ashlyn’s. She’s behind all of this.”

“How do you know?”

“Because technically, the email you showed me came from one of my accounts. We have a couple set up for emergencies. She must have logged into it from the phone, had the message sitting in the draft folder. When I opened the email to check it, something sent. I couldn’t see what it was, and that made me nervous, so I destructed the email address.”

“The message with the photos, it’s not retrieveable?”

“No. It’s completely gone.”

The dean blows out a breath and goes about making tea.

I see what she’s thinking.

“I won’t mention it,” I say and she nods, not meeting my eyes.

My soul hurts, so badly I want to bend in half and hold on for dear life. But I can’t. We have to catch Ashlyn. We have to stop her. She has to be punished.