Page 74 of Good Girls Lie

“Yes, sir.”

“Your friend said she was with you all night. Was she also in the shower with you?”

Ash blushes to the roots of her hair. “No, sir. She’d gone up to bed.”

“So, she wasn’t with you every moment of the night.”

“We were together all night. Just not for the ten minutes it took me to shower and change. Dr. Asolo came for me moments after I went to bed. And to answer your question again, no, she is not my girlfriend. Becca has been mentoring me. She’s been very kind.”

“Mentoring, how?”

“Today is a good example. I hadn’t shared my history with any of my mates, and it came out over breakfast. I was upset and ran away, into the forest. Becca came to make sure I was okay, to assure me this is a passing moment. To give me perspective. There’s nothing going on between us, not like you think.”

“All right. Fair enough. Tell me about your relationship with your roommate again.”

“We don’t get on wonderfully, but it’s fine. It was fine.”

“And you didn’t know anything about the abortion? She didn’t mention a thing?”

“No. But she wouldn’t have confided in me.”

“Well, Tony? Satisfied?”

“We’re going to have to take your shirt with us for analysis, Ash.”

“No!”

All three adults look surprised.

“It was a gift. It means a lot to me. I need to keep it.”

The sheriff stands. “Unfortunately, you can’t. We will follow you to your room where you can change in privacy, and then you can meet up with your friend. Just so you aren’t surprised, we may want to talk again. Get some sleep. Tomorrow will be a long day.”

“Like that will happen,” Ash mutters.

45

THE BETRAYAL

I am loath to give up the shirt. It feels like if I do, I’m severing my new and tenuous ties to Ivy Bound in some way. I hardly have a choice, though, the two police are standing outside my door and the dean is watching me expectantly.

I turn my back to hide the rash I know is blooming on my body. I strip off the shirt, scramble into another, and hand it over. What else am I going to do? If I fight this, it will look bad. I just need them to go away and leave me alone.

The dean gives me a watery smile, holding the T-shirt like it’s a dead ferret. “It will all be okay, Ash. I promise. I’ll send Becca to escort you upstairs. Try to get some sleep. I’ll talk to you in the morning.”

She pauses, as if she wants to say something more, then shakes her head and leaves.

Jesus, Camille. What the hell did you do? And what the hell have you done to me?

I move to the window, look out onto the darkened quad. It’s almost three in the morning. Where is Camille now? In the back of an ambulance? In a drawer at the morgue? Still lying, broken and bloodied, on the concrete?

Stupid girl. Stupid, stupid girl.

“That’s no way to talk to your Mistress.”

Becca darkens my doorstep, and I bite back a scream of surprise. I didn’t realize I said it aloud, and I am so damn tired of everyone sneaking up on me.

Becca’s reflection in the window: the popped hip, the pouty smile, the ruffled, messy bun make her look so innocent. She is heartbreakingly beautiful and devastatingly cruel, and I am torn between loving her and hating her. I can’t help but feel that somehow, because I came to Becca’s notice, that Becca saw me and was compelled to tease me that first day, I have led us all to this precipice. A twisted kind of fate.