by Kai Juniper
"It looks like Mr. Edwards is coming out of the house," the reporter says.
The camera shows the front door opening, then Principal Edwards coming out, dressed in black pants and a dark gray shirt, a solemn look on his face.
Reporters from the other news channels rush up around him, shouting questions.
"Mr. Edwards, what time did Kristen leave last night?"
"Do you know if she went directly to the suspect's house?"
"How long had she been seeing Mr. Novak?"
"Had Mr. Novak ever physically harmed Ms. Reynolds in the past?"
The questions keep coming as Principal Edwards slowly walks down the brick walkway in front of the house, cameras following him the entire time.
"Rumor!" Trystan bangs on my door. "Turn on the TV!"
"I'm already watching it!" I yell back.
My door swings open and Trystan races in, standing next to me as we both stare at the TV. "I can't believe she's dead."
"Shut up. I'm trying to hear."
Principal Edwards stops walking and lowers his head. The reporters quiet down. Principal Edwards pauses, then slowly lifts his head. It seems overly dramatic, almost fake. I'm sure he's upset about what happened but his reaction seems over-the-top, like he's doing it on purpose for the cameras.
"It is with great sorrow," he says, "that I stand here today, mourning the death of my dear sweet daughter, Kristen. She brought such a light to this world and will be greatly missed. Her mother and I are in shock as we struggle to understand how anyone could harm our baby girl. She was always so kind, so generous, willing to help anyone in need. To think that someone could take her life, and in such a violent manner, is beyond my comprehension. We ask that you give us privacy in our time of mourning."
He looks at the reporters, as if giving them permission to speak.
"Mr. Edwards, could you tell us any details about what happened?" a reporter asks.
"The police have asked that we not discuss details until further investigation has been done," Principal Edwards says. "But my wife and I are confident that they already have the person who did this in custody."
"Novak is done," Trystan says. "If he did this he—"
"He didn't do it." I shove his shoulder. "Be quiet or get out."
Trystan crosses his arms, his eyes back on the TV.
"Mr. Edwards," another reporter says. "Do you know if Mr. Novak was still involved with Ms. Reynolds despite his involvement with another girl?"
My heart pounds as I await his answer.
"It was my understanding that yes, they were still having relations, despite his involvement with the other girl."
I feel Trystan's eyes on me, but keep mine on the TV. It's not true. Jackson didn't cheat on me. He wouldn't do that. He told me things were over with Kristen and I believe him.
"And the girl he was involved with," the reporter says. "Is it true she's the niece of actor Brock Halliway?"
Principal Edwards nods. "Yes. The girl recently moved here and enrolled in Twisted Pine Academy."
"Where you are currently the principal," the reporter says.
"Yes, that's correct."
"And will you remain the principal? Despite what has happened?"
"As of now, that's the plan. The school is very important to me and I feel it's my duty to both the school and its students to return there as soon as possible."
"Regarding this girl," a different reporter says. "What do you know about her?"
"I know she has a troubled past. Her mother died suddenly, leaving her with nowhere to go. Brock Halliway, her uncle, generously offered to take her in."
"What about her father?" a reporter asks. "Brock's brother, Devon Halliway."
"As many of you know, Devon Halliway has struggled with drugs and alcohol for years, making him unable to care for his daughter. At least that's what I was told when Brock enrolled her in my school."
"What else do you know about her?" the reporter asks. "And do you think she was at all involved in what happened?"
"I'm hoping that's not the case but I'm not ruling it out. The girl is a bit of an outcast. She's struggled to make friends at school. She has anger management issues but is currently in counseling to hopefully help with that."
Trystan laughs. "Anger management issues."
"Shut up," I say, raising the volume on the TV.
"How well did she know Kristen?" a reporter asks.
"Unfortunately, Ms. Halliway didn't get along with Kristen, which is unusual because everyone got along with my daughter. Kristen was well-liked by everyone in school. But Ms. Halliway was very jealous of her, particularly when it came to her relationship with the Novak boy. There was an incident at school in which Ms. Halliway went so far as to use physical violence against my daughter, punching her in the face so hard she needed immediate medical attention."
"I barely punched her," I mutter.
"Given the girl's troubled past and history of physical violence toward my daughter,” Principal Edwards says, “I wouldn't at all be surprised if she was somehow connected to what happened to Kristen."
"So you think she was working with Novak to do this?" a reporter asks.
"At this point I don't want to make assumptions. I'm confident the police will discover the truth and make sure the right people are locked away." Principal Edwards looks at the camera directly in front of him. "Although the investigation is ongoing, I personally believe the killer is already behind bars. I thank you all for your prayers and concern for my wife and me during this difficult time. That is all I have to say for now." He turns and walks back to the house.
The camera pans back to the reporter.
"As you can see, the feelings are still raw from this tragedy. Steven Edwards is clearly shocked and distraught after learning his stepdaughter was found dead behind the house of the boy she was in a relationship with. Now we're learning another teen may have been involved. A troubled girl who recently moved here and was apparently also dating Mr. Novak. It's not yet known if the girl had anything to do with the murder but hopefully we'll know more as the investigation unfolds. Now back to you, Marissa."
They switch back to the news desk and move on to another story. I turn the TV off, staring at it in disbelief.
"Shit," Trystan says, rubbing his jaw. "Now I'm thinking you did it."
"I didn't do it!" I turn to him. "What the hell?"
"The way he just talked about you? Makes it sound like you did it."
"He said I'm not popular. And that I punched Kristen. Only one of those things is true. And it doesn't mean I killed her."
"Doesn't matter. It only has to LOOK like you had something to do with it. When they were going after Braden for Andrea's death, all they had for evidence was him fighting with her that night. That was all they needed to haul him off to the police station. I'm just saying, you hitting Kristen looks bad. And everyone knows you hated her."
"I didn't do this," I say, looking him in the eye.
He shrugs. "I believe you. I'm just not sure a jury will."
"It's not going to get to that point because I'm not going to be charged for something I didn't do."
"I wouldn't worry about it. Dad's lawyers are fucking sharks. They aren't afraid to go after the cops. All it'll take is one screw-up and Dad's lawyers will be threatening a lawsuit against them."
The doorbell rings and I freeze, assuming it's the police again. Why would they come back? Brock already told them I wouldn't talk to them. Did they come back with a warrant? Are they here to arrest me?
"Go!" I yell at Trystan.
He laughs as he walks to the door. "At least if you're in jail you won't have to go to school."
"Way to support me, Trystan." I shut the door as he leaves.
Moments later, someone knocks on my door.
"Trystan, go away!" I yell. "I can't deal with you right now."
"Rumor, open up."
It's Brock.
I open the door, peeking around him to make
sure he's alone. "I'm not talking to them. I thought you told them to talk to your lawyers."
"It isn't the police. Someone else is here to see you."
"Who?"
"Roman Novak. Jackson's father. He wants to talk to you. I thought he was here to—" Brock shakes his head. "Never mind. Come out to the living room. He's waiting for you."
Brock seems nervous, and not scared-nervous, but the type of nervous you get when you're around someone famous. I didn't think Brock got that way. He's always so confident and sure of himself. I didn't think he ever got nervous.
"Roman," Brock says with a big smile. "This is Rumor, my niece."
Roman is standing in the living room, his phone in his hand, wearing jeans and a white button-up shirt with a brown leather jacket over it. He looks just like Jackson, at least in the face. He's tall, but doesn't have Jackson's muscular body.
"Hi," I say, going up and shaking his hand.
"Rumor," he says. "Interesting name."
"My mom was an artist. She didn't like traditional names."
"Would you like something to drink?" Brock asks Roman. "I have a large selection of bourbon."
Roman looks at him. "Typically I'd say yes but since I'll be heading to the police station soon I'll have to pass."
"Perhaps a water instead?"
"Yes. That's fine."
Brock hurries off to get it, which shocks me. I've never seen him offer anyone anything.
"Do you know my uncle?" I ask Roman.
"We're in the same industry so yes, we've crossed paths but I haven't actually worked with him."
"You're a movie director, right?"
"I am. Just started work on a new film. We're currently doing casting. I was in LA when I got the call this morning." He points to the couch. "Shall we sit?"
We both take a seat. He sits like Jackson does, tall and straight, his long legs nearly hitting the coffee table as he turns toward me.
I miss Jackson so much. My heart is hurting for him. Aching to be with him. He's alone in some jail cell, waiting to find out what'll happen to him. Accused of murder. Probably thinking he'll be locked up for life.
"Rumor?"
I startle from my thoughts and realize I didn't hear anything Roman just said.
"Sorry," I say. "What were you saying?"
"I asked if you know anything about what happened last night. I want you to tell me the truth. This is just between us. I won't share this with the police."
Does he really think I'd believe that? I just met the guy. I trust him as much as I trust Brock, which is not at all.
"There isn't much to say. Jackson and I met up at a party, he took me to San Diego to get something to eat, then he took me home."
"And you didn't hear from him after that?"
"He called me but we didn't talk long. I was tired and he said he needed to—" I stop, remembering what Jackson said last night about the security cameras being broken. What if it wasn't the wind that did it? What if whoever killed Kristen broke the cameras?
"Needed to what?" Roman says. "Finish what you were saying."
"Do you know what time it happened?" I ask. "Did the police tell you?"
"No. They haven't told me anything. Why?"
"Your water," Brock says, appearing beside Roman and handing him a bottle of water.
"Thank you," Roman says, not even looking Brock's way. "Continue what you were saying."
I glance at Brock. "Could you give us a minute?"
Brock chuckles. "Rumor, you know you can say anything in front of me. We have no secrets in this family."
Is he for real? This family is nothing BUT secrets.
Roman turns to Brock. "I'd like to speak with her in private."
"Of course," Brock says, backing away. "I'll be in my office. Let me know when you're leaving. I'll see you out."
We wait for Brock to leave.
"He's hoping to get a part," Roman says, opening his bottle of water. He smiles for the first time since he got here. "Actors are so transparent. They think I can't tell they're acting when they turn on the charm like that but they overdo it and give themselves away."
"Do you mean a part in your next movie?"
"Yes." He takes a drink. "We had a meeting scheduled in LA for next week. I agreed to meet with Brock and his agent as a favor to—" He pauses. "Let's just forget that last part. Please. Go back to what you were saying. You talked to Jackson last night and he told you something."
"He said the security cameras weren't working. He said he heard noises out back but when he went to check the cameras, they were broken. They weren't recording. He was going to try to fix them. "
"He knows how?" Roman asks, sounding surprised.
"He said he fixed them before. I don't know if he got them fixed last night. I went to bed and in the morning all the stuff with Kristen was happening."
"So you haven't talked to him since last night?"
"No. He sent me some texts this morning saying to call him but I didn't see them until later." My palms are getting sweaty just talking about this, and my throat is dry. I wish Brock had brought me a water too.
"What else do you know?" Roman asks.
"About what happened? Nothing. Like I said, I went to bed and when I woke up I went to the kitchen and Braden said something about Jackson being in trouble. I thought he meant about Andrea. I didn't know about Kristen until I ran down to his house."
"You know about Andrea," he says, folding his arms over his chest.
"Yes, and I think it's wrong they're going after Jackson for that. Or for what happened to Kristen. Jackson would never hurt anyone. He was trying to help Kristen. Andrea too. He said he went to the party that night because Andrea called him, asking for a ride."
Roman nods. "He told me that too. What was he doing for Kristen? How was he helping her?"
"She had problems at home. She went to Jackson's house to get away."
His brows draw together. "What kind of problems?"
"I can't say. Maybe he'd tell you if you asked. Have you talked to him?"
"Only long enough for him to tell me he was in jail."
"Can you get him out? Like post bail or something?" I ask, sounding desperate. The thought of Jackson in jail is killing me. He doesn't belong there. He didn't do anything.
"Bail isn't an option right now. In murder cases the suspect needs to appear before a judge, who will then determine bail."
"How long before that happens?"
"It could be up to a week but I'm trying to speed it up. I know one of the judges in town. We went to college together. He might be able to see Jackson later today."
"He might get out of jail?" I ask, getting excited. "Today?"
"It's possible. The bail money won't be a problem. It's getting him in front of a judge that could be an issue."
"You said your friend could help."
"It's more complicated than that." He sets his water on the coffee table. "How involved are you with Jackson?"
From his tone, it sounds like he doesn't trust me. Like he thinks I'm the reason Jackson is in jail. Maybe I'm reading him wrong but I don't like how he's making me feel right now.
Chapter Four
"Jackson and I are friends," I say to his dad.
"It was my understanding you're more than that."
"We are. We've been dating since school started, or around that time."
"While he was still dating Kristen?"
"No. That ended. He told her he had someone else. She didn't take it well and told me to leave him alone."
"Is that why you hit her?"
"Yeah," I say, looking down. "Who did you hear that from?"
"I heard it on the news on my way over."
I look up at him. "What they said about me....it's not true. Kristen's dad made me sound like a crazy person but I swear, that's not me. And Kristen isn't the angel her dad made her out to be on TV today. She lied all the time. She'd tell Jackson one thing and me another. I don't know what she was
up to before she died but something was going on."
"Something that would lead to her murder?"
"Maybe. I don't know. I just know Jackson didn't do it."
"And you're sure he was no longer seeing her?"
"I guess I can't say for sure." I pause, thinking of Axl and how sure I was he'd never cheat. And then he did.
"What else can you tell me?" Roman asks. "Can you think of anything that could prove Jackson's innocence?"
My mind immediately thinks of what Kristen said about her dad. About how he strangled her that night she came running to Jackson. When I asked her about it, she made it sound like it was some kind of foreplay used by Principal Edwards when the two of them had sex. But what if it wasn't? What if the story she told Jackson was true? What if Principal Edwards really was trying to hurt her? Even so, it couldn't have been him who killed her. He was home last night.
"Rumor?" Roman says, getting my attention. "Is there anything else?"
"I can't think of anything. But if I do, could I call you?"
He reaches in his pocket and pulls out a business card and hands it to me.
"I don't usually pick up, but my assistant checks my voicemail. I'll make sure she knows to tell me you called." He stands up. "I need to get going. If you think of anything else—anything that might help Jackson—please let me know."
"I will." I follow him to the door. "Is your wife here too?"
"She's at our house in LA. She struggles with these types of situations. It worsens her anxiety."
"So she won't be coming to see Jackson?"
"She might. It'll depend on how things go."
"Roman." Brock races up behind me. "Leaving so soon?"
"Yes. I need to head down to the police station."
Brock chuckles. "We've spent an inordinate amount of time there the past year, haven't we?"
Roman looks at him, annoyed. "I don't know why that's humorous."
"It's not," Brock rushes to say. "I was just trying to lighten the mood. It's been stressful having the police back in our lives. I thought this issue with Andrea was over and now it's suddenly back again."