Lies Like Poison

by Chelsea Pitcher

  He couldn’t prove it.

  17

  I’m Good at Taking Things

  Belle inhaled slowly, her breath rattling against her ribs like a ghost shaking loose from a skeleton. Beside her, Jack was hunched over on the bunk bed, head clutched in her hands.

  “You tripped that man,” Belle said, her voice soft and her head close to Jack’s ear.

  “Yes.”

  “That’s why you called off the murder of Raven’s stepmother. Because you almost killed a person, and it scared you to know you were capable of that.”

  “No.” Jack lifted her head, her gaze steely. Unflinching. “I was shaking for days after it happened, and I could hardly eat or sleep, but I wasn’t sorry for what I did to that man. I didn’t feel guilty.” A beat, followed by a breath. “I called off the murder because I didn’t want Raven to see what was inside me. I would lose him, and I wouldn’t be able to stand it. That hasn’t changed.”

  Belle swallowed, anger slipping off her the way grime slips off a body during a long, satisfying shower. The kind she would take if she ever got out of this place. “You didn’t kill Evelyn Holloway.”

  A slight shake of the head. “Of course I didn’t, Belle. I’m not who you think I am.”

  “Then who the hell did it? I didn’t kill her, and Lily was accounted for all night—”

  “By her dad.”

  Belle’s head snapped up. “What did you say?”

  “Lily spent that whole night with her dad. I guess he went to visit her at the facility, and they spent hours going over the paperwork for him to get full custody.” Jack shook her head, tapping her fingers on the blanket. “If both of them were accounted for, then I don’t know—”

  “Lily wasn’t with her dad.”

  Jack turned to her, eyes narrowed, and Belle told herself to stop talking. She’d distrusted Jack for so long. She’d had reason to distrust Jack and Raven, but their crimes felt minuscule in comparison to the horror unfolding around her now. Someone had framed her for the murder of Evelyn Holloway. Now Jack was locked up beside her, but it couldn’t have been Lily who was punishing them for their adolescent plot.

  Belle knew it for a fact.

  “Lily was with me that night,” she said softly. “We started talking a few months after Raven went to boarding school, and by the time he was on his way home, she and I were…”

  “Close,” Jack finished, and mercifully didn’t ask her to elaborate. For that, Belle was grateful. Belle’s entanglement with Lily was nothing to be ashamed of, but for the time being, it was theirs. She didn’t want to share it. She especially didn’t want to detail the greatest night of her life while locked in a dingy cell with the person she’d hated for years.

  Those moments had been sacred. Those kisses, life affirming. And that touch… no, she wouldn’t sully the beauty of what they had just to convince Jack of Lily’s innocence.

  “She got to my house around ten thirty,” Belle said, because this was the important part. The timing. The facts. “According to the police, Evelyn was killed between eleven and one. Lily couldn’t have done it. She was with me that whole time, which means—”

  “She’s covering for her dad.”

  Belle nodded, a heaviness pressing into her chest. “When the cops showed up at my door in the middle of the night, I thought they were there because Lily had snuck out of the facility. I sent her out the back door. By the time I realized they were there to arrest me, she was long gone.”

  “And you thought she’d gone back to the facility.”

  “Yes. I thought she’d get in trouble if anyone knew she’d broken out. They’d punish her, or drug her up, or send her to a higher-security facility. So I kept quiet when the detective asked about my alibi. I thought I was protecting her, when all that time she could’ve been protecting me. She could’ve told the truth instead of claiming she was with her dad.”

  “Why would she throw you under the bus to protect him?”

  “She must not think he’s the killer,” Belle said, her heart clenching as if a fist had wrapped around it. “At the very least, she’s in denial about it. He spent the past year looking for a steady job and a place for them to live. The thought of losing him, after just losing her mom, must be crushing. So Lily started looking for another suspect, and when she saw you burning Raven’s clothes, she thought you might’ve committed the murder while wearing them. She knew you kissed Raven behind my back. I told her, because I’d come up with this plan—”

  “About the kiss,” Jack broke in, and Belle shook her head, wincing.

  “I’m not ready, Jack. I believe you didn’t kill Lily’s mother, but I’m not ready to forgive you for kissing Raven. He’d just broken up with me. My heart was already so battered, and when I saw the two of you in the rose garden, I swear, my heart tumbled out of my chest. I felt empty for months. And then…” Belle closed her eyes, the sweetness of a memory washing over her. She’d been visiting Lily in the wellness facility for more than a year when she’d told Lily what had happened to her heart. The ache of her chest cavity opening and the detached sense of horror when she’d felt her heart, raw and red, slipping out. It had fallen into the dirt, gathering thorns and leaves.

  She’d left it there to rot.

  “My mother replaced the roses,” Lily had said, tucking a pale strand of hair behind her ear. She was wearing her usual bulky sweater, with at least two T-shirts beneath it. “She doesn’t visit me often, but we’ve been emailing a bit, and she told me a story about planting white roses to replace the red. Those are her favorite, you know? They’re pure and chaste, like her daughter.” A smile, followed by a grimace. “But something strange is happening in the garden. One of the roses keeps growing back red. She’s tried cutting it out, and she’s tried digging it up, but it just keeps coming back. Belle, I think that rose is your heart.”

  Belle burst into laughter, because the suggestion was absurd. Impossible. And yet, at the mention of her heart, still alive and causing Lily’s mother grief, she’d felt a stirring in her chest that she hadn’t felt since Raven had left town.

  She strolled out of the facility that day with a spring in her step and a great, buffoonish grin on her face. She didn’t care who might see it. For the next few days, Belle was giddy with the thought of her heart surviving the worst thing she’d been able to imagine: the loss of the boy she loved and her best friend.

  She didn’t visit Holloway Manor right away. Deep down in her gut, she feared Lily’s story had been just that: a fairy tale to carry her through dark times. A fable to help her sleep at night. But Belle had never been one for pleasing lies, and by the end of the week, she decided to pay a visit to Raven’s estate during her lunch break. She snuck through the back gate. Crept up to the perfectly manicured garden and saw… a sea of white roses. No red sprung up among them, and no crimson petals dotted the ground, hinting at a recent pruning.

  The red rose did not exist.

  Belle started to cry then, big, blubbery tears that filled her with shame. She shouldn’t have wanted this. Shouldn’t have believed in magical roses or hearts that could be resurrected. Something inside her had died the night she’d watched Raven kiss Jack, and it would never come back to life.

  She returned to Lily in a rage. Her friend was sitting in the common area, flipping through a magazine.

  “How could you do that?” Belle hissed, sitting beside Lily on the patchwork couch. “How could you lie to me? I found your father for you, and I made sure he wanted to see you before I gave you his name.”

  “You didn’t give me his name.” Lily hadn’t looked up from the page. Her voice was calm, unconcerned. “I stole it from you.”

  “Fine, you stole it from me. You’re good at taking things and not giving back.”

  “You’re right, I’m good at taking things.” Lily pushed off the couch. With a wave of her hand, she led Belle past the common area, down the hall, and through the open door of her room. The bed was unmade. The stack of magazine
s on the bedside table, arranged haphazardly. Beside the stack sat a vase, and rising up from the clear, elegant crystal was a crimson rose.

  “Is that…” Belle approached the vase with caution, a softness rustling in her chest. “How did you—”

  “My dad cut it for me. We’ve been emailing for months, and when he offered to come see me, I asked if he could sneak onto the estate and bring the red rose to me. He works the night shift at a plant nursery so he’s very good at keeping flowers alive. This one’s been here for almost a week.” Lily came up behind her, and Belle could feel her presence as strongly as she’d felt Raven’s absence in the months after he went away. “You’re lucky you came when you did. It’s starting to wilt.”

  Here, Belle’s gaze dropped to the smattering of petals already on the table. Living things were so fragile. So quick to wither and die. What would happen to her when the last petal fell?

  “You know what I think?” Lily strode past her and sat on the bed. Her fingers brushed the petals of the rose with so much tenderness, Belle swore she felt movement in her chest. Not quite a beat. But a definite pulse. “I think you cast a spell that day, standing in the rose garden and feeling your heart break. I think you let it go because you thought it would kill you to feel that pain. But you’re stronger now.” She patted the bed, and Belle sat beside her, her stomach tightening in anticipation. Lily turned to her. She turned to Lily. “There’s only one way to break the spell,” Lily said. Miraculously, her hand was no longer caressing the rose, but rather had come to rest on Belle’s.

  That time she felt more than a pulsing inside her chest. She felt a thud. “How?” she asked, turning her hand over so they could lace their fingers together.

  “You have to kiss someone.” Lily looked up, a slight quirk in her lips. “Someone you love. Do you think you can do it?”

  Belle sucked in a breath, forcing herself to look Lily in the eyes. “I can try,” she whispered, and though nothing happened between them that night, the possibilities unfolded inside her like pathways twisting in a forest. They could have adventures together, and maybe someday her heart would be healed enough to let Lily in.

  Now, sitting in a cold gray cell, she thought of what that hope had cost her. Lily had left her in this place, and Lily had not even tried to provide her with an alibi, because Lily was protecting her dad.

  “We need to call Raven,” Belle whispered to Jack. “Lily hid the Recipe for the Perfect Murder in the orchard, and if she mentioned the location to her dad, he must’ve gone looking for it. Maybe he left evidence out there. A strand of hair or a piece of his jacket.”

  “It’s a long shot,” Jack replied. “And if Lily told her dad where to find the recipe, she’d have to know he poisoned Evelyn. Maybe he overheard her talking about it.”

  “Where? She’s been at the facility for the past three years, and the walls there are thick. It’s not like at Raven’s house, where you can hear people talking through the vents.” Belle frowned, her brow furrowing. “I went over there the day Evelyn died, you know. To search Raven’s room.”

  “Raven told me,” Jack said, taking a deep breath. “They got you on camera entering the estate. I assume you wouldn’t have gone through the front gate if you were planning to murder someone.”

  Belle huffed, shaking her head ruefully. “I wanted to check for cars in the driveway. To make sure no one was home. Once I knew the house was empty, I went up to Raven’s room, but I kept thinking about the vents. How he could hear his parents arguing back when Arianna was alive. How I’d put a pillow over his vent when we wanted privacy—” Belle broke off at the sound of the cell clattering open. A broad-shouldered woman stuck her head inside, gesturing at the girls. That was what Belle thought. But when both of them stood from the bunk, the woman held up a hand, saying, “McClain, you’re being released.”

  “What?” Jack’s eyes went wide as she stumbled toward the guard. “How? Is my mom picking me up? Did she back up—”

  “Not your mother,” the woman said, muttering something into a radio and getting a crackling response. “Stefan Holloway.”

  18

  The Secret That’s Been Crushing You

  Raven Holloway was not a liar. But these were desperate times. It took about an hour to convince his father to go along with his plan, and another hour and a half before they tracked down the detective and fed him their story. By the time Raven arrived at the juvenile detention center, he felt as if winds were kicking up dust in his chest, rustling leaves and knocking down branches. He hadn’t wanted to lie to the police.

  But he needed to rescue Jack.

  Now he sat patiently in the passenger seat of his family’s sedan as Dr. Holloway went to check Jack out of the detention center. He couldn’t stop tapping his fingers on the dash. The clock blinked back at him, flashing 9:13 p.m., and he wondered what horrors Jack had already endured inside that hideous orange building. To curb the panic inside his chest, he slid out of the front seat, climbing into the back, where Jack could meet him. She would be exhausted from her time in the detention center. If she needed a shoulder to rest on, Raven could provide that for her, and maybe, over the course of the ride home, her hand would slide into his.

  And he’d never let her go.

  Seconds turned into minutes. When the door finally opened, Raven half expected an officer to duck into the car, cuffs in hand. Instead, he saw a familiar tuft of auburn curls, and the breath rushed out of him. She was here, sliding into the seat beside him, her bright green eyes filled with wonder and awe.

  “How—?” she began, as Dr. Holloway opened the driver’s side door. He settled into his seat, closed the door, and turned to look at her.

  “You don’t have to worry. Everything’s taken care of.” He was wearing a freshly pressed suit, and his face was clean shaven. His dark hair, combed and styled. All of this had been Raven’s idea, because they’d needed to sell their story to the police. “Your brothers are sleeping in our guest rooms, along with Flynn’s new friend, while the police track down your mother.”

  Jack looked from Dr. Holloway to Raven. “But I don’t understand. How did you get me out?”

  “Raven told me you broke into Evelyn’s office.” Dr. Holloway pulled out of the parking lot, easing the sedan onto the street. “He explained that you were looking for a suspect, so you could clear Belladonna’s name. You copied the files of her clients, and when the police arrived, you tried to burn them before you were found out.”

  “I… yeah, that’s what happened.” Jack’s face was tomato red. Her gaze was on her feet. “You aren’t mad?”

  “I wasn’t thrilled when I heard about what you did,” Raven’s dad said, signaling to turn left. “But we’re all trying to make sense of what happened to my wife, and I understand why you did what you did. The police asked me if I wanted to press charges, since I’m leasing Evelyn’s office. I said no.”

  “You did?” Jack stammered, looking to Raven in shock. “But the police aren’t going to let this go. They think—”

  “I know what they think,” Stefan said gently. “That’s why I sat down with the detective and explained that you couldn’t have had anything to do with Evelyn’s death. You were with me at the airport the entire time.”

  “What?” The curve in Jack’s frown made Raven’s stomach hurt. He wanted to trace his fingers across those lips, teasing a smile out of her. He couldn’t help but notice that their hands were far apart. If he wanted to brush his pinkie against hers, he’d have to cross an ocean to reach her.

  “My original flight was canceled,” Raven explained, inching his hand closer. Just a little. “But my dad didn’t get the message about it, so he thought I was getting in at eleven thirty. The camera on the front gate captured him leaving the house at ten o’clock. Since the airport is two towns over, it takes an hour and a half to get there. He was five minutes away when he thought to check his phone, and that’s when he realized I wouldn’t be getting in until the next day. So he went home.”


  “And he found…” Jack didn’t speak the word Evelyn aloud. She must’ve suspected it would feel like a knife in Dr. Holloway’s heart. It would probably always feel like a jagged blade had lodged itself there, making it difficult to breathe. Speak. Sleep. Raven knew that feeling well, and his heart surged with warmth when Jack’s fingers found his across the wide expanse of the car.

  “Evelyn died between eleven and one,” Raven said, hitching in a breath. He felt guilty for thinking of his mom when she wasn’t the one who’d just died, but if she hadn’t been killed, she’d be sitting in the front seat right now, her fingers twining with his dad’s. Then again, if she hadn’t been killed, Evelyn would’ve never moved into their house, and none of this would’ve happened.

  The thought unsettled him.

  “It would’ve been literally impossible for you to have poisoned her,” Raven pushed on, ignoring the intake of breath from the front of the car. The tensing of his father’s shoulders. He had to explain this part, in order for Jack to understand their deception. “You were in the car with my dad at the time, driving back from the airport. As soon as we explained that to the detective, he put in the call to let you out.”

  “But I told him I’d been with Belle,” Jack blurted, almost as if she hadn’t wanted to. Those words had a mind of their own. They slipped into the world, trickling around the quiet of the sedan. “I gave Belle an alibi.”

  “And the detective knew you were lying,” Raven said calmly. “If you’d told him you were with my dad, it would’ve sealed Belle’s fate.”

  “Didn’t he think it was strange?” Jack’s brow was furrowed, her gaze shifting to Raven’s dad in the front seat. “He interviewed you the night of the murder, right? Wouldn’t you have mentioned me then?”

  “I was in shock,” Dr. Holloway said simply. “I hardly remembered the drive to the airport, let alone what happened after. The detective understood that, and he has me on camera leaving the house at ten. He has me on camera coming back after one.”