“All her begging did was spark this overwhelming need to tell Bram and Adam,” Henry continues. “We finally had answers. Our names would be cleared.” He stops pacing to meet my gaze, his eyes flooded with sorrow. With regret. “I started walking away, trying to leave the woods. Kennedy was shouting for me to come back. She said I’d promised her the tube of lipstick, but I didn’t stop. Then her voice was lost beneath the fire alarm, just as I’d hoped. I headed through the east side of campus, straight for the parking lot. That’s all I know. I have no idea what happened after that.”
I wish I knew if he was telling the truth. Up until last week, I didn’t think Henry was capable of lying to me or to anyone else. Butnow I think he’s more than capable. Now I think that Henry’s high intelligence makes lying easy for him. That he’s able to think two steps ahead of everyone else and craft the exact story he needs to tell.
“Part of me thought maybe Kennedy couldn’t handle the truth getting out,” Henry says solemnly, “so she…you know.” His gaze lowers. “But Bram said it couldn’t have been a suicide, not considering how she looked in the woods.” He shuts his eyes as if the gruesome images are right here in the room, displayed before him.
“It wasn’t suicide,” I say, remembering with a shiver how Kennedy’s head was split open, her blood pooling over the forest floor. “But maybe it was an accident, Henry,” I press on, even as he shakes his head. “Bram told me Kennedy got aggressive with him, physical even. Maybe she tried to grab you, to keep you from telling. No one would blame you for defending yourself.”
“No,” Henry says, stepping toward me with his hands folded together. “I swear to you, all we did was talk. She begged me not to say anything, but she never touched me. And Ineverlaid a finger on her. When I left the woods, she was alive.”
He’s looking at me, pleading with his eyes, awaiting a response. I don’t have one.
The doorbell below draws Henry’s attention, rescuing me from his searing gaze. The sound is followed by loud knocking.
“Some sort of prank?” Henry asks, moving toward the door.
“You’re not expecting anyone?”
“Not unless Mr. Swanson decided to pay us a visit.”
Through the wall, I hear Adam’s thunderous footsteps. Then his voice booms into the hallway, “Is anyone going to get the door?”
I follow Henry out as Bram emerges, dressed for the day in his usual dark jeans and a black graphic T-shirt. Seeing us, Adam retreats back into his room, slamming the door.
The knocking continues as we make our way down the stairs. Just before we reach the door, a muffled voice from the other side yells, “Police! Open up!”
My heart seizes. Police?
Henry and Bram exchange a fearful look. “Go,” Henry tells Bram, batting his brother away from the door before opening it.
Bram doesn’t obey, remaining at his side when Detective Wilson says, “Bram Abbott, you’re under arrest for the murder of Kennedy Russo. You have the right to remain silent.” In the commotion, Henry tries to ask questions, demands to see the warrant.
But Bram remains stoic. He practically turns his own back to Detective Chase, helping the man cuff his wrists.
My eyes start to tear, and I want to yell at him todosomething. To ask for his lawyer, resist somehow.
But then I realize that he’s turned to me. “Hey, Phil,” he says tipping his head low to meet my eyes, his use of the nickname pulling us back to when we were kids. To when things were light and easy, everything a joke to him. “It’s going to be okay. I’m okay.” Even as the cuffs click shut and Detective Chase yanks him backward, Bram offers a small smile. “Be strong.”
But I can’t be, not when they’re dragging him off to jail. “Isn’tthere something you can do?” I ask Henry as Adam appears behind us now, already shouting at the detectives.
“I don’t—” Henry turns to Adam. “Get Mr. Swanson on the phone.”
Adam nods, pulling his phone from his pocket as he ducks back inside the house.
But it’s too late. The detectives are walking Bram down the cobblestone path to the circular driveway where their cruiser is waiting. Watching him placed inside, calm as ever while the world is shattering all around him, feels like some vital piece of me is floating off down the creek. I want to run after him. Only I know that won’t help things.
Unable to catch my breath as the car drives off, I lower onto the porch steps. Behind me, Henry is on the phone with his dad. “Just get back, okay? Bram needs you.”
He hangs up and descends the steps, standing on the cobblestone path. “This is bad.”
“How can they have enough evidence to arrest him?” I ask, trying not to cry. “Just his image on a security camera doesn’t prove anything.”
“They already subpoenaed his phone,” Henry says. “Our lawyer called this morning.”
“What? Bram never said—”
“I’m sure he didn’t want to worry you,” Henry says, lips twisting as he looks up at me. “But by now, they know that Bram was texting Kennedy and that he was supposed to meet her in the woods. They know he wanted her to leave him alone, that he pulled the fire alarm.They’ll simply fill in the rest.”
“Even if it’s not the truth?”
