Page 68 of Twisted Elites

“Yes?” She put down her mug.

He strode through the dining room. “Ashley Evergreen, you are under arrest on suspicion of sexual assault and murder.”

Chapter 17

The bearded sergeant gave Ashley a second for his words to sink in.

“What?” Her eyes widened, and she turned toward me. “I didn’t kill anyone. Willow, tell them!”

Another policeman appeared at her side. He pulled her out of her seat, clapped a handcuff on one wrist, and positioned her arms around her back.

Throughout this, the sergeant continued. “You do not have to say anything, but it may harm your defense if you do not mention when questioned something you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence.”

As realization set in, Ashley fixed me with a glare that severed through my soul. There was no confusion. No hurt. Just understanding combined with an intense look of hatred that made me wonder if someone other than my sister had inhabited her body.

My throat dried. Maybe this was Ashley without the buffer of Mom and Dad. Without the ulterior motives and without the masks. If this was how she had felt about me all along, then all her hurtful actions made sense. Ashley had betrayed me over and over until it had become a way of life. Now that she had committed murder, I couldn’t show her any compassion.

She left without a fuss, without a word, without a backward glance. Perhaps her ordeal with Mr. Byrd had drained all her strength, or discovering that DJ Bones had swindled her out of a fortune had broken her spirit. Or maybe she could no longer look at me after what I had done.

Walking behind the black-clad officers surrounding Ashley was like being in the back of a funeral procession. The next time I would see her, it would probably be at her murder trial.

Leopold stepped out from the kitchen doorway, and Sebastian raced around the table. Both stared at me as though waiting for an eruption of grief.

It didn’t come.

“Willow,” said Sebastian. “Are you alright?”

“I cried my last tear over Ashley a long time ago.” My voice sounded distant, my insides hollow.

“But you’ve got to be feeling something,” said Leopold.

“Numb, mostly,” I replied. “And a bit relieved.”

Leopold wrapped his large hands around my shoulders and fixed me with a concerned, aquamarine gaze. “Really?”

I nodded. “Let’s lock up the cottage and return to the academy.”

The boys continued staring at me until I closed my eyes and heaved out a long sigh. “Maybe it’s a delayed reaction.”

Leopold placed the back of his hand on my temple, as though checking my temperature. “But you’re so calm.”

“Have you ever seen me fall apart?” I asked.

“No, but—”

“Leave her alone.” Sebastian wrapped an arm around my waist. His touch relaxed the band of tension that had wound around my chest and stomach. “Everyone deals with shock differently.”

While Leopold locked up the cottage, Sebastian walked me to the street. The morning sun bathed my skin, and the mingled floral scents of wildflowers from Mrs. Ochill’s garden filled my nostrils, and I turned to find all the neighbors huddled around the old woman’s doorstep, presumably talking about Ashley’s arrest. They turned around to stare, but none of them approached.

Leopold rushed ahead to open the back door. I lowered myself into the leather seat and stared at the house. Uncle Trevor’s words echoed in my skull—preserve the living, not the dead—but they felt now hollow. What more could I have done for Ashley? Most of her grievances were things I couldn’t change.

The memory of a large glass object crashing on my skull replayed itself over and over until I closed my eyes and felt the pain of the heavy blow and remembered the shards tearing through my skin.

Ashley had told me a story about losing a fallopian tube to an ectopic pregnancy. Apparently, she had fallen in love with Mr. Floo, our algebra teacher, who she claimed was more interested in raving about my math skills than in sleeping with her. Then Mom and Dad had uprooted us from London to move to Carlisle. Had that been the source of her hatred of me, or was it something deeper?

“Willow?” Leopold’s voice cut through the fog. From his urgent tone, it wasn’t the first time he’d called my name or even the third.

“Just thinking,” I murmured. “I’m fine.”