Page 77 of Twisted Elites

Mr. Pinkerton shook his head. “I’m not saying it won’t be helpful in a court of law—”

“This case can’t go to trial,” said Sebastian. “Kash didn’t kill Corrine.”

Mr. Pinkerton leaned back in his seat. “The CPS has no faith in Mr. Kashaayah’s alibi for the day she died.”

“We were in the hideout,” Leopold said.

“That’s the point,” said the lawyer. “A treehouse hidden to the world. There is no CCTV anywhere on that stretch of road to corroborate your whereabouts, no mobile phone records to prove your location, and no witnesses other than Mr. Kashaayah’s closest friends.”

I shook my head. The Crown Prosecution Service was bullshit. Using that logic, a husband sleeping with his wife at night didn’t count as an alibi because she was his closest companion, and there wasn’t an impartial enough third party standing over the bed to confirm his location.

“And there’s another thing,” added Mr. Pinkerton.

I held my breath and clenched my teeth. Leopold’s hand squeezed mine, and Sebastian looked like he was going to be sick.

“The day after Miss Evergreen was abducted and dumped in the cave, the police made a more thorough search of the surroundings. They found items that belonged to Mr. Kashaayah.”

“Like what?” Sebastian groaned.

“A mobile phone, Kashaayah-branded teabags, and pens with his fingerprints.”

“How do they know it didn’t fall out of my pocket?” I blurted.

Mr. Pinkerton fixed me with an incredulous look. “Did Mr. Kashaayah lend you these items?”

“I had tea in his room all the time and sat next to him in classes. But Corrine was also in love with him, and they’d had a relationship. She might have chosen to die with those items around her.”

“Like a shrine to their love,” said Leopold.

Sebastian frowned but didn’t speak. I hoped he wasn’t losing faith with Prakash. The legal fees had to be mounting high, and neither Leopold nor I had the means to pay Mr. Pinkerton if Sebastian decided to give up.

“Can’t the Crown Prosecution Service translate the diary themselves?” I asked.

“It’s doubtful, especially since they’re looking to secure Mr. Kashaayah’s conviction for murder.”

Leopold slammed a fist on the table, making everyone jump. “I don’t get why they suddenly think Corrine was murdered, and Kash was the killer.”

Mr. Pinkerton turned his gaze to me. “It’s because of you, Miss Evergreen.”

Mouth gaping open, I reared back. “But…” My next word was a croak because I hadn’t told the police anything incriminating about Prakash. “What?”

“Everything that happened to you mirrors what happened to Corrine.”

My mouth opened and closed. Hadn’t Cormac said something similar last term? So much had happened since then that I’d forgotten the day he’d told me the police had reopened Corrine’s case.

“What are you saying?” asked Leopold. “That Kash wanted to kill Willow? He’s crazy about her.”

“Whoever attacked you on all those occasions you reported to the police mirrored Corrine’s death,” said Rupert. “There’s a scene in the diary where some girls pushed her down the stairs. It’s exactly what you reported to the police.”

Mr. Pinkerton’s eyes softened. “The CPS believe you’re the victim of a copycat.”

“Then they should arrest the girls, not an innocent boy who has done nothing to hurt me!”

The lawyer shrugged. “One of my assistants pieced together all the evidence we could gather to implicate Bianca Byrd. It was enough for the police to visit her hospital bed, but they also believe that whoever murdered Corrine also attacked her.”

The rest of the conversation went round in circles. Mr. Pinkerton wanted to contact Prakash’s parents for the trial, but Sebastian refused because they would disinherit Prakash whether he was found guilty or innocent. I shook my head. To me, the evidence proving that Prakash was the murderer was flimsy and circumstantial, but I knew nothing about the law outside the shows I’d watched with Mom.

A sigh slid from my lips. I’d thought that by now, Uncle Trevor or Aunt Hortense would have called to ask why I had allowed Ashley to get arrested, but they were either too busy or too angry about her predicament. I turned back to the conversation.