No Way Out
Maya
Date: Monday, June 8th
Time: 5:36 AM
Location: Solana Ridge, California
I woke up to a blood-curdling scream.
Leo’s scream.
I rushed out of my tent into the cold morning air.
“Leo, what happ—” The words die in my throat as I stare at the scene in front of me.
NO.
This can’t be happening.
This isn’t real.
I stare at her pale skin, her unmoving body.
I don’t register it.
I don’t register the red line on her neck, the knife on the damp tent floor, or the red liquid pooling at my feet.
I can’t think. I can’t breathe. My body just moves, needing my childhood best friend to be alive. My hands are shaking against her pale skin as I check her pulse.
Dead.
She is dead.
Every second I look at her feels like a million years.
Someone killed her.
And suddenly, the realization hits me.
“Nobody move.” My voice breaks a little as I scan the group behind me.
I can’t believe it.
I refuse to believe it.
But it’s real.
“There’s no pulse, and we’re the only ones up here.” My heart feels heavy and empty at the same time.
I turn to look at her body
“Whoever did this will pay,” I promise, holding her cold, lifeless hand.
Tears blur my vision as I recover from my shock.
But I made a promise.
And I would keep it.
I stand up straight, looking them in the eyes—knowing that somebody here, someone who I call my family, is the killer.
I can’t tell who it was.
Not yet.
They were in shock. We all were.
But their eyes betrayed them.
Betrayed their guilt.
I didn’t know who exactly the killer was. But I would find out.
And once I did, best friends or not, they would pay.
They would pay in blood.
JOSHUA
Date: Tuesday, June 9th
Time: 1:58 PM
Location: Solana Ridge, California
I stare at the clean double-sided mirror, still trying to register the past few hours.
I am spiraling.
Who killed Andrea?
How could she have made me believe that I killed someone for three years?
How could the same family she would have given her life for kill her?
Who sent the evidence of—
“Good afternoon, Mr. Sinclair.” The officer’s deep voice zaps me back to reality.
He’s in his late thirties with sharp eyes, a crisp black suit, perfect hair, and a five o’clock shadow making him appear even more intimidating as he writes something on his black clipboard.
“Good afternoon, sir,” I respond as I survey the room. It is spotless, with a tiny square metal table that reflects the fluorescent lights overhead and an A/C cracked down so low it gives me goosebumps.
“I’m Officer Hayes and I’m here to question you on your involvement in the death of Andrea Vance. This conversation will be recorded for legal purposes. You do not have to answer all the questions and you are free to leave anytime you wish, but once you do, you will not get this opportunity again. Do you understand?” He asks me, pinning me down with his emerald green eyes.
We had already made a plan.
Don’t tell the cops anything. They’ll prosecute you with your own words.
Connor’s voice plays in my mind.
But should I listen?
Would I be safer keeping my mouth shut or answering the questions?
Stop it, Joshua. Panicking isn’t going to get you anywhere.
I take a deep breath, making my decision.
“Yes, I understand,” I say, meeting his gaze. “But I have nothing to say about this situation. I would like to leave.”
There’s no going back now.
He sighs like he was expecting this. He probably was, considering neither of us gave him anything to work with up until now.
“I could protect you in court if you answer the questions,” he says, trying to persuade me to speak.
But we both know it’s useless.
This isn’t my first rodeo.
“I would like to leave,” I answer, my tone leaving no room for argument.
I exit the interrogation room, flashing a small smile at Sophie and Alex, who are still waiting for their turn.
“Sophie Keller, please proceed to room number thirteen,” Officer Hayes calls out.
She smiles back before disappearing into the interrogation room.
But will she and Alex follow the plan?
***
We regroup at Central Park at sunset. The sky is painted red and pink by the setting sun. Just about twenty-four hours ago, a pair of hazel eyes closed for the last time.
“Has everyone stuck to the plan?” Sophie asks. If I didn’t know better, I’d say she was just suspicious, but I do know better and I know that she is terrified.
“Maybe you should answer that yourself and explain what you were doing in the station for ten minutes,” Alex snaps at her with a look of pure hatred.
Wait.
Ten minutes?
What the hell, Sophie?
“I don’t need to explain myself to you,” she snaps back, crossing her arms defensively.
“How convenient,” Alex mutters under his breath.
They’ve been at each other’s throats since Sophie accused Alex of the murder. I wouldn’t blame her, though. It was his knife that killed her. But Alex does have a point here.
What was she doing?
Did she confess?
Or frame us?
“Guys, quit it,” Maya intervenes, cutting my trail of thoughts.
“Let’s rest today. We can meet tomorrow at my place. Be there at eleven,” Leo suggests, changing the topic. “We need to figure out what to do.”
And find the killer.
The unspoken words hang in the air like a ticking time bomb. A bomb that’s going to explode tomorrow.
We all agree to meet anyway. The conversation is going to happen sooner or later.
***
I walk home, my mind racing with the past twenty-four hours. My parents wouldn’t care about this. They stopped caring the moment I turned eighteen.
What will you do, Joshua?
It’s the same question I ask myself every day.
You will survive.
Just like you have for the past six months.
One day at a time.
