Total pages in book: 152
Estimated words: 147545 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 738(@200wpm)___ 590(@250wpm)___ 492(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 147545 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 738(@200wpm)___ 590(@250wpm)___ 492(@300wpm)
CHAPTER 7
CASSIE
When the meeting is over, I go back out to the reception area, my stomach in knots.
I’m relieved when I don’t see Tor’s parents waiting anymore, but the relief hits like a drop of rain when you’re already chest-deep in the ocean.
“We need to talk,” I say to Tor.
He nods, watching my face. I’m sure he’s curious how the meeting went, but he doesn’t ask. Instead, he leads me wordlessly out of the office, down the elevator, and across the parking lot. He doesn’t speak until we’re in the privacy of his car.
“What did he say?” Tor finally asks. He’s turned to look at me, the car engine still off.
I look over at him, the weight on my chest like a boulder. “I don’t think you should help me anymore.”
He scowls. “Why?”
“Did you know that if I end up going down for this, you could face the same sentence as me?”
“Yeah.”
My eyes widen. “Life in prison. You could spend the rest of your life in prison for helping me cover this up.”
“Yeah, I know. I had the first appointment, remember?”
“How does that not scare you?” I demand, my voice rising slightly. “Are you crazy?”
He smirks. “I mean, maybe. But I’m not going to spend the rest of my life in prison, and neither are you. That’s the worst-case scenario of what happens if we can’t get out of it, and that’s not going to happen.”
“You can’t know that! You’re literally gambling with the rest of your life, Tor.”
Shrugging, he says, “Go big or go home, right?”
“Why would you do this for me?” I ask, dumbfounded.
“I already told you,” he says. “And besides, it’s done. I’ve already made myself your alibi, so there’s no walking it back.”
“That’s not true. The lawyer said if you come clean now—”
“Cassie,” he interrupts, shaking his head. “Stop. It’s done. I told you, the way we get through this is by sticking together. As long as we do that, we’ll both be fine. You didn’t say any of this shit to the lawyer, right?”
“No,” I murmur.
“Good.” He shifts in his seat, facing forward as he fires up the engine. “Now, I don’t want to hear any more doubts. Our course is set. All we have to do is keep on it.”
“I just… I don’t understand how you’re so confident when the stakes are this high. There is evidence that I did this, and they could find it, and what happens then?”
“I have the majority of the evidence, remember?”
“And I’m not a good liar,” I burst out. “I had to lie so much to that lawyer, I thought I was going to combust, but if I have to do that on a witness stand?”
“It won’t get that far, and if it does, we’ll prepare you.”
“He said we shouldn’t talk about the facts of the case.”
“Well, sure. Maybe if they were facts, but since everything we said is bullshit…” He glances over at me as the car slows and he flicks on his turn signal. “I actually have an idea about that, but it’s pretty fucked up.”
“Everything about this is fucked up,” I mutter. “What’s the idea?”
“I think we should go through the motions of that night—the version of the story we’re telling, not what actually happened. That way, if you do end up having to testify, you can draw on your real memory. There are tells when people are remembering something that happened versus something they’re making up. I don’t know how well-trained the Holbrook police are in deception, but in the interest of keeping ourselves out of jail, I vote we prepare for everything like we’re going up against the best of the best. If we redo that night, next time someone asks you a detail, you can remember it as it actually happened—on a different night, but no one will know that.”
I stare at him. “How do you know all this?”
He shrugs. “My dad has a vast library, and I’m a fast reader.”
“I didn’t even know you read books that weren’t assigned.”
His lips tug up, and he glances over at me, eyes glinting. “I’d wager there’s a lot about me you don’t know.”
For some reason, his words cause heat to crawl up my neck and suffuse my face. I look away, shifting my gaze to the road as he pulls out of the parking lot.
After a few seconds, he says, “If I’m taking you home, I need to take a left up here.”
I bite my lip, dread filling me.
“Of course,” he drawls, “we could go straight.”
“I’d like to go straight.”
“Okay,” he says, and the dread eases. “You better text your mom, though. I told her I’d bring you home soon, and I’m guessing you didn’t tell her you don’t have your phone.”
My heart leaps to my throat. “Oh crap.” I open my purse and dig out my new phone. “You’re right. I didn’t.”