Chapter 57: SUSPECT X CULPRIT

I blinked, my lips parting slightly as if I was struggling to process the words. My heartbeat picked up—not from fear, but from making sure my reaction was flawless, this wasn't a public school, it was a private school, a prep school and the chances of the murderer being one of the students was high, like real high. Acting like a brat would just get you on the suspect list real quick, and faking a cry —which was my previous plan— practically makes you the culprit. Even I, will think you're the one.

People don't cry over dead people they don't know. You should know that. Instead brat or not, you feel distraught, and scared because someone died in the school your attend, and the murderer could be anyone, anywhere, finding it's next victim.

“M—murder?” I stammered, letting the word settle like it left a bad taste in my mouth. “Like… someone was killed?”

The vice principal shifted in his chair, his mouth opening as if to reassure me, but the older officer cut in smoothly before he could.

“No need to panic, Miss,” he said. “We’re working on it.”

And don't think the cops are your friends, they could give you a lollipop, and a hug and still put a cuff on you.

Even a kid would know that, duh.

He stepped forward, extending a hand. “Detective Harold Mercer. Homicide unit.”

I hesitated just for effect, my fingers tightening around the arms of the chair before I let out a slow breath and reached out, shaking his hand with a deliberately shaky grip.

“Blakely Torres,” I murmured, my voice just a little unsteady. I made sure my eyes stayed wide, like I was still processing the horror of what I had just heard.

A murder? In my school? Am I safe?

The younger officer, who had been jotting something down in his notepad, lifted his gaze and gave me a polite nod before stepping forward as well.

“Detective James Holloway,” he said, his voice a little lighter, less hardened than Mercer’s. “We just need to ask you a few things. Hope that’s okay.”

I swallowed, nodding slowly.

“Yes, of course,” I said, barely above a whisper. “I… I’ll help however I can.”

Mercer wasted no time getting to the point. "Where were you between six and nine PM last night?"

I blinked rapidly, like I was struggling to gather my thoughts. "Uh…" I started, letting my eyes dart between the officers before lowering them, as if the news was so disturbing I couldn’t even think straight.

I exhaled shakily. “After the test… I, um, I went to my car. I was waiting for my sisters—well, Frankie in particular. We had something to talk about.”

I hesitated, my mind stalling at her name. Frankie. Just saying her name brought back last night’s unwanted memory, and I had to mentally shake it off before continuing.

“I didn’t realize when I fell asleep,” I said. “When I woke up, it was around seven… maybe seven-twenty? Frankie’s car wasn’t in sight, so I just left school.” I Rubbed my temple as if trying to remember the time. "The security saw me drive out"

Detective Harold tilted his head. “So all of this happened between six and nine?”

I quickly shook my head. “Oh! no, no. After I left, I stopped by at a friend’s.”

Detective James straightened a bit, readying his notepad. “Can your alibi confirm that?”

I nodded, already unlocking my phone like I had nothing to hide. “She’s like a mother to me,” I said while scrolling through my contacts, fingers moving just a little faster than necessary. “Uh… her name’s Tabitha. She owns Platinum—Platinum 88. Right. Here’s her number if you want.”

I turned my phone to show them Tabitha’s contact, saved as Tabitha with a couple of heart emojis beside it.

Harold glanced at James before shaking his head. “That won’t be necessary.”

“Oh,” I murmured, locking my phone and placing it face down on my lap.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small photo, sliding it across the desk toward me. “Do you know who this is?”

I glanced down. It was Heather. Pink dress, staring at a rack of clothes in what looked like a mall.

I stared for a second, then shook my head. “I don’t think so,” I said, my brows pulling together just enough to look like I was trying to place her. “I’ve met a lot of people, might not remember all of them, but… no, I don’t think I have seen her.”

Harold studied me for a beat before nodding. He slid the picture back into his pocket and exchanged a brief look with his partner, who then set his notepad on the desk in front of me.

“Your contact,” James said.

I nodded and picked up the pen, carefully writing down my number.

James took the notepad, he wrote something on it and tore out the page, he tucking the notepad away before handing me the piece of paper.

“If you notice or remember anything that might be of help please don't hesitate to call. We’ll be in touch then, have a good day” Harold said, giving me a small nod.

“Of course, thank you” I replied softly.

They thanked the vice principal, and then turned toward the door.

I nodded as they left, my fingers curling slightly against my lap as I listened to their footsteps disappear down the hall.

The vice principal exhaled through his nose before turning back to me. “You can go now,” he said. “If you notice anything suspicious from anyone, report it to me before anyone else.”

I nodded, standing up.

“And…,” he added. “This news doesn’t leave the school premises. We don’t want parents panicking.”

I met his gaze.

“Understood sir.”

I walked out of the office, not looking back. I kept going, like nothing was wrong—like I hadn’t just been questioned by the cops. And I didn’t stop until I was downstairs, standing in front of my locker.

I exhaled, my fingers tightening around the cold metal for a second before I punched in the code, and grabbed my bag.