A different officer wanted to speak to me this time, a detective, and he gave me his condolences on the loss of my friend. He was friendly as well, but there was a wolfish quality droning right below the surface. My heart thudded; I blinked hard, trying to clear my fuzzy mind.
“We’ve been in touch with the Los Angeles police,” he announced. “And we don’t want to jump to any conclusions. But it seems that Miss Czarnecki matches the description of a suspect in an April slaying in South America.”
He tapped a few things on his phone, then turned it to me: the police sketch, carefully penciled in, like the ones on TV. God, they’d nailed it, wise feline eyes and all.
“We ran her passport. She was in Chile with you in April, correct?”
Damn, that was fast. “Yes.”
He put his phone away. “We know Miss Czarnecki flew into Phoenix separately. On a flight she booked last-minute. And several witnesses at the hotel saw the two of you fighting in the lobby right before her death. So let’s go over the details together one more time. Since this isn’t as cut-and-dry as we thought.”
Suddenly it was blindingly clear, as bright as fresh mint, as crystalline and cold as a laser-cut diamond: They thought Aaron and I had killed Kristen to shut her up. God, now that I thought about it, every detail pointed that way—the evidence she’d cached linking me to the crimes in Chile and Cambodia, all her vaguely threatening texts, the way she plummeted to her death less than an hour after the sketch was released…
And no one had been there to see it. No one knew she shoved me into traffic first—that Aaron swerved not to hit Kristen but to avoid hitting me. All my insides contracted and a retch shot up my throat.
“We got investigators on the scene right away,” he went on. “They’ll be looking into the tire marks, the crash site, all that stuff too. And forensics will be taking a very close look at Miss Czarnecki as well—dirt under her fingernails, that kind of thing.”
He took a sip of coffee. I reached for the water in front of me and then went cold all over. The detective saw it too: a patch of purply bruises on my forearm, clustered like a bunch of grapes. And scratches, too, angry red stripes, lined up like stretch marks. Battle wounds where Kristen had grabbed me as she clawed her way up the cliff.
And then I touched the flimsy cup and the last piece thunked into place. I’d pressed my mouth to a cup here yesterday, too, left behind wet pieces of my DNA.
Dirt under her fingernails. Or skin cells. Irrefutable proof that there’d been a struggle before Kristen plunged to her death.
“Am I under arrest?” I asked, my voice strangled.
The detective leaned back, eyebrows high. “Nope. This is just a friendly chat.”
“Then I’d like to go now.” I pulled my hand back. “Please.”
We stared at each other, each locked in a frigid glare.
Finally, he shrugged. “Of course. We can have someone give you a lift to your hotel.”
“I’d like to go to the hospital, please.” When he didn’t say anything: “Aaron’s parents are waiting for me there.”
“Sure thing. Maybe I’ll see you there later.” He braced his beefy hand against the table to push back his chair. “We have some questions for Mr. Meuleman too.”
CHAPTER 45
Aaron looked clear-eyed today, more focused and alert. My heart twisted at the sight of him; I feared it was the last time he’d look at me like that, his expression warm and brimming with love. His parents gave me hugs （they were huggers!）， and I tried to seem casual as I requested a few minutes alone with their son.
When they’d closed the door behind them, I glanced around—no cameras, at least none that I could see. I’d keep my voice low and hope for the best.
“Aaron, I need to tell you the truth,” I murmured. “It won’t be easy, but I need you to hear it from me first.”
“What is it?” He stared at me, his eyes so full of concern that I thought I might disintegrate like a shooting star, which, after all, is just a lowly meteor that lost its way, burning up as it plunges into the atmosphere.
My throat tightened. I took a deep breath and braced myself.
And I finally, finally told the man I loved the truth.
It wasn’t hard, once I got going. I started with Cambodia—how Kristen had felled Sebastian with a lamp, kicked his head into the bed frame while I howled for her to stop. How, afterward, I’d wanted to call the police, but she’d threatened me, too, forced me to clean up the hotel room, to help her dump his body over the ledge like a coin into a well.
How she’d manipulated me in the weeks that followed, nursing me from afar, convincing me we’d made the right call. Talked me into giving her another chance with a week in Chile, one where everything seemed normal again until that final night, when I came upon her and Paolo’s body, and again, she forced me to abet her horrible cover-up. Since then I’d tried to cut her out of my life, but she kept upping the pressure. And then she tried to kill me. She nearly killed Aaron too.
“Listen,” I concluded, my voice an urgent whisper, “we’re in trouble. They think we killed her on purpose to shut her up—and they don’t even know how bad it is, yet. Everything linking me to the two backpackers.” I shook my head. “I’m so sorry I dragged you into this, Aaron. There aren’t words for how sorry I am. But they think we were trying to keep her from talking. No one else saw what happened yesterday; no one knows you were just trying not to hit me.”
He looked shell-shocked, his one exposed eye as wide as a sand dollar.
I touched his cheek. “Aaron, it’s okay. I won’t let you go down for this. You’re there for me in a way Kristen never was—God, it’s like the wool’s been pulled from my eyes. All this time, I’ve been hesitating and holding back and doing whatever she told me, but that’s over. I’m done.”
“What are you—？”
“I’m going to tell them everything.” I squeezed my eyes shut. “I knew it was wrong to hide those bodies, but I let Kristen convince me to do it. I’m done lying and I can’t be the reason your life is ruined. So when the cops show up and ask you what happened, tell them the truth. Because I’m going to tell them the whole story, all the crazy twists and turns that brought us here. It’s time for me to take responsibility. I—I love you, Aaron.”
His face opened up. “I love you too, Emily.” He batted his hand around for mine, and I grabbed it. “You can’t…I can’t lose you. Those other backpackers—I believe you; I know that was Kristen, but what if the cops don’t? What if they…” He was crying, tears sliding over the bulges and bruises.
“Shh, it’s okay.” I leaned down and kissed him. “It’s really okay. I won’t let them charge you. It’s time for me to come clean.”
He sniffled. “Emily, you have to talk to a lawyer. Please, please do that for me. My uncle’s a lawyer, he’s a good guy. He’ll help you find someone. I’m begging you.”
I hesitated. I just wanted this to be over. I was so tired of running.
“Promise me.” His hand gripped mine with surprising strength. “I won’t say a word until then. I’m serious. I love you. If you care about me at all, you’ll do this for me.”