Aven pointed at one of the screens. “Start with the back entrance.”
The movement brought her face close to mine. I nodded and keyed in the date and time range. The footage played, showing an empty parking lot in the early morning hours.
Aven’s hand landed on my forearm. “Over by the dumpster.”
I paused the footage and zoomed in. “This angle is shit. Honestly, could be anyone.”
“Ugh! Rewind it a bit. Can you tell where they came from?”
“It looks like they came around from the front.” I stopped the frame as the person entered from the side of the building.
Aven squinted. “Can you enhance it? Maybe catch a reflection in the car window?”
“You’re going to drive yourself crazy. You haven’t received any more cranes, and Mrs. Patrice told you it was her. If it happens again, I will pursue that mother fucker ten toes down.
“You’re right. I’m sorry,” she murmured.
“It’s fine. Hey, do you remember this?” I commented, pulling Facepage up on my phone. I wanted to get her mind off the stalker shit.
She settled closer as we stared at the screen.
“Aww! It’s the community center where they held the graduation party, right?” she replied.
“Yeah.” I laughed. “Oh shit. It looks like someone added a video since I last looked at the school Facepage.”
The footage filled the screen, showing the community center’s main room packed with graduating seniors. The camera angle captured most of the space, including the dance floor and drinks table.
“There you are in your silver dress.”
Aven smiled. “Damn, it seems like so long ago.”
We watched a while longer, then we spotted another file from the previous week.
“Click it,” she said.
I did, and another video popped up that was unmistakably me, seventeen-year-old Langston Black. I had climbed through a window, looking drunk and miserable but very much present at the time when I was supposedly with Aven across town. We watched a little longer, and I staggered to the bleachers where I passed out.
The air left the room. Aven paused the frame, her finger trembling as she pointed at teenage me on the screen.
“You were sleeping at the community center? You had proof you were innocent,” she whispered, her voice tight with confusion.
I stood abruptly, needing space to breathe through the pressure building in my chest. “It’s not what you think.”
“Really? Because what I think is you let me lie to the police for you when you knew there was video evidence that would’ve cleared your name.”
“It wasn’t that simple.”
“Seems pretty fucking simple to me! You were not anywhere near the hardware store. You could have proven that!” Her voice rose, echoing in the small room.
I ran my hands through my beard, trying to pace the narrow space between the monitors and the wall. Fifteen years of carefully constructed walls were crumbling, and I didn’t know how to stop it, nor did I know if I even wanted to anymore.
“I didn’t know the community center had cameras. By the time I figured it out, you’d already given me an alibi,” I explained.
“So what? When you found out, you could have come forward and shown this! Instead, you let everyone in town think you might have done it. You let me put my reputation on the line for you!” She gestured angrily at the phone where my teenage self stood frozen in time.
Her palm slammed against the desk in the confined space. The action was so unlike a composed Aven. It momentarily stunned us both.
“Why would you let me lie for you when you could have cleared yourself?” she demanded, anger and hurt in her eyes.
