Prologue
Eloise
* * *
“That is not mine.” I’m shaking as I stare at the bag of white powder Officer Larkin dropped on the desk in front of me. I don’t even know what the substance could be because I’ve never had any experience with drugs in my life. Cocaine? Crack? Is crack a white powder? Meth? I think that’s a liquid.
Larkin smirks. “Try again. I asked you where you got it.”
I sit back in my chair and cross my arms. Larkin is the high school officer. He patrols the hallways and parking lot. He’s a dick on a good day. None of the students like him.
I’ve only been at this particular high school for six months, but I quickly learned to steer clear of this man. No one needed to warn me. I figured that out for myself on day one. When I entered the building, he noticeably sized me up from head to toe, lingering far too long on my breasts.
He’s a lascivious fucking prick. He makes my skin crawl. When I see him in the halls, I turn and walk the other direction. I’ve even caught him lurking outside the girls’ bathrooms when I come out. I’ve prayed it’s all in my head.
But here we are.
I won’t let him see me weak. “Mr. Larkin, I’m telling you I’ve never seen that before. I don’t have a clue what that powder even is.”
He laughs at me. “That’s rich coming from you, Ms. Brighton. You’re not exactly the poster girl for sweet and innocent.”
I flinch. “What’s that supposed to mean?” Fuck. You.
He’s standing behind the desk in his small office. He made me sit, but he’s still on his feet, which I’m certain is intentional to make him seem intimidating. It’s working.
His chuckle is evil as he sets his hands on the top of the desk and leans toward me. “How many foster homes have you been in, Eloise?”
“What does that have to do with anything?” My heart rate has picked up. I’m fucking nervous. I don’t like the vibe in this room, which probably used to be a supply closet until they hired an on-site officer.
My hackles are on edge at his implication. The fact that I’ve been moved around to different foster families more times than I care to admit has absolutely nothing to do with me. Never once have I been in any kind of trouble.
He glances at an open manila folder in front of him. “You’ve been with five families since you started high school. Lord knows how many families couldn’t tolerate your behavioral problems when you were in elementary.”
My breath hitches. I’ve never had behavioral problems. Not once. He didn’t read that in any file unless someone planted it there. I glance at the mysterious bag of white powder. Speaking of planted…
But why would someone do this to me? Who?
I purse my lips. Anything I say is simply going to egg Larkin on.
“Seems to me you have a problem, Eloise.” He leans back, crosses his arms, and smirks yet again.
I stare at him, trying not to let him see my fear. He’s baiting me. Someone told him lies about me. Someone put false information in my folder. And someone planted whatever that shit is in my locker.
I’m fucked.
Before he called me in here, I sat outside his office for over an hour. He stopped me in the hallway after the last bell and ordered me to wait for him. And then the man disappeared. He was probably on duty outside dealing with dismissal, and I’d begun to think he’d forgotten me when he finally showed up.
He eyed me with a narrowed glare as he marched past me, holding out a finger. “I’ll be with you soon. Don’t move.” And then he went into his office and shut the door.
I should have run away. But how much trouble would I be in if I’d done that?
Larkin rounds the desk and leans against the corner, far too close to me. His knee grazes mine as he crosses his ankles. “I’m a contracted officer, Eloise. Do you know what that means?”
“No.” I can’t bring myself to call him sir. He’s an asshole and doesn’t deserve my respect.
“It means until I report you to the station, there is no record of your crime.”
I cringe. “I didn’t commit a crime.”
