“Scarlett, I’m not behindanyof this!” she snaps. For a moment, I can see behind her mask—the panic, the awareness that this is the end—but quickly, she collects herself. “Look, I’m sure that there’s an explanation for all of it, okay? Let’s find Quentin, and—”
“Celeste, I’m only here because I wanted to give you the opportunity to come clean. But I’ve already called the police, and they’re on their way here.”
“The police? What—”
With a shake of my head, I turn around and start to walk.
“Scarlett, wait. Wait!”
When I turn back to her, she’s breathing hard. “Let’s just sit down and talk, okay?”
I observe her. She can’t possibly think I’m stupid enough to stay here any longer. “You need time to get to your weapon so you can kill me, too?”
“Kill— Scarlett! You’re like a daughter to me. I would never,neverhurt you.”
“But you’re okayframingme?”
“No, I—”
“But you did. You used my laptop to post that Reddit, you ordered the flowers in my name, you even forged my signature.”
“Because I knew the police would never suspect you! Your dad was a cop, and everyone in town loves you.” Her eyes are desperate. “I knew they would exclude you immediately, but then Grayhadtoget involved, and thatidiotcousin of his sent you the cat toy. I hadnothingto do with that, Scarlett. I swear, I would have never… I did all of this for you, too, Scarlett. For us, for Booked It! We needed new listeners—we neededsomething, or we would have lost our jobs. Our whole lives.”
I grimace, wondering if she can read the disappointment on my face. The disgust.
“Please, let’s just sit down and—”
I turn on my heels and walk away.
“Wait! Rafael!”
I turn around.
She swallows, dabbing at the sweat on her forehead. “He showed up here. He was on to me, so I had to… I…”
Dread coils in my stomach, so sudden I feel the drop. I can’t tell if she’s being honest, but that would explain why he didn’t answer my calls. Could it… could she…
“We need to do something about him, Scarlett. I need your help.”
She’s lying. She must be. But I can’t walk away if there’sanychance he could be hurt.
When her eyes dart to the right, so do mine, and I see dark shoes sticking out from beside the desk. I can’t know for sure, but I imagine that’s how being struck by lightning must feel.
“Rafael!” I cry out, my voice sharp, as I move to him.
“I had to… I had to. You understand, right?”
Celeste’s voice is high-pitched, trembling with desperation, and when I turn around, I see she’s now holding a gun. My eyes dart to Rafael, lying on the floor motionless. Blood spreads beneath him, and he’s unnervingly still, as if he’s asleep.
She shot him. She shot Rafael.
My hands shake violently as I reach out to touch him, my breath coming in shallow, frantic gasps. The sight of the dark, sticky pool beneath him makes my stomach churn as I struggle to find the source of the injury, my fingers fumbling over his body.
“Rafael!” I call, my voice cracking with fear. “Rafael, please…”
Celeste’s voice cuts through the haze, cold and rational now. “He figured it out, and he was going to the police. Something about my perfume… how he smelled it on Quentin when they hugged goodbye or something. But I need to protect the podcast, right? Tell me you get it.”
“Y-you shot him,” I stammer.
