“Scarlette, you don’t want to do this,” I begged.
“Of course, I don’t want to do this, Eve. Don’t you get it? It wasn’t supposed to happen this way. I was supposed to get the part. And no one would have gotten hurt if I had.”
“Y-you killed Cheryl?” I questioned, wanting to keep her talking while I slipped a hand into the side pocket of my backpack, searching for something I could use to defend myself.
She shook her head, frustrated with me. “You don’t understand. It was my last chance. I needed that part, Eve. I couldn’t afford to stay in the city with the ensemble cast pay rate. I couldn’t leave when my dream was right within my grasp. Besides, Cheryl was a bitch. She gave me the perfect opportunity that day. I pretended to cry and left the rehearsal room. I had plenty of time to switch out the salad dressing. She made it so easy for me to snatch her Epi-pen and her phone from her bag when she shoved it into my hands so she could get her salad out of the fridge. The salad that would kill her. I did you all a favor. You know as well as I do that no one on the cast missed her after she died.”
“But you were so upset. You cried on my shoulder.”
My hand fished around in my pocket, grazing the small plastic canister I’d been searching for.
She laughed humorlessly. “I’m an actress, Eve. I can squeeze out a few tears when necessary.”
“But Nick?Why Nick?”
“Isn’t it obvious? Nick figured it out. He wrote me that note and threatened to expose me as the murderer if I didn’t give him what he wanted. I didn’t have the money to pay him off. The blackout gave me an advantage I might not have had otherwise. Sheer luck. And I don’t think he believed I had it in me to do anything to him. But he underestimated what I’d do to stay here. What I’ve had to do to survive. To get here and do what I was born to do. I play the innocent part so well, none of you even suspected me.”
“ButI—I saw you leave the studio that day.”
I’d seen her going out of the main entrance to catch the bus when I was waiting for Ben that day. I’d waved goodbye, and I’d told the police as much when they’d questioned me that night.
“Thanks to that little alibi you gave the detectives, I was hardly questioned for Nick’s murder. I did leave the building, but you were more than a little preoccupied with giving your boyfriend a tour. It’s not much of a surprise that you didn’t see me come back in once the atrium was empty.”
I wrapped my fingers around the canister. “But you framed Derek. Why?”
She shrugged, as if it was no big deal. Something she’d done without a single thought.
“He seemed like a good scapegoat, someone with every reason to hate Cheryl. Derek had told me himself that she threatened him and Warren. And then he got into that fight with Nick. I needed to get rid of that murder weapon and get the prying eyes of the detectives off me for good. I was the one who stood to gain something from Cheryl’s death. I remembered Warren announcing to the entire room while Michelle tried to save Cheryl that Derek always kept his locker open. So, I slipped it inside his locker and snuck out the emergency exit in the back before the lights came back on.”
I heard the thud of a hand against the locker room door. My heart leapt into my throat as I heard Ben call out.
“Eve? Are you still in here?”
¡Mierda! Now or never.
I pulled the small canister out of my bag as Scarlette’s attention was drawn to Ben pushing the door open, swiftly placing my thumb on the actuator. I aimed the pepper spray at Scarlette’s eyes, causing her to stumble backwards, the gun going off as she fell.
The sudden flash and bang were followed by her yelp of pain. She hadn’t expected the kickback of the pistol.
I took advantage of Scarlette’s shock, moving towards her, blinking my eyes against the sting of the pepper spray lingering in the air. I ignored the bitter taste on my tongue, quickly securing the gun, engaging the safety and pointing it towards the floor.I’d never been more grateful for my father teaching us all how to handle a gun.
Scarlette writhed on the floor, clasping her hands to her chest. I stood over her, making sure she stayed down.
“Ben?” I called towards the doorway, not willing to take my eyes off Scarlette. “Are you okay?”
“Yes?” It sounded more like a question than an answer. “What the fuck?”
“It’s okay. She’s not armed anymore. Are you hurt?”
“No,” he said, his voice hoarse. I tore my gaze away for a split second to make sure. He stood there, face devoid of color, shock etched into his features as he stared at the gun in my hands. He wasn’t bleeding, so the bullet was likely lodged into the wall somewhere.
Gracias a Dios.
“You think you can call the police? I’m a little busy over here, holding the murderer at gunpoint.”
“What the hell happened?”
“It was Scarlette. She—she killed Cheryl and Nick. She dropped her things, and I saw—” I cut off my explanation, my heart still beating out of my chest. “It doesn’t matter. I’ll explain later. Would you just call the cops?”
