I hate it when he does this. When he acts like he's the one in control and I'm his little puppet. It makes me want to smack him across his perfect face. And why does he keep saying I'm like my mom? Because I stand up for myself?
I'm not lying to protect Braden. I don't need Brock's help, or his fancy lawyers. I'm innocent. Not liking Kristen doesn't make me a murderer. The entire school didn't like her.
I still can't believe Kristen is dead. And that her killer is out walking around.
Chapter Three
When I get to my room I turn on the TV. The local news is on. I'm about to switch channels when I see Jackson getting out of the cop car.
Racing up to the TV, I quickly turn up the volume.
"In other news," the lady on TV says, "Jackson Novak, son of acclaimed film director Roman Novak, has been arrested in connection with the death of Kristen Reynolds, daughter of socialite Daphne Reynolds. Reynolds' body was found washed up on the beach behind Novak's residence earlier this morning. Police are ruling it a homicide but won't release details on the cause of death until an autopsy has been performed."
I watch as the police take Jackson into a building. He's staring straight ahead, no expression on his face. Knowing him, it's intentional, meant to hide any signs that might make him look guilty.
The news switches from the news desk to a young reporter with a microphone standing in front of a white mansion lined with manicured shrubs and flowers.
"We're here in front of the Reynolds' mansion," the reporter says, "where Steven Edwards, Daphne Reynolds' husband, will soon be coming out to make a statement. What we know so far is that the Reynolds' girl was at home last night but left sometime before midnight. Edwards claims to have heard noise in the house around that time but assumed it was Kristen getting up to use the bathroom. Now he believes the noise was her leaving the house. He didn't realize she'd left until he received the phone call this morning telling him about her death. Daphne Reynolds was in LA when she received the call. Billionaire media mogul, Thomas Cunning, a friend of the Reynolds' family, offered up his private jet to get Daphne back to La Jolla as quickly as possible."
The reporter turns toward the house, the camera showing the driveway where two police cars are parked, along with a silver Audi and a black Porsche SUV. The Audi must be Principal Edwards' car. I've seen it in the school parking lot.
"It looks like Mr. Edwards is coming out of the house," the reporter says.
The camera shows the front door opening, then Principal Edwards coming out, dressed in black pants and a dark gray shirt, a solemn look on his face.
Reporters from the other news channels rush up around him, shouting questions.
"Mr. Edwards, what time did Kristen leave last night?"
"Do you know if she went directly to the suspect's house?"
"How long had she been seeing Mr. Novak?"
"Had Mr. Novak ever physically harmed Ms. Reynolds in the past?"
The questions keep coming as Principal Edwards slowly walks down the brick walkway in front of the house, cameras following him the entire time.
"Rumor!" Trystan bangs on my door. "Turn on the TV!"
"I'm already watching it!" I yell back.
My door swings open and Trystan races in, standing next to me as we both stare at the TV. "I can't believe she's dead."
"Shut up. I'm trying to hear."
Principal Edwards stops walking and lowers his head. The reporters quiet down. Principal Edwards pauses, then slowly lifts his head. It seems overly dramatic, almost fake. I'm sure he's upset about what happened but his reaction seems over-the-top, like he's doing it on purpose for the cameras.
"It is with great sorrow," he says, "that I stand here today, mourning the death of my dear sweet daughter, Kristen. She brought such a light to this world and will be greatly missed. Her mother and I are in shock as we struggle to understand how anyone could harm our baby girl. She was always so kind, so generous, willing to help anyone in need. To think that someone could take her life, and in such a violent manner, is beyond my comprehension. We ask that you give us privacy in our time of mourning."
He looks at the reporters, as if giving them permission to speak.
"Mr. Edwards, could you tell us any details about what happened?" a reporter asks.
"The police have asked that we not discuss details until further investigation has been done," Principal Edwards says. "But my wife and I are confident that they already have the person who did this in custody."
"Novak is done," Trystan says. "If he did this he—"
"He didn't do it." I shove his shoulder. "Be quiet or get out."
