"Of course, " Brooke murmured, not meeting Rowan’s probing gaze.
An awkward silence descended. Whitney’s anxious foot-tapping accelerated.
"Have any of you seen Mia's camera?" I asked.
All eyes turned to me, questioning, curious. They shook their heads.
“I haven't," Rowan said, "and the police did a most thorough search of our house. Why do you ask?"
I shrugged and tried to appear nonchalant, though my heart was racing. "Mia seems to have misplaced it, I guess." Though I wasn't sure I believed that.
Rowan's phone dinged on the counter. She pushed back her chair, rose, and went to the counter, then frowned down at the screen. "It's Camille. She says to turn on the news right now. It's about Leah."
We rose hurriedly and moved to the living room. Rowan commanded the TV to switch on, her voice tight. "Turn to the local news."
Detective King filled the screen as he stood at a podium, surrounded by several detectives and officers, including Detective Callahan and the police chief. His expression was grave.
Cameras flashed in his face as he spoke. "Leah Cho's death has been ruled a homicide. We are asking anyone with information relating to this case to please contact the St. Joseph Police Department immediately."
No one moved. No one spoke.
Whitney's face went bone white. Her water bottle slipped from her hand and hit the floor with a dull thud. She didn't seem to notice. "Homicide?"
Brooke's glass trembled in her hand. "They think someone… " Her voice came out strangled. "They think someone did this?"
The room contracted around me. I couldn't get enough oxygen. For two days, I'd been waiting for the announcement that the police had determined that Leah's death was a tragic accident. Case closed. We could all grieve and move on.
Not anymore.
My chest tightened until I couldn't draw a full breath.
Brooke looked at Rowan, appalled. "They think someone killed Leah."
"Yes," I said, my voice sounding distant, strangely alien. I recalledwhat Zara had said about finding Leah on the bluff, her broken body. "She didn't fall. She was pushed."
"That's not possible," Whitney said shakily. "Who would do that?"
Brooke lifted her glass with both hands and drained it in one long swallow. "What does this mean for us? For our girls?"
"It means they're going to ask more questions," Rowan said. "They're going to look more closely at everyone who was there that night. Our girls have nothing to hide. They were sleeping. They saw nothing."
"Then what happened?" Brooke's voice rose with barely contained panic. "Who killed Leah?"
The silence that followed felt different from before. Thicker, heavier, weighted with apprehension and foreboding. I waited for someone to say something about the evidence the police had already collected.
No one did.
No one mentioned Mia's scratches. The torn dress. The missing camera.
"The detectives will find the culprit," Rowan said calmly. "We just have to trust them to do their jobs."
Whitney sucked in a sharp breath. "Peyton's going to hear about this. Everyone's going to hear about it. She'll be absolutely gutted."
Brooke looked at Rowan, her eyes wide with alarm. Her words were slurred. "What do we do?"
Rowan squeezed Brooke's hand. "Our job is to support our daughters. None of them had anything to do with this."
Footsteps sounded on the stairs. Chloe appeared at the bottom, barefoot and wearing a long white nightgown. Her face was blotchy, her blue eyes red-rimmed. She looked small and breakable. "Mom?"
