King hesitated. "She was bleeding heavily from the blow to her head. Brain swelling would have begun immediately. It was a catastrophic injury. However, if emergency medical services had reached her within the first hour, she probably would have survived. We can't say with absolute certainty, but her chances would have been significantly improved."
Beside me, Mia made a sound. Not a sob. Something lower, primitive, torn from her throat. The hair on my arms stood up.
"I didn't know," Mia said in a choked voice. Her lips were gray. "I didn't know… if I'd known… if I'd known she was out there…"
I rubbed her back, the only comfort I could give. "You couldn't have known, honey."
Camille cut in. "Detective, my client was a fourteen-year-old at a sleepover. Unless you're suggesting she had a duty to provide medical care she didn't know was needed, I'm going to object to this line of questioning as designed to elicit guilt rather than information."
"Fair enough," King said mildly. "The evidence indicates Leah was alive for a period of time after you last saw her. That's important for understanding what happened. That's why we're talking about it."
Mia nodded jerkily, wiping her nose on the back of her hand. She was trembling, pale from shock.
King said, "The medical examiner collected biological samples, including scrapings from under Leah's fingernails. Those were submitted for DNA analysis. Given the circumstances, the lab expedited some of the testing."
I knew what was coming before they said it. Maybe some part of me had been braced for this from the moment I first saw Mia's arms.
Callahan slid a photograph out from the file and turned it around. I forced myself to look. A close-up of Leah's hand, fingers curled slightly, nails caked with dirt and rust-colored blood.
"The DNAprofile developed from the epithelial cells under Leah's fingernails is a match to Mia's."
Cold went through me down to the bone. Sound seemed tinny and far away. Next to me, Mia shivered uncontrollably.
"Transfer happens in all kinds of ways," Camille said. "They were friends. Leah bled on her. Your DNA proves nothing."
Undeterred, Callahan flipped to a second page. "We've also documented superficial linear abrasions on both of your forearms, Mia. The ME noted that they're consistent with forceful physical contact between two people. For example, someone clawing or grabbing at another person."
Mia's voice was thin and high. "I told you about that. The first time. I slipped when I was taking pictures. On the bluff. Into some thorny bushes. That's all."
King nodded. "Okay. Then why do you think your skin cells are beneath Leah's fingernails?"
"When she… when she had the nosebleed. When she got dizzy. That must be how it happened."
"Let's go over that again."
Mia's frantic gaze darted to Camille. Camille's expression was neutral, professional, but I caught the quick movement of her throat as she swallowed. The reveal that Leah hadn’t died immediately had rattled her, too.
Mia took a shaky breath. "It was during the midnight photoshoot. When we went out, after everyone else was sleeping. Me, Chloe, and Leah. We went to the bluff to take pictures. It was… sometime after midnight. I don't know exactly."
"And what happened out there?"
"Chloe wanted Leah to stand near the edge," Mia said. "I got scared and told her not to go so close. Then her nose started bleeding. Like, a lot. She got really pale and said she felt dizzy. She grabbed my arms to steady herself. That's when she…when her nails—" Mia glanced at her own forearms, as if expecting to see fresh blood there. "Maybe she scratched me then a little, I don't know."
"She grabbed your arms," Callahan repeated, skepticism in hervoice. "Deep enough that your skin cells were embedded under her nails."
Mia's pupils were too wide. "Yes."
Camille interjected, "That's the medical examiner's interpretation, not fact. My client has explained the circumstances of the DNA transfer to the point that your DNA evidence seems useless. While I appreciate your help with the defense of my client, Mia has said all she's going to on the subject. Move on."
I could tell the detectives didn't believe her story. I wasn't sure that I did, either. I wanted to believe her. I needed to. The blood on the dress she'd explained away. But the scratches, only sort of. But not the missing camera, or the sandy slippers. Little lies that kept adding up.
"No argument on the bluff?" Callahan pressed. "No shoving, no grabbing?"
"No," Mia said. "I was trying to help her."
"Did you hear anything later?" King asked. "A scream? Leah calling for help? Did anyone leave the house after lights-out that you know of?"
"I told you everything. We took pictures. Her nose bled. We went in. I went to sleep."
