I crossed my arms and didn’t answer, and Bradley shook his head. “You’re fucking crazy … actually crazy.”
“At least I’m not a serial predator.” My rage was palpable. “How many girls came after Alex and me? How many were there before us?”
Bradley’s lip twitched and I knew I was right that there were more. There were always more. Men like him didn’t stop.
“I didn’t kill Alex,” Bradley said defensively, switching gears. “Or Hazel. I can prove it.”
“How?”
He wiped his face with his hands. “I cannot believe I have to explain myself to you, of all people.”
I crossed my arms.
“I wasn’t even in the state when Alexandria was killed, Rose. I went to the graduation and then I went to the Fort Lauderdale airport. I flew to Tennessee to see my parents. My grandfather’s funeral was the next day.”
He gave me a pointed look, and I knew why. An airport was an ironclad alibi. There was no way that was something he could lie about. There’d be flight information, manifests, and receipts. Things the cops could check.
“And you just happen to remember that?”
“My dead grandfather?” Bradley snapped. “Yeah, it stuck out. Especially when I found out what happened to Alex.”
“What about when Hazel went missing?” I pressed.
“Rose, seriously—”
“Where were you?”
Bradley groaned, slamming his hand against the fridge beside me. It rattled.
“It was a Monday,” he said, frustrated. “I had classes until three forty-five and then film club. We screened two of the Back to the Future films. I didn’t leave until almost nine.”
Hazel had gone missing sometime between 3:45 and 7:00. My father had already called the cops by eight. Bradley had another ironclad alibi. There’d be witnesses, students, and other staff.
“I didn’t kill Alex or Hazel,” Bradley repeated for emphasis. “And I can’t believe that you would spend even a single second thinking I did.”
“Anyone makes more sense than Will,” I said, both relieved and disappointed. I was glad that I hadn’t spent months sleeping with a murderer, but I was still no closer to figuring out what had happened to Alex and Hazel.
“I think you might need psychological help,” Bradley said, shaking his head as he reached for his seltzer.
As if Bradley, of all people, could be questioning my actions.
I scowled. “That would hold a lot more weight if it weren’t coming from a man who repeatedly fucked high school girls.”
Bradley narrowed his eyes at me, giving me a withering look that was cut short as someone knocked on his door. He shook his head in irritation. I reached for my phone. It was still thankfully recording, and I shut it off. I’d decide what to do with it later. I had options. So many ways to punish Bradley for what he had done. He was finally going to face some consequences.
I followed behind him as he headed for the entrance. I was beyond ready to leave this apartment.
“Can I help you?” Bradley asked as he opened the door.
“Yeah,” a voice said firmly. “My name is Detective Dominick Pullman and I wanted to ask you some questions about the disappearance of Hazel Dearling.”
Pullman stopped short, his eyes widening as he looked from Bradley to where I stood behind him.Shit.
“Rose?” Pullman said, blinking in confusion. “What are you doing here?”
“I can explain,” I said.
25
