“Not yet.”
I squeezed her in relief.
“I have your agent on the line,” said the lawyer in the front seat, twisting around as our driver honked at the people blocking our path. When they leapt out of the way, convinced by his threat, he gunned it out of the parking lot.
“Haley.” Scout forced herself to sound composed. “We just left the station.”
“I trust you didn’t say anything that’s going to fuck us?” Haley had hardened over the years with her gradual success, becoming a blunt battering ram, like so many other agents.
“Of course not.” Scout slumped in her seat. “The lawyer told me not to say anything. We just stayed at the station as long as we did to learn as much as possible about the case.” She looked at me as she said it, so I knew the information was for my benefit, too.
“So it’s true?” Haley asked. “They actually think you killed someone?”
“Apparently.”
“Christ. And we pay these idiots our tax dollars. Listen, I’m hiring a crisis PR team to draft a statement, and I’m calling your record label to put out the fire before it starts. We need to get your lawyer on it—”
“My lawyer is right here,” Scout said.
“Not your criminal defense lawyer, your entertainment lawyer. Buckle up, honey, you’re about to pay for a shit ton of lawyers. But here’s the silver lining: We’ve been trying to boost your profile for years, and now we have everyone’s attention. You bet yourassI’m going to milk this for everything it’s worth.”
I could almost feel Scout’s nausea.
“And if your label tries to cancel your tour, we’re suing the cops for missed earnings. So hang in there. This could be the best thing that ever happened to you.” With that, Haley hung up.
Numbly, Scout handed the lawyer his phone back. Within seconds, he was busy barking into it. We sat in silence as the minutes passed. Eventually I closed my eyes, exhaustion washing through me as the high of the adrenaline finally receded.
“Izzy,” Scout whispered.
I cracked an eye open.
“They have my hair.”
“What?”
“The detective said they found strands of my hair in the dead woman’s bathroom sink pipe, mixed with her blood. They think I shot her and cleaned up in the bathroom. They tested it against Georgia’s DNA. That’s how they knew it was me.”
They’d used Georgia against her. The awfulness of it took on another layer. “How the hell did your hair end up in a dead woman’s sink?”
Scout shook her head. Deep circles ringed her eyes. “I have no idea. I swear to you, I’ve never met her before.” She looked out the window as we entered the ramp for the 101. My mind spun around the improbable facts. There was only one explanation.
“Scout,” I said quietly. “I think you’re being framed.”
Her blue eyes met mine, vivid despite her fatigue. It was a strange thing when your best friend was someone whose face you knew like the back of your hand, but also a public figure, an object of fascination to strangers. You had to hold both versions of them in your head at the same time, like trying to overlay images, marry a larger-than-life magazine ad with a giggling snapshot from eighth grade.
The Scout I’d grown up with wasn’t capable of killing a person. But the Scout who’d clawed its way out after Georgia died… that version had been surprising me for years.
Guilt socked me in the stomach for even thinking it.
“I agree,” she said, oblivious to my disloyal thoughts. “It’s the only explanation. Someone is setting me up. Which means we need help, Iz.”
I glanced at the lawyer. “Haley said he’s the best money can buy.”
She shook her head. “Not that kind. We need to figure out who’s framing me, and why, before the police fuck this up like they did with Georgia. We have to do this ourselves.”
Like everything else, she might as well have said.Like everything that matters.
“We need someone who knows how to investigate.” Scout waited for what she was saying to sink in.
