Twisted Secrets: A Dark High School Romance (Twisted Pine Academy Book 3)

by Kai Juniper

  "What girls did Jackson say Braden did this to?"

  "I don't know. I think Alyssa was one. Maybe Kristen."

  "Kristen? He strangled Kristen and she didn't tell anyone?"

  "He didn't strangle her. Or anyone else. Weren't you listening? Novak made it all up to make Braden look bad."

  "What if he did it but not to hurt the girl?"

  "What do you mean?" He tosses his candy wrapper on the counter.

  "Like during sex. Isn't that a thing?"

  Trystan laughs. "Yeah, I could see him doing that. My dad's done it."

  "He has? How do you know?"

  "I saw the marks on her neck when the chick was leaving."

  "And you're sure that's what it was from?"

  "Trust me, from the smile on her face that's what it was from. And it's something she wanted. She was one of those serious chicks who want you to think they're all prim and proper, but in the bedroom they're into all that kinky shit."

  So Brock, and likely Braden, have both left girls with marks on their necks. And Kristen showed up with them right before her death.

  "Novak also told the cops Braden raped a girl," Trystan says. "He didn't say who. He claimed she didn't want anyone to know, but the truth is it never happened. He just made it up to make Braden look bad."

  "You're positive your brother never did any of this stuff?"

  "I can't prove it, but why would he? If he did that shit, he'd be done with football. They'd kick him off the team and he'd lose any chance to play at college."

  "Is football really that important to him?"

  Trystan laughs. "Seriously? Have you met him?"

  "I know it's important but it's just a game. It's not like he's good enough to play pro."

  "Maybe not, but he could play at college. That might be the only way he gets in."

  "His grades are really that bad?"

  "His real grades? Yeah."

  I get up and take my plate to the sink.

  "Are you still gonna date him?" Trystan asks as I rinse my plate. "Knowing what he's done?"

  "What you said about him doesn't change anything. I like Jackson. I'm not going to stop seeing him. I don't need your approval, or Braden's, or your dad's."

  Trystan walks past me to the trash can and tosses out his candy wrapper. "My dad's only okay with it because he wants a part in Roman's movie. He's just as much of a traitor as you are."

  "I'm not a traitor." I go up to Trystan. "And I'm not dating Jackson to get back at your brother. You can believe that or not. I don't really care."

  Ana walks in, smelling like cigarettes. I didn't know she smoked. I never smelled it on her before.

  "You're smoking again?" Trystan asks Ana.

  "Just one," she mutters.

  "Dad hates that shit. If he smells it on you he'll—"

  "I know," she says as she washes her hands. "I need to go to the store. I'll stop and change clothes on my way back." She looks at us. "Do either of you need anything?"

  "More of those chips," Trystan says, nodding to the almost empty bag. "And more of Rumor's candy bars."

  "You already ate them all?" Ana asks me.

  "Trystan ate one, and I'm guessing he's going to eat more so get extra."

  Ana smiles at Trystan. "She's bringing you to the dark side?"

  "I was already there. But yeah, get some extra. My diet's going to shit right now. I'll clean it up later."

  "Tell your father I'll be back in an hour." Ana goes past us down the short hall that leads to the garage.

  When I'm sure she's gone, I turn to Trystan. "What's her story?"

  "What do you mean?"

  "Why does she stay here? Braden treats her like shit and your dad uses her for..." I check to make sure he's not behind me, "more than cooking."

  "That's mutual. She wants it as much as he does. She thinks he'll eventually want more, like want her to be his girlfriend, but it's never going to happen. He's not going to date the help."

  "But he has no problem having sex with her."

  "They BOTH want it." He folds his arms over his chest. "Why are you judging? They're adults. They can do what they want."

  "I just get the feeling she's not happy here. She could do stuff with Brock without having to work for him. Braden practically assaulted her before you walked in. Why would she put up with that?"

  "He didn't assault her," he says, getting angry. "And I better not hear you use that word again when talking about Braden. That's the type of shit that'll get him arrested. You're sounding just like Novak. He probably told you to talk about Braden that way."

  "He didn't tell me anything. I saw it with my own eyes. Braden had his hands all over her. He trapped her against the stove and grabbed her ass and had his mouth right by her ear. "

  "So he touched her. Big deal. She's not exactly innocent. That's why she can't get a job. My dad did her a favor letting her work here. Even if she could get a different job, it wouldn't be better than this. Dad pays her twice what anyone else would, especially if they knew about her past."

  "What do you mean?"

  Trystan leans against the counter. "She's been in jail. Served time."

  "For what?"

  "Prostitution. She started really young. Ran away from home and needed money. She got caught and served time but as soon as she got out she went back to it."

  "How'd she end up here?"

  Trystan smiles. "Braden. He saw her on the street. Thought she was hot. Asked her out and she asked him how much. He had no clue. He thought she was just some girl."

  "And then what happened?"

  "He took her home."

  "They had sex?" I ask, shocked that she'd do it with him.

  "No. She asked for money upfront. Braden didn't have enough cash. He asked if he could get something else. Something cheaper."

  "And did he get anything?"

  "Dinner." Trystan laughs. "Dad found her in Braden's room and asked what was going on. Braden told him she was just some girl he met. Ana instantly fell for Dad. She offered to make him dinner."

  "Didn't he think that was strange?"'

  "No, because she said it after Dad said he was going to get something to eat. Ana told him she's studying to be a chef and offered to make dinner for him and Braden."

  "So she lied."

  "No, she actually was in cooking school. She was in a training program for women who'd been in prison. And I guess her mom was a good cook so she probably learned stuff from her."

  "Did Brock ever find out about her?"

  "Yeah. Braden told him after dinner. He didn't care. He hired her the next day."

  "Why would he want an ex-con working at his house?"

  "Because she knows shit." Trystan smiles. "The kinky shit he's into? She'll do all of it, and she knows what she's doing."

  "Oh." I try not to think about that but the images keep popping into my head. Ana is always so quiet and seems kind of boring. I never would've guessed she used to be a prostitute. "She's not still doing that, right?"

  "No. With what he pays her she doesn't need to. She hasn't done that for probably three or four years, or whenever she started here."

  "I still think she needs to stand up for herself with Braden."

  "She's not going to risk it. She loses this job, she could end up back on the streets."

  The doorbell rings.

  "That's the lawyers," Trystan says. "I'm going to my room."

  "It's only one. Your dad said they're coming at two."

  "Good luck," Trystan says with a smirk before walking off.

  I hear Brock's voice at the door, then hear the clicking of shoes on the wood floor. It sounds like a woman's high heels. Given how sexist Brock is, I assumed the lawyers would be men.

  "Rumor," Brock calls out. "Come out here, please."

  I reluctantly walk to the entry and find Brock there with a man and a woman, both wearing dark suits and black-rimmed glasses.

  "Rumor, this is Mr. Daniels and Ms. Wietz. They'll be meet
ing with you regarding the Reynolds' case."

  "Hello, Rumor," Ms. Wietz says, extending her hand to me.

  "Hi," I mutter, shaking her cold skinny hand. I turn to Brock. "I thought Braden was meeting with them first. At two."

  "Yes, well, the police are rather insistent on speaking with you so I asked Mr. Daniels and Ms. Wietz to come earlier than our original meeting time so they could go over what you need to say to the police."

  "The cops were here again? When?"

  "They weren't here. They contacted Mr. Daniels, asking if they could set up a meeting with you."

  "But I'll actually be the one working with you," Ms. Wietz says. "I'll be the one accompanying you to any inquiries with the police or their detectives."

  "I mostly deal with the behind-the-scenes work," Mr. Daniels says. He's older than Ms. Wietz, probably around fifty, with dark hair streaked with gray.

  Ms. Wietz is probably in her late thirties or early forties. She's pretty, like she could be on TV. Her dark brown hair is pulled up but I'm guessing it's long when she lets it down. She's tall and thin and has bright blue eyes that caught my attention the moment I saw her.

  "Where would you like to talk?" Brock asks the lawyers.

  "Let's go to the back patio," Ms. Wietz says.

  "Right this way." Brock leads us back there. "This should work," he says, motioning to the big round table that's next to the outdoor kitchen.

  "Thank you, Brock," Ms. Wietz says, setting her leather bag down as she takes a seat.

  "Would you like anything to drink?" he asks. "Ana will bring it out."

  "She went to the store," I say.

  "We don't need anything," Ms. Wietz says. "We'll come get you when we're done."

  A nervous flutter erupts in my stomach, making me feel sick. I hate this. Meeting with lawyers. Having to defend myself. I've been in trouble before but for stupid stuff. Getting caught with Axl's joint at a concert. Skipping school. Cheating on a test. But this? Being involved in a murder?

  I never in a million years thought this would happen.

  Chapter Six

  As Brock goes back in the house, I sit down across from Ms. Wietz. Mr. Daniels is beside her. He takes his laptop out and starts it up.

  "So," Ms. Wietz says, "tell us about your involvement with the accused."

  "You mean Jackson? Or Braden?"

  "Jackson." She smirks, clearly annoyed I included Braden. I already don't like this woman, and knowing she's protective of Braden makes me like her even less. I don't like Mr. Daniels either. I think it's because they're lawyers. My mom hated lawyers and convinced me to hate them too.

  "We've been dating since school started," I say.

  "And what are your thoughts about what happened last night?" Ms. Wietz asks.

  "Jackson had nothing to do with it. Neither did I. I didn't like Kristen but I'd never hurt her."

  "So who do you think did this?"

  I shrug. "Could be anyone. Nobody at school liked her. Braden hated her. Maybe HE did it."

  Ms. Wietz stares at me a moment before responding. "That's interesting."

  "What's interesting?"

  "Braden said the same thing about you. That you hated the Reynolds girl enough to kill her."

  "Braden said that?" I huff. "Then it was definitely him. He hates me even more than Kristen. He'd love to see me rot in jail for something HE did."

  "And I assume you'd want the same. For Braden to end up in jail?"

  "If he did it, then yeah. But I wouldn't accuse him of something he didn't do just to lock him away."

  "Where were you last night?" Mr. Daniels says as he types on his laptop.

  "In my room. Asleep."

  He continues to type. "Where were you at eleven, or around then?"

  "Eleven? I don't know. I was probably still out with Jackson."

  Mr. Daniels looks at Ms. Wietz. She looks back at him like she's thinking the same thing he is, although I can't even guess what that might be.

  "What?" I say to them. "What's going on?"

  Ms. Wietz leans toward me across the table. "Initial analysis of the body puts the time of death between eleven and midnight. If your only alibi at that time was the accused, it'll be more difficult to prove your innocence."

  "But there's no evidence!" I bolt up from my chair. "I didn't do this! Why won't anyone believe me?"

  "Rumor, we are not accusing you of anything," Ms. Wietz says. "We're simply saying that from the point of view of a jury, this is concerning, especially since you had motive."

  "I didn't have motive! I just didn't like her. I don't like a lot of people but I don't go around killing them!"

  "Please. Sit down," Ms. Wietz says.

  I sit down, shaking my head. "This is so ridiculous. Why would I kill her? You really think I want to spend the rest of my life in prison?"

  "We're not saying you did it. But we have to consider what others might think. As of now, we don't believe there's much evidence left at the scene. If that's the case, the police will turn to circumstantial evidence, which would include your alibi and any motive you might have had to kill the Reynolds girl."

  "I didn't have a motive. And Jackson and I weren't at his house last night. He dropped me off here."

  "But you might've stopped at his place first. Or you might've told him to do this alone, and he did, because he loves you."

  "Are you just making this up or do you really think that's what happened?"

  "I'm saying what a jury might think, or the story a prosecutor might come up with."

  My heart's beating hard and fast in my chest as I realize I might actually go to jail for this.

  "What evidence do they have?" I ask. "Anything?"

  "The police haven't released details yet but Mr. Novak's arrest tells us they found something linking it to him."

  "Like what?"

  "Could be a personal item from the victim. Something found on her from Mr. Novak's house. His blood on her body, or hers on his. Or someone could've come forward and named him as the murderer."

  "Like who?"

  "A neighbor who might have seen something. Or someone who overheard Mr. Novak making threats against the victim. Talking about harming her."

  "He wouldn't do that. He was helping her. Her was letting her stay with him. If she had something of his when she died, it's because she took it from his house. She still had a key. She refused to give it up. He was going to change the locks but he didn't do it yet."

  "Why was she staying with him?"

  "She said it was because she didn't get along with her stepdad but I don't believe her."

  "Why is that?"

  "Because she—" I stop, not sure if I should tell them.

  "Rumor, what is it?" Ms. Wietz asks. "What do you know?"

  I chew on my lip, that nervous flutter creeping up to my chest.

  "Rumor, we need to know the truth. Anything you tell us will stay between us."

  "No, it won't. You'll tell the police this and then I'll have to answer even more questions and Principal Edwards will make my life hell at school, not that it matters. It's already going to be hell with Braden hating me and telling everyone else to."

  "You mentioned Principal Edwards," Ms. Wietz says, glancing at Mr. Daniels. "What do you know about Kristen's stepfather?"

  "If I tell you, you have to promise me you won't take this to the police."

  "Go ahead," Ms. Wietz says.

  "I caught them."

  "Who?"

  "Principal Edwards and Kristen. Having sex."

  Mr. Daniels types faster.

  "When did this happen?" Ms. Wietz asks. "And where?"

  "It was after school. Maybe a week ago? I stayed late for counseling. I thought the building was empty but then I heard noise coming from one of the classrooms."

  "And it was them?"

  "Yeah. I'm sure of it. I saw Kristen's face. I only saw part of Principal Edwards' face but it was definitely his voice and his clothes. He was wearing the same cloth
es he had on at school that day."

  "Did they see you?"

  "I don't think so. But I told Kristen I saw them together. I think she told her stepdad I saw. I overheard them talking."

  Ms. Wietz removes her glasses and sets them on the table. "Ms. Halliway, this is a very serious accusation. Are you positive you saw the two of them together?"

  "Yes. I'm one hundred percent sure. I confronted her about it because she kept telling Jackson her stepdad was abusing her, like touching her inappropriately. She used that as the reason she had to stay at Jackson’s house."

  "Why would Ms. Reynolds tell Mr. Novak one thing and you another?"

  "I think it was just another way for her to try to break us apart. Make us fight with each other."

  "Is that what happened?"

  "Yes. She knew I didn't want her staying with Jackson but she'd show up at his house, crying, saying her dad did all this stuff to her so Jackson would let her spend the night. She had him so convinced she was being abused that he didn't believe me when I told him the truth. And she knew he wouldn't believe me, which is why she wasn't worried about me knowing the truth."

  Mr. Daniels types even faster.

  "Rumor, I need you to understand that telling the police this could help your case. And Mr. Novak's. A lot of murders are committed by someone who was in a relationship with the victim. If Ms. Reynolds was indeed in a relationship with her stepfather, the police need to know."

  "They wouldn't believe me. I don't have proof. They'd think I made it up. Even if they believed me, it wouldn't help. Principal Edwards was at home when Kristen was killed. Jackson would still be the main suspect."

  Ms. Wietz's phone rings and she answers. "Yes. What do you have so far?" She nods. "Anything else?" She pauses. "When will you know more?" She pauses again. "We'll be in touch. Thank you." She turns to Mr. Daniels. "They found some evidence but won't release details yet. She definitely was in the water. As we suspected, it washed away any prints."

  "She was found in the ocean?" I ask.

  "She was in there at some point," Ms Wietz says. "Most likely dumped there after her death. She washed up on the shore, right behind Mr. Novak's house."

  "That alone proves he didn't do it. He wouldn't kill her then dump her in his back yard."