Chase grabbed the collar of my jacket, pulling me forward. The hallway fell silent. People watched, but nobody intervened.
"If you looked at it," Chase breathed, his voice vibrating with raw panic, "you know exactly what happens to people who cross my dad. Maya learned. You want your mom to lose her job? You want to find out how quickly the bank can foreclose on that garbage apartment you live in?"
He was threatening my mother.
A cold fury ignited in my chest, burning away the fear.
"If you touch my family," I said, my voice shockingly steady, "I'll make sure everyone hears how much you cried while Ryan died."
Chase’s eyes went wide. His grip on my collar loosened instantly. He stumbled back a half-step, looking like I had just driven a knife into his ribs. Trent and Brody exchanged confused glances—they didn't know the truth. They just thought this was about some stolen test answers or minor cheating scandal.
I adjusted my collar and walked past them, my heart pounding so hard it hurt.
I had tipped my hand. I had made an irreversible choice. I couldn't hide anymore.
During lunch, I sat in the library, staring at a blank notebook. I needed to get this evidence to an authority figure who couldn't be bought by the Mayor. The local police were out of the question.
But I remembered a text I had seen on Maya's phone. A message from three weeks before the crash.
Deputy Miller: If Chase keeps driving recklessly, you need to call me, Maya. Don't go through the Mayor. Come straight to me. I'll protect you.
Deputy Miller. The school liaison officer. He was younger, an outsider from a different county. He had always been kind to the students, running the community outreach programs. Maya trusted him.
I misunderstood the clue. I thought Miller was a safe harbor. I thought Maya had reached out to him because he was untainted by the Harding influence.
I packed my bag and walked directly to the liaison office near the gymnasium.
The door was open. Deputy Miller was sitting at his desk, eating a sandwich and typing on his computer. He looked up, smiling kindly.
"Leo, right? Have a seat. What can I do for you?"
I closed the door behind me, locking the deadbolt. Miller’s smile faltered slightly.
"I found something," I said, my voice trembling. "Evidence. About Ryan Harding's crash."
Miller set his sandwich down, wiping his hands on a napkin. His posture straightened, becoming intensely professional. "What kind of evidence, Leo?"
I reached into my bag, unrolling the sweater, and pulled out the neon pink phone.
"Maya Hayes recorded the crash. Chase was driving. He was drunk. He left Ryan to die, and Mayor Harding covered it up. Maya was blackmailed into leaving town."
Miller stared at the pink phone on the desk. He didn't look shocked. He didn't gasp. He just sat there in heavy, unbroken silence for a long time.
Then, he reached across the desk and picked up the phone. He examined the cracked screen.
"You listened to the audio?" Miller asked, his voice completely flat.
"Yes."
"Have you backed it up? Sent it to anyone?"
"No," I said. "I brought it straight to you. You told Maya you would protect her."
Miller sighed, a long, weary sound that chilled the room. He stood up from his desk, walking over to the window to close the blinds.
"You shouldn't have brought this to me, Leo."
Before I could react, Miller dropped the neon pink phone onto the hard linoleum floor. He lifted his heavy tactical boot and stomped his heel directly into the center of the screen.
A loud, awful crunch echoed in the small room.
I jumped out of my chair in horror. "What are you doing?!"
Miller ground his heel, crushing the internal motherboard until the phone bent in half, completely destroyed. He kicked the shattered remnants under his desk.
He looked at me, his eyes devoid of any warmth.
"Mayor Harding pays for my wife's medical treatments, Leo," Miller said softly. "He says hello. And he strongly suggests you forget everything you heard, unless you want your mother to be investigated for embezzlement at the courthouse tomorrow."
CHAPTER 3
The sound of the heavy boot crushing the pink phone echoed in my head like a gunshot.
I backed away from Deputy Miller’s desk, my chest heaving, the air in the small office suddenly feeling too thick to breathe. I had handed the only piece of physical evidence directly to the man who was paid to suppress it.