My voice was stronger this time. I forced my hands to uncurl from my sweater. I sat up straighter, feeling the erratic fluttering in my chest finally ease into a steady, solid rhythm. I pointed a single, unshakeable finger straight at Carter’s chest.
“He snatched it off the table and crushed it under his heel.”
Carter threw his hands up defensively. “It was a joke! I swear to God, it was a joke. I thought it was just a stupid fitness tracker. She’s always acting so tragic and sickly. I was just trying to prove she was faking it. I didn't know it was a police radio!”
“Ignorance doesn't excuse destruction of government property and witness endangerment,” Miller said, taking a slow step toward the quarterback.
Before Miller could say another word, the heavy double doors flew open again. The hallway noise bled into the room, louder this time. The symphony music had stopped.
“What the hell is going on here?”
Richard Vance stepped into the staging area. He looked immaculate in his midnight-blue tuxedo, an aura of supreme wealth and absolute control rolling off him. His face was etched in righteous fury. Two local beat cops, completely dwarfed in authority by the state troopers, hovered nervously behind him in the doorway.
“Dad!” Carter yelled, a pathetic whine leaking into his voice. “They’re trying to say I attacked her!”
Richard Vance’s icy blue eyes swept the room. They passed over Nurse Ellis, stopped on Haddock with profound disappointment, analyzed Agent Miller’s badge, and finally—slowly—landed on me.
I stopped breathing.
I was thirteen the last time he saw me, shivering in the freezing rain in the alley behind my apartment. Now I was sixteen, taller, wearing the maroon prep school uniform.
For a terrifying, stretched second, Vance's eyes narrowed. His brow furrowed as his brain tried to run facial recognition logic on my features. But the puzzle piece didn't fit. He just saw a terrified high school girl in a cheap sweater. He didn't know who I was.
But as his eyes tracked down to the shattered silicone pieces illuminated by the trooper’s flashlight on the floor, Vance’s face underwent a horrifying microscopic change. The blood drained from his cheeks. His jaw tightened so hard I could hear his teeth grind from six feet away.
He knows what the bracelet means, I realized, a cold jolt of adrenaline hitting my spine.
“Officer,” Vance said smoothly, recovering his polished demeanor. He stepped forward, radiating unearned authority. “I am Richard Vance. This is a misunderstanding between teenagers. Carter is under immense pressure tonight. He clearly let a childish rivalry get out of hand. Send the bill for the medical monitor to my attorney. But my son is walking out onto that stage right now to receive an honor that belongs to this family.”
Vance grabbed Carter’s upper arm, gripping it hard enough to bruise, and turned to walk out.
“He’s not walking anywhere, Richard,” Miller said softly. “You know exactly who I am, and you know I don't respond to high school rivalries.”
Vance stopped. He didn’t turn around immediately.