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172

EVIDENCE

I spent the next twenty-four hours on edge. Not only was I now looking forward to the Holiday

Dinner as the potential setting for my reconciliation with both Noelle and Josh, but I was dying to

get back into Ivy's room and do some more snooping. I had to find some real evidence that she

was my stalker and that she was plotting against Noelle. I had to put an end to her plans before I

lost my mind. Before Noelle lost her life.In the meantime, a thousand questions plagued me. Did

Ivy really kill Cheyenne? And if so, did Rose know about it, or was she only helping Ivy mess with

me? Why would Rose want to hurt Cheyenne? They had been such good friends. And why would

she want to hurt Noelle?

Too many questions. None of which would be answered by Rose, apparently, since I had left about

twenty messages on her voice mail and heard nothing back.

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But no matter. I could take care of this without her explaining--or, even better, admitting her guilt.

If I was on my own, I was on my own.

* * *

Friday morning I stood next to my door inside my room and waited for Ivy and Jillian to get their

stuff together and get out. The general noise in the hallways was convivial and excited. The Crom

had shortened all our classes for the day, so that they would all be crammed in before lunch,

giving us time to get ready for the Holiday Dinner that afternoon. The atmosphere in Pemberly

was not unlike the last day at Croton High before Christmas break. I could just tell no one was

going to be paying attention in class. We would all be too busy looking forward to the festivities.

But first, I had a mission.

I heard Ivy and Jillian's door close and they strode by my room, chatting about what they might

wear that night. Taking Sabine's advice to heart, I slid my iPhone into the back pocket of my jeans

and waited until their voices faded to nothing. Then I slipped out of my room and into theirs. This

time I went right for Ivy's dresser, yanking open the top drawer. All her things were folded and

lined up in perfect little rows, the black underwear separated from the white, separated from the

colorful. Crap. If I was going to search this stuff, I was going to have to do it carefully, meticulously.

Not good, considering how badly my hands were shaking.


Tags: Kate Brian Private Young Adult