Two. It’s like a bullet right to the heart. I know one of those statements is from Colby, which means the other would be from Erica.
“Your witnesses are full of shit and are setting me up for a crime they’ve already admitted to me they had everything to do with.”
Detective Jones thumbs through his folder before pulling out a photo and sliding it across the table. “This is you on the night Miss Morgan was attacked,” he says.
My gaze drops to the image, and I see myself smiling. The girl here is almost a stranger to me. She was caught up with a guy who treated her like shit and all she wanted was to enjoy her night. “Yes, that’s me at the party,” I tell him, taking in the maroon dress and the soft loose curls that I’d spent an hour perfecting. “But there were also hundreds of kids at the party. This doesn’t prove anything.”
The detective reaches across the table and points to someone in the background of the photograph. “Is this Miss Morgan behind you?”
I lean in and search the picture, seeing four or five girls standing behind me, one of them with eyes that are so familiar it makes my chest ache. “I couldn’t be sure,” I tell him. “I’ve never met her before, though this girl in particular looks a lot like her brother, Tanner.”
“Right, so you were at the party while Miss Morgan was also present?”
“Yes, as well as hundreds of other kids—kids like Colby Jacobs and Erica Sawyer, the people who are actually responsible for hurting Addison.”
“What makes you say that?”
“Because Colby admitted it to me and then warned me if I don’t keep my mouth shut, I’II be next,” I say with a scoff. “He ran me off the road, held me down, and warned me to keep quiet. That’s how I got this broken rib. He attacked me, and then went to the hospital and tried to kill Addison by tearing out her breathing tube.”
“And Erica?”
“She told me that she and Colby were responsible for giving Addison drugs and then Colby raped her. She said that when she walked in, she saw Addison on the ground seizing and that they just left her there before taking off.”
The detective leans back in his chair, and I can tell from the look in his eyes he doesn’t believe a word I am saying. “Let’s talk about this broken rib,” he says. “I assume after you crashed your car, you went to the hospital?”
My brows furrow. “It wasn’t a car crash. Colby intentionally rammed me off the road and wrapped my Honda around a tree. He dragged me out of my car, into the bushes, and held me down with his hands around my throat.” I point to my throat. “You can still see the bruises.”
“Miss Ashford, answer the question. Did you attend the hospital last night?”
“Yes. Yes, of course I did. Tanner scared off Colby, and he rode with me to the hospital. I was seen quickly and discharged around eight in the evening.”
“We have checked the records, Miss Ashford. The hospital holds no discharge papers for you. You were still at the hospital last night, weren’t you? You were right there waiting and in the dead of night, you slipped into Addison’s room and pulled her tubes from her throat.”
My eyes widen in horror, my stomach twisting with nausea. “No, I would never do that,” I rush out. “Why are you doing this to me? Why are you trying to pin this on me when I had nothing to do with it? Colby and Erica are out there, and you’re letting them get away with it.”
“Tell me what happened last night, Brielle.”
I clench my jaw, frustration pulsing through my veins. “I was discharged at eight and I certainly did sign all the correct paperwork. Tanner was with me all night. His cousin, Jax Morgan, picked us up from the hospital and we went back to his place where we hung out with all of our friends. There are multiple witnesses who can place me at Tanner’s house. They left after midnight and Tanner took me home and stayed with me there.” I let out a sigh and meet his stare. “I’m being set up to take the fall. I swear to you, I didn’t do this.”
I’m met with the kind of silence that scares the shit out of me, and my heart begins to race even faster. I can’t go to prison. I’m not strong enough to be the top dog, and I won’t handle becoming someone’s bitch. I can’t do it.
The detective drops his gaze to the tablet on the table and presses something on the screen before turning it around and showing me the screen. A video plays from inside Addison’s hospital room, and I watch as a person creeps into the room and closes the door behind them. They’re wearing a black hoodie that has the hood pulled right up over their head and they’re avoiding the cameras with ease.