Page 51 of Snitches and Serpents

Only silence answers me.

At last, I sit up straight again and meet Mr. Paulsen’s gaze once more. He’s scowling at me.

“It wasn’t me,” I repeat. “I swear.”

“Do you know how many people say that exact thing in this room?” he says, sounding suddenly tired.

“But it’s true.” Desperation bleeds into my voice, and I raise my hands to motion at my own body. “Do I really look like someone who spends her nights smashing up old gym halls with bats and axes?”

“You’d be surprised by the number of crimes that seemingly ordinary-looking people commit.”

“I don’t…” Frustration washes over me. Raking my fingers through my hair, I release a long miserable breath and then meet his stern eyes again. “I didn’t do this.”

“You were standing in the middle of the room, holding the bag of tools that were used to cause the destruction.”

“I was set up.”

“By who?”

“Tristan Kane.”

His gaze sharpens, but all he says is, “Explain.”

“He was blackmailing me, and he told me that he would stop if I did him a favor. I agreed. He told me to go to that gym tonight, pick up the bag hidden outside the door, and then go inside and wait for someone to show up. I thought it might be drugs, and I didn’t want to get caught up in that, so I looked through the bag. But there were only tools in it.”

“And you didn’t find that suspicious?”

“Of course I did,” I say, some of that frustration leaking into my voice. “But like I said, he was blackmailing me. So I went inside anyway to wait for whoever I was supposed to give the bag to. But they of course never showed up. It wasn’t until you arrived that I realized that I had been set up.”

Mike says nothing. Sitting back in his chair, he watches me for a while. The clock on the pale wall ticks loudly into the silence.

“Do you have any evidence to support this claim?” he asks eventually. “Any tangible evidence at all?”

I squirm slightly in my seat and wring my hands in my lap as I drop my gaze and admit, “No.”

If only Tristan hadn’t seen right through me when I barged into his bedroom. Then I would’ve had an audio recording of him admitting that he had set me up by planting a knife in my clothes. That would’ve proved that he was already blackmailing me. But unfortunately, that cunning snake anticipated my move. So I have nothing.

“I see,” Mike Paulsen replies. “While you, on the other hand, had both the means and the opportunity. Not to mention that we caught you red-handed at the scene.”

My gaze darts up to his and I throw my arms out in desperation. “But I don’t have a motive. Don’t I need to have a motive too?”

“For vandalism? It could be something as simple as you blowing off some steam.”

“If I want to blow off steam, I go for a run. I don’t vandalize property!”

Ignoring me, he simply presses on with, “If we check those tools for fingerprints, will we find yours there?”

Hopelessness crashes into me as I stare back at him pleadingly. “Yes. But like I said, that’s only because I looked through the bag because I was worried there might be drugs in it.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Please. I am telling you the truth. It was Tristan Kane. He has a vendetta against me for something that happened back when we were in high school, so he blackmailed me and then he set me up to take the fall for this.”

Officer Paulsen just watches me in silence for a few seconds. Then he starts gathering up the papers on the table in front of him, getting ready to leave.

Panic and terror sear through my veins.

“Please,” I beg again. “I’ll pay whatever fines you want. I’ll do whatever you want. Just, please… don’t formally charge me. I can’t have a criminal record.”

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