Page 61 of I'm Not Done with You Yet

“Once in a while.” So many times. “I don’t know, she was never on it.”

“And you don’t find that strange?”

“I don’t know. I mean, I know people who’re not on social media. My husband’s not big on it.”

“Oh, Ted doesn’t have a Facebook account?”

I frown. “Well, he does, obviously. But he’s not, like, on it, on it. He never checks it.” As soon as I say that, I realize it’s not true, because Ted checks Facebook about once a week.

“Right, that’s common. But what you’re saying is that Thalia doesn’t even have a Facebook, or a Twitter, or an Instagram account, which is not normal.”

I gape at her, opening and closing my mouth. “I mean—yeah, I guess it’s not very common. But I don’t understand what that has to do with me. Why am I getting grilled because Thalia’s not on TikTok?”

I’m met with a long, drawn-out sigh. Detective Howe leans forward, clasping her hands in front of her, and looks me straight in the eye. “Have you ever wondered why she might have disappeared so completely after you killed Antoine?”

The way she said “you killed Antoine” sends a chill down my spine. “Uh, hang on—”

“Because I have a statement from Thalia Ashcroft saying that you were obsessed with her. You were stalking her in Oxford, and yes, you did save her from Antoine, but she also felt like you weren’t—hmm, how to say this delicately—like you were glad that you were given this opportunity to kill him and get away with it.”

“What?” The blood in my veins stops flowing. Everything inside me has turned to jagged ice. “No, wait—”

“Obviously, she didn’t tell any of this to the Oxford police; she said she was so terrified that she just wanted to get away from it all, and she took the chance to leave the city and escape your attention.”

“Hang on—”

Detective Howe holds up a hand. “There’s more. Thalia said after leaving Oxford, she deleted all of her social media profiles to ensure that you wouldn’t be able to track her down. She even released her first few books under a pen name to avoid you. Then she said that when she got her big book deal, she felt so strongly about using her real name that she was willing to risk it, especially since it’s been years since Oxford. She thought there was a good chance that you’d moved on. Kind of a silly risk to take, if you ask me.” She actually winks at me then, like she’s still trying to get me on her side even though she’s lobbing these insane accusations at me. “And that was when you tracked her down again. Showed up at some book convention she was at? We’ve got a couple of witnesses saying you were behaving somewhat aggressively during her talk.”

Behaving aggressively? I see a flash of myself at SusPens Con, overwhelmed by emotions at seeing Thalia again after all these years, shouting out a question at her. How I must have come off to onlookers. Unhinged. Like a stalker. “I don’t like crowds.”

She crooks her mouth into a mirthless smile. “We also spoke to Ani Pranajaya about you, and she swore that you stole a necklace from her? Erratic behavior, Jane. Everyone we talked to can attest to that.”

Ani’s necklace. God, who would’ve thought that it would come back to bite me like this?

“And of course, the other writers at the retreat all attest to you inviting yourself to Montauk. They said Thalia was obviously uncomfortable around you, but that she was too kind to tell you to go away.”

Another flash of me and Thalia at Montauk, the way she’d gone inside first to let everyone know that I was there. Whatmust she have told them?Oh my god, my college stalker is here. Please be nice to her; she’s dangerous and I’m so scared.I can picture it so easily in my mind’s eye, the way that Thalia’s beautiful face would’ve looked then, tight with fear. No wonder they’d all been so quietly furious toward me. All those glares. The look on Kurt’s face.

Kurt.

Realization smashes into me like a hammer. This is why. This is why she lured me back to her. Because she wanted me to go down for Kurt’s murder.

“Why are you asking me these questions? Do they have to do with Kurt’s accident?”

“Was it an accident, Jane?”

I glare back at her. I’m not going to be the one who looks away first, because I’m not guilty. I’m not the one who’s failing to do my job. “Isn’t it your job to find out if it was an accident?”

“You’re right.” She blinks. I win. But it’s an empty victory. “We’re still looking into it. It’s just that some details are showing up and I thought it would be best to talk to people, cover our bases.”

“So this is all just covering your bases? Asking me if I wanted to kill Antoine?” It’s too much. All of it. I feel the truth bubbling inside me, hitting its boiling point before erupting. I can no longer keep it inside me. “I didn’t kill Antoine!” I cry. “It was Thalia. She was the one who did it.” The words sear themselves out of my mouth, leaving me breathless. There, my deep, dark secret is out.

But Detective Howe only looks smug. “Yes, Thalia did warn us that you might say that.”

“She’s fucking lying!” My voice comes out harsh with rage, and yes, it is rage, fuck what Kathryn says, because I know what anger feels like and it is this, hot and pulsing and animalistic.

Detective Howe’s eyebrows shoot up into her hairline. She’s looking at me like I’m a dangerous criminal, like she’s this close to reaching for her gun. Somehow, by sheer teeth-gritting power, I manage to will myself to breathe. BREATHE. I suck in a breath through my teeth, clenching the armrests of my chair.

“I’ve been talking to many people, Jane,” Detective Howe says. “They all say you’re—you’ve got quite a temper, don’t you? Your neighbors commented on it.”

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