Author's Note:

I have decided and now Camila did not sustain serious injuries to her legs in the car accident, and no longer uses a wheelchair. I'll go back and change it on here in the next couple days, but for those who might wonder why she's randomly walking around when she should be wheelchair-bound, that is why. Enjoy! :)

***

"We'd be so less fragile if we're made from metal and our hearts from iron." -Three Wishes, The Pierces

The letter through my locker came on Friday, which was far too reminiscent of the stalker for my liking. I pulled the crumpled leaflet of notebook paper out with trepidation and unfurled it.

Bleachers at 11. -J

I threw the note in the trash and closed my locker, making my way towards the football field. A few people shot curious looks my way, but most knew better than to talk about it or stare for longer than a courteous two seconds.

Jeremy was already waiting for me by the bleachers when I walked up, his back turned as he stared at the field. It was deserted save for the school's assistant on a mower.

"I enjoyed your ninth grade love note through the locker vent," I told him. "It was very old school."

He turned around, and pulled a crumpled brown paper bag from his pocket. "The stuff you asked for," he told me gruffly.

I smiled and took it off of him. "Thanks, Jeremy. But if anyone asks, this didn't happen, okay?"

He rolled his eyes. "You're not the only one with a discretion policy, Cam. It took you months to cotton on to Perrie's addiction."

"Months?" I asked. "This wasn't a new thing?"

"I guess since she's not speaking to me and it's all up in the air I might as well tell you. It started with an occasional joint to curb her depression. She hit the hard stuff about two months ago when you kicked into maximum bitch overdrive."

"Why didn't you stop her?" I asked. "You of all people know the effects of stuff like that."

"She begged me to!" he argued. "I figured if I stayed sober and watched her carefully, I could handle it."

"She's a junkie, Jeremy. You can see that!" I cried. "That's your idea of handling it?"

"Well, you don't have to worry about that anymore," he replied. "She won't speak to me, and I'm the only dealer in town. It might be rough going, but I think she's killing her addiction cold turkey. Once again, you win. Congratulations."

"This isn't about winning," I told him, resigned. "This is about stopping someone from running themselves into the ground."

"Well, good luck with that," he muttered, sticking his hands into the pockets of his ragged jeans and beginning to walk off.

"You love her, don't you?" I asked, slowly turning around to face him.

He looked at me over his shoulder. "What are you talking about, Cam?"

"Perrie," I responded. "I can tell from the way you talk about her. You love her."

"What does it matter if I do or I don't?" he replied. "Any chance I had is gone thanks to you."

"If you love her, you have to let her go," I told him. "She needs to focus on getting healthy now, and she doesn't need distractions from you."

"I get it. I'm white trash; just another junkie with a cheating father."

The 'cheating father' remark made me flinch, but I strengthened my resolve. "I'm sorry, Jeremy. But you have to leave Perrie behind and move on. I'm sure you'll find a crack head who loves you unconditionally, and you can live happily-ever-after shooting up in random hotel rooms. Perrie is meant for better things. Things that don't involve you."

"Don't worry, I got that loud and clear," he spat out. "Have a nice life, Cam. I wish you and Perrie all the best."

He stormed off, and I sighed. I felt a pang in my heart, and frowned. It felt almost like... guilt. Which is impossible, because it was Jeremy Quagmire we were talking about here, and he didn't deserve more than a stray thought during math class when you'd rather think about anything but the equations.

"Why'd you do that, Cam?"

Perrie appeared in front of me, pale and drawn with bags under her eyes and lank strips of blonde hair falling across her forehead.

"Do what?" I asked innocently.

"Say that to Jeremy," she responded. "I know you don't like him, but he was just trying to be a decent human being. Why'd you have to do that?"

"I know you can't see it right now, Per, but you're a mess," I said, gesturing to her crinkled shirt and sweatpants. "Jeremy is destructive, and I need to keep you safe."

"You're not my mother," she spat.

"No, I'm your best friend."

"I don't even think you're that anymore," Perrie whispered, shaking her head.

"You can be pissed at me now, Perrie, but one day you're going to look back and see I'm saving your damn life," I told her through clenched teeth. "I just hope one day you'll forgive me for that."

She looked away and ran a hand through her hair. "I'm sorry. The withdrawals are getting to me, I guess. You're right; you're only trying to help me."

I smiled. "I'm glad you can see the light, and you're going to make it through this. We both are."

"Are you any closer to finding who did this to you?" Perrie asked, gesturing to my disabled state.

"Not yet," I replied. "But believe me when I do they've got another thing coming. Now if you don't mind, I'd really like to get out of here. The mud is ruining my boots."

She rolled her eyes. "Fine. Come on, Cam. Let's go."

~ * ~

That afternoon, I made my way home with Perrie, who drove me dutifully, and, when she thought I wasn't looking, snuck glances and assessed my condition. I stayed quiet, too touched by how much she cared to voice my knowledge.

Instead I looked out the windows at the passing streets, as trees stripped themselves of leaves and nature buckled down for winter. It had always been my least favorite part of the year; even though it meant cute booties and beanies, it also meant unflattering ski jackets and flannel pajamas.

"Uh, Cam?" Perrie asked, breaking me out of my reverie.

"Hmm?" I asked, turning from where I'd been looking out of the window to face her.

She swallowed thickly and kept her eyes trained out of the windshield. "Why is there a police cruiser parked out of the front of your house?"

Frowning, I turned and looked down to the end of the street where I knew my house would stand imposingly over the rest. True to her word, a black and white police car was parked neatly on the curb, glittering in the afternoon sunlight.

I felt like my whole world was shattering, and felt my stomach revolt at the sight. Butterflies of the bad kind erupted in my stomach, and my mouth felt drier than a desert. I sucked in a long breath through my nose and forced my features to school themselves into one of polite disdain.

"Good question," I responded, straining to make my voice neutral. Memories of the fire that had erupted all those years ago came hurtling back to me, and I wondered if my destiny was finally catching up to me. "Maybe they're selling girl scout cookies."

Perrie slowly drove up to the front and parked just behind the cruiser, unclipping her belt and coming around to open the door and help me out.

"Per, I'm not an invalid," I told her, laughing. I smiled gratefully at her as she helped me onto the curb.

"You want me to come with you?" Perrie asked slowly, glancing up the drive. Two muscular men in black button-down shirts with silver badges turned around to face us, and I gulped as my eyes trailed down to their holstered gun and handcuffs-handcuffs I deserved to be in.

"No," I told her, looking up and smiling. "I'll be fine."

"You sure?"

I nodded and started walking up the cement driveway. "I'm sure. Thanks for the help, Per. I'll see you later."

She scratched the back of her head and nodded goodbye, watching as I made my way towards the front door. The two officers walked down to meet me, and I smiled and shielded my eyes with the back of my hand. "Officers," I greeted innocently. "Come to check on me after my accident? How sweet of you. I sure hope you brought a fruit basket."

They exchanged wary glances, and an older man with salt and pepper hair stepped forward. "Ma'am, I'm Officer Holden, and this is Officer Swift. If you don't mind, we'd like to take you down to the station for questioning."

"About what?" I asked, playing dumb. "This town is filled with so much scandal it's hard to know who I'm vouching for these days."

"It's about the fire a few years ago," Officer Holden replied. "An anonymous tip called in about an hour ago, saying that they saw you at the scene of the crime that afternoon. We'd like to ask you a few questions."

I felt my heart beat faster in my chest, and I curled my fingernails into the soft flesh of my palm. Deep breaths, Cam, I coached myself. They don't know you did it. Just breathe.

"I've got nothing to hide," I lied. "Let's go, shall we?"

~ * ~

The inside of the police station smelled of stale coffee and jelly donuts. Officers in navy uniforms buzzed around, and the constant sound of phones ringing and pages being printed assaulted my ears. Starched shirts were buttoned at the cuff and shoes were shined to perfection. Just one look at the low hums of conversation and precise way of typing could show this was a place of seriousness.

"This way," Officer Holden told me, leading me into a cold and sterile interview room with one-way glass and a metallic table.

"And I thought this only happened in the movies," I commented, tracing my fingers over the table.

"Have a seat," he offered, and I slowly sat down in a chair and crossed one leg over the other, steepling my fingers on the table.

"Can I get you anything? Coffee? Water?"

"Water would be lovely, thank you," I told him, knowing that if I had something to do to keep my hands busy would surely help me. He walked to the corner and poured me a glass of water from a dispenser, and then came back. He handed me the cup and sat down, and I wrapped both of my hands around the glass.

"How are you today?" he asked, slapping a yellow manila folder on the table and beginning to open it. I saw documents and photographs of the fire's damage, and I felt my stomach churn. I lifted the cup to my lips and took a sip to calm my nerves.

No one knows what happened, I told myself. They can't prove it's you.

"Let's just get down to it, okay?" I told him. "What do you want from me?"

"I just want to ask you a few questions," he told me. The door behind him opened, and in stepped a pretty woman in her thirties with chocolate-brown hair tightly held in a hairband. "Officer Taylor and I just want to get things straightened out."

"Ask away," I said, gesturing for them to continue.

"Where were you April 21st, three years ago?"

I blew out a breath. "That's pretty specific. I can't even remember what I was doing three days ago. Why?"

"That was the afternoon of the fire. It's pretty iconic in Leighton Fields. I'm surprised you didn't already know that."

I gave him a small smile. "I'm sorry, it must have slipped my mind. I hear you lost some good men that night. I'm very sorry. Especially to you, Officer Taylor."

She gulped as I threw her a breezily confident smile, and she twitched in her chair.

I turned back to him. "In response to your question, I'm not sure. Home, probably."

"Have someone who can attest to that?"

"Do I have someone who can attest to what I was doing one afternoon three years ago? No, sir, I don't think so. What about you, Officer Taylor? What were you doing?"

She gritted her teeth and turned away, glaring fixedly at the wall. I smirked and turned back to him. "I don't even know why you're questioning me, though. I'm sure there are many more eligible suspects than a lowly high school girl."

"We received an anonymous call earlier this afternoon," Officer Holden replied. "It's mandatory we follow all leads provided for us."

I choked on a laugh. No one had seen me go in and out of the precinct-I was sure of it. "Someone called you?" I asked. "Who?"

"I'm not at liberty to say," he told me. "I need to know, were you at the scene of the crime that afternoon?"

I sighed. "Okay, fine. Maybe I was near the police station, but not at it."

"What do you mean by that?"

Knowing this was an opportunity to seek an advantage, I smiled innocently. "Would you mind if I talked to Officer Taylor alone? I'd just feel more comfortable speaking about it alone to a woman, you know?"

He seemed unsure, and turned for confirmation to the woman in question. She glanced at me reluctantly, and I quirked an eyebrow. She sighed. "It's okay. Just give us a moment."

He nodded and stood up, taking the folder with him. He clutched it tightly to his side and nodded goodbye, before heading for the door. It shut behind him, and I turned to the nervous woman in front of me.

"Anna, how are you?" I asked. "It's been a while."

She leaned over the table. "I don't know what you're playing at, but I'm not going to join you. I'm a serious policewoman now, you understand?"

"The game is not over until I say it is, Anna," I responded. "Now, tell me, are there any recording devices in the room? Is anyone watching behind the glass?" I side-eyed the one-way mirror.

"No," she told me. "You're hardly even a suspect. No one's listening."

"Good, because we're going to help each other, and I don't need interference," I replied, folding my hands on the table and maintaining a cool exterior.

"Camila, I'm not going to do this with you," she told me, shaking my head. She went to stand up, and my hands fisted.

"Yes, you are," I told her through gritted teeth. "Sit your ass down or I tell the whole precinct what I know about you. And you know I won't leave out the slightest gory detail."

She unwillingly sat down and looked at me. "This is a serious investigation, Camila. Not another chance for one of your games."

"I know this is serious. And I'll tell you everything I know, so long as you do one thing for me."

"What do you want?"

"You know who tipped off the police that I was here that day. And you're going to tell me who called."

She shook her head. "No. That would be interfering in a serious investigation. It's against the law. I won't."

"Do I have to remind you what's at stake here, Anna? Either you tell me who called it in, or I tell everyone that when I was here that afternoon, I walked in to one of the abandoned offices to find you having a little play-time with a fellow cop. One who wasn't your husband. Which is ironic, considering he works here, too. Considering that officer was his best friend. But I guess police officers like the danger, don't they? It's such a shame it ended in heartbreak, though, isn't it? Considering he died in a fire that afternoon saving your husband. Almost cathartic."

"You won't win this time," Anna told me, though I could see her eyes filling with tears. "Matt's dead now. Whatever we had is over."

"Doubt that'll sting any less for your husband. The man he trained with-his best friend-and his wife. Having a hot lunch break in the next room. And, you know what, maybe he would forgive you. If this was the first time you ever cheated."

"You can't do this," she whispered. "I have a child now! She needs her family."

"Then tell me who called in."

She sighed and looked up at the ceiling, blinking rapidly to dispel the tears. "A young girl named Natalie Clavera, okay? Ring a bell?"

"Turns out that sugar has some spice, too," I said through gritted teeth. "Thank you, Anna. You've been most helpful."

"You said you'd help me out, too," Anna said quickly. "You need to give me some kind of statement."

I sighed. "You're right. Here's my statement, and you will stand by it no matter what. You do this, and your hubby never has to know of your fiery love affair."

"Just tell me, Cam," she replied.

"I was there that afternoon. I passed through the alleyway beside it on my way home. I never entered the precinct. But when I got to the end of the alley, I heard the door open and close behind me. I turned around, and saw a flash of black entering the building, and nothing else. Are we clear?"

She looked at me and cocked her head. "You really did do it, didn't you? You set the fire."

Even when you've got someone so tangled up in their web of lies, it always pays to be careful. "No," I told her confidently. "I didn't set that fire. But I don't need the hassle of having every aspect of my life investigated. Are we clear on our arrangement, Anna?"

She nodded, looking sick. "What choice do I have?"

I smiled and stood up, wincing as I put weight on my sore ankle. "That's more like it. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm feeling rather tired and need a nap. As a side note, could you maybe up the search for the person who mowed me down while you're at it? Thanks, dear!"

I walked to the door and opened it, once again entering the warm atmosphere of the central police station. Holden was filing some paperwork as I walked out, and made his way towards me. "Is that all, Officer Taylor?"

She nodded, and when I turned to assess her, I saw she looked quite put-together compared to her previously shattered state. "Yes, sir. I'll begin filling out the paperwork for you. Camila has given her statement and is free to go."

"Thank you for your time, Miss Stryker," Officer Holden said, inclining his head respectfully toward me. "May I give you a ride home?"

I smiled. "That won't be necessary, sir, I'll just hitch a ride. Thank you for the kind offer." I turned back. "It was nice seeing you again, Officer Taylor."

Then I walked out, leaving behind the feeling of melancholy.

"You've definitely dropped to a whole new low," I whispered, reflecting back on my tumultuous conversation with Anna Taylor. I'd used her affair against her, even when her partner had died in a fire I created.

Heaven knows I belong in Hell.

My phone chimed, and I sighed and fished it out of my pocket. The text came from an unknown number, and I opened it to find one word glaring out at me from the screen.

Murderer.

My teeth gritted, and I typed back swiftly and confidently, I'm not scared of you.

The reply came a minute later, and I opened it up with trepidation. I felt my stomach revolt at the reply.

Not yet. But you will be.

~ * ~

Hi, guys! Hope you enjoyed the chapter!

There are only a few left, and I will update soon, as I have already started writing the sequel (yes, you heard that right. There's going to be a sequel!)

Please remember to vote and comment and show me a little love.

Also, in other good news, I got a Twitter account! You should totally follow me on there!

Twitter: itsmelaneyb

Thanks for reading! xx