Rebecca woke up on Friday morning at a modest 11:10 AM, splayed out on one of Kennedy's couches with her left hand hanging over the edge to the point that her fingertips grazed the carpet.

She couldn't remember when she fell asleep. She couldn't remember if Kennedy had gone to bed at the same time as her. She couldn't remember if the police had actually found Jaxson's body in Lake Keowee, or if that was just the four glasses of cheap wine she had downed by the time the alert hit Kennedy's phone.

She sat up slowly, surprised that her head didn't hurt more. It was like a five-pound dumbbell was resting on her skull. Rebecca had been expecting something more in the twenty-pound region.

She looked around for her phone, eventually finding it nestled between a couch cushion and a thin decorative pillow. One text message since she had fallen asleep. From Celeste.

Didn't this dude just give Kennedy her mistrial?

So, it had been a real headline.

Rebecca didn't respond. She sat on Kennedy's couch, staring straight ahead, until the woman of the hour exited her bedroom, rubbing her eyes in a way that would give her crow's feet at twenty-five.

"You need to call Lydia."

"Good morning to you as well." Kennedy muttered, wandering into the kitchen, "Why do I need to call the step-monster?"

"Step-monster? Really? I feel like we've moved past that."

Kennedy poked her head around the corner, a bodiless orb with a pointed glare directed towards her houseguest.

"I moved a dead body for her. I can call her whatever I want."

"I'll give you that," Rebecca agreed, "But you need to call her."

"About Jaxson's body?" Kennedy called from the kitchen.

"Yes. I wasn't suggesting you call her to discuss the weather."

"You're bitchy when you're hungover." Kennedy observed, walking into the living room with a pre-made bottled Starbucks mocha frappuccino in her right hand and her phone in her left, "But fine."

She sat down on the couch opposite Rebecca and held her phone up so that both girls could hear.

"You've reached Lydia Abrams. I'm unable to come to the phone—"

Kennedy hung up and tried again.

"You've reached Lydia Abrams. I'm—"

Again.

"You've reached—"

"Call the hotel." Rebecca suggested after the fourth attempt, "Maybe they can send your call to her room."

Kennedy obliged.

"Mrs. Abrams checked out of her room early this morning, ma'am." Was the response to their inquiry.

Kennedy thanked them and hung up the phone.

"Whatever," she leaned back and turned on the TV, "She said she cleared the security tapes. We should be fine."

"You're being awfully cavalier about possibly facing your second murder charge of the month."

"It's not like anyone could like me any less." Kennedy replied, switching the channels until one seemed to catch her eye. Or, to be more accurate, caused the color to drain from her face and her mouth to set in a thin line.

Rebecca turned to face the TV and immediately wished that they hadn't turned it on. That she had been able to enjoy the last seconds of her life for a bit longer before everything was ripped away from her.

"We received this footage just moments ago, folks. It appears that two young women are carrying a body bag out of a hotel. And if you watch a bit longer, you'll see the fatal mistake they made in this escapade."

Two loud bangs sounded at Kennedy's front door and Rebecca nearly jumped out of her skin. She stood to answer it out of habit until Kennedy grabbed her arm and shoved her back onto the couch. Her eyes were still glued to the television.

Against her better judgement, Rebecca watched as well.

On the screen, the two girls on the security footage carried the bag across a hallway, almost making it out of the frame before pausing and dropping the body on the floor, both clearly panting heavily.

The knocks sounded again, louder this time. Rebecca looked at Kennedy while the latter ignored her. They both knew what was coming next.

"Police, open up!"

Right on cue, both girls on the screen looked up, noticing the camera. Kennedy Abrams turned around and motioned for Rebecca Eaves to pick up her side of the bag before both girls disappeared from view.

"Ken—"

But then the apartment door flew off its hinges, twelve men aimed guns and flashlights at their heads, and Rebecca Eaves wondered how much compassion would be directed at a girl facing her second murder charge of the month.

Except this time, Kennedy had an accomplice.

And this time, they'd been framed.

A/N: Chapter I of Proven Guilty, the third and final book in the Treadmill trilogy, will be available two weeks from today, on Wednesday, March 16.

Get ready.