Page 2 of Framed

Maybe there was still time. Maybe I could get her help. But I stood stiffening in shock and cold instead. My whole body began to shiver as I stared down at Naomi Stewart’s pale lifeless body. Her blood oozed onto the cool, dark concrete. In the low light, it looked like an oil slick on the pavement.

No.

Naomi Stewart couldn’t be dead.

“No, no, no,” I repeated as my head shook in disbelief. I showed up on time. I did everything the note told me to do. I came alone. How the fuck did this happen? A cry threatened to erupt from my throat as reality crashed down.

“Somebody help me!” I wailed. My voice echoed in the eerily still alley. “Please. Somebody help!”

But the streets remained deserted. Just as empty as they’d been when my Uber pulled up. The driver was long gone now, no doubt. It was just us here. Me… and Naomi.

I needed to call for help.

I took a deep breath to try to calm myself. It was a futile attempt but I pushed through it. With still shaky fingers, I reached for my phone on the ground, dialed the only person I could think to call, and prayed that he would answer.

The phone rang three times. Four. Until finally a deep voice answered. “Scarlett?” He sounded worried. Gruff.

I stopped trying to reach out to him on day ninety-three but the sound of his voice brought me back. He always did that—made me feel safe. Even now, in a situation like this. The sob I was desperately holding back clawed its way up and ripped out of my throat.

How do I tell him?How could I possibly tell Xavier Adams that his sister was dead?

“Scarlett? What’s wrong?”

How could I possibly explain that they wanted me to find her like this? He wouldn’t believe me.

No one would believe me.

Sudden police sirens rent the night air. I startled and whipped around.Are they coming this way?Or was it just a coincidence?

No, those sirens were definitely getting closer. I could see red and blue lights flashing in the reflection of the closed businesses all around me. The tiny alley grew brighter as they approached.

Relief hit me first, followed hard on its heels by fear. Because I didn’t call them.

My blood ran cold as my brain finally caught up to what my body already knew. My heart raced, cold sweat pricking my palms.

Whoever sent me this note set me up.

Naomi Stewart is dead.

And I was the one going down for her murder.

chapter one

Scarlett

FOURYEARSLATER…

Rain had always been a bad omen for me.

It rained on my seventh birthday, which was scheduled to be an outdoor event with bouncy houses and face-painting stations set up in our backyard. I had been so excited because that was the first year Dad let me invite the whole school. About an hour after the hired event planning company finished setting up, a dark cloud blanketed our small town, and a heavy downpour invaded. It ruined all of the decorations, the food, and even the face-painting stations.

But that wasn’t even the worst part.

The wind blew so hard that day that all of the bouncy houses flew away.

Yeah, it was bad.

The next time the rain betrayed me was the day Dadattemptedto take me to Disneyland when I was nine. We ended up waiting out a Cat Three hurricane in a local Walmart. And it rained the day Dad took me camping for the first time when I was thirteen. Lightning struck our tent and it caught fire—which made for a hilarious story Dad liked to tell at barbecues later, but it was pretty terrifying at the time.

---