Page 4 of The Ruthless Note

“We need to get your official statement in order to charge Miss Miller with aggravated assault.” He hands me a filled-out report.

“The hell is going on here!”A man in a suit storms into view. “I’m Reginald Miller, Christa’s dad and chairman of the board at Redwood Prep. Why is my daughter being questioned? Do you have any idea the hell my lawyers will rain—”

“We have evidence of your daughter instigating a near-fatal drowning. This is a very serious matter, Mr. Miller.”

“My daughter wouldnever—”

The cop lifts his phone and plays the video.

Giggling pours from the speakers, then someone whisperssh.On screen, Christa is tiptoeing toward me. Her hands are out-stretched. Then they’re slamming against my back.

I watch my body lurch into the inky blue water and my throat gets tight as if I’m reliving the horror of that moment all over again.

My enemies are ruthless.

Which is why I have to be even more so.

Miller’s face turns whiter than my sheet music. His eyes dart to me and back to the video.

“We also have a statement from the nurse detailing Miss Cooper’s injuries, as well as a corroborating medical report from the hospital. This is not an unfounded accusation. It is our responsibility to look into this case carefully and methodically. We ask for your cooperation.”

Miller’s mouth opens and closes. He looks at me again but, this time, there’s a hint of desperation. Gone is the man who swaggered into Redwood Prep demanding that heads roll.

Now he’s ready to bow.

I rise unsteadily from the desk. “Before I sign, I need to use the bathroom.”

The officer steps away to let me pass. When I’m in front of Miller, I stop to whisper, “Meet me in the hallway out front.”

His stiffening shoulders are the only indication that he heard me.

I wash my hands in the bathroom, take a few deep breaths and then meet Miller in the shadows.

His blue eyes—so much like Christa’s—are pleading. “I’m hoping you didn’t ask to meet privately because you have something over my daughter that would make this worse.”

“Relax.” I straighten my shoulders and hope my voice doesn’t tremble the way my knees are. “I want to make things better. Not worse.”

His eyes take on a skeptical sheen. “You set this up.”

“Oh no. I didn’t force your daughter to try andmurderme, Mr. Miller. That would be foolish of me.”

“You’re exaggerating.”

“This case can easily become an attempted homicidal drowning. Since Christa’s eighteen, she’d be tried in a criminal court. At worst, she’ll do a few years behind bars. At best, her chances of going to a fancy Ivy League goespoof.” I gesture with my hands.

His tongue darts out to swipe his bottom lip. His eyebrows wrinkle. “I’m willing to do anything. Just,” he waves his arms frantically, “make this go away.”

A D D# E

The swell before a lashing tsunami. A wave that’s rising and frothing at the mouth.

I feel the electricity in my bones.

“Anything?” I whisper.

“Yes. Just tell me what you want.”

“I want Dutch Cross’s head on a platter.”

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