Page 60 of Until She's Mine
“Are you threatening me?”
Claire takes a step back, wobbling slightly in her Louboutins. “I’m giving you a chance to do the right thing. But if you don’t, I’ll have no choice. I can’t let you get away with this, Evelyn.”
A clap of thunder shakes the building as she turns to leave. Claire reaches for the wall to steady herself, her other hand clutching that damned pearl necklace her mother gifted her for her eighteenth birthday.
Then—
A push. A gasp.
The sound of her stiletto slipping on the polished floor is sharp, almost musical. Time slows, each second stretching into an eternity as I watch her lose her balance. For one suspended moment, time stops—Claire’s wide blue eyes meet mine as she grabs for anything to steady herself.
Her fingers brush the windowsill.
Then nothing.
The scream is cut short by the sickening crunch of impact four stories below.
I don’t remember moving to the window. One second, I’m frozen in place, the next, I’m gripping the sill so hard my knuckles go bleach white. Claire lies sprawled on the cobblestone path, her neck bent at an impossible angle, her blood spreading in a dark pool beneath her.
One Mississippi.Her pearl necklace is broken, rolling in tiny white droplets across the pavement.
Two Mississippi.Someone screams from down below.
Three Mississippi.The first drops of rain begin to fall, diluting the blood into pink rivulets between the cobblestones.
Four. Five. Six.
At 30 seconds, I pick up my phone with numb fingers and dial 911. My voice sounds foreign to me, calm and detached, as I report the accident. “There’s been a fall. At the dormitory. Please hurry.”
The sirens wail in the distance. I stand frozen at the window, watching as people gather around Claire’s lifeless body, their faces pale and horrified. The rain falls harder now, washing away the blood but not the guilt that enters my bloodstream and poisons me from the inside out.
By the time the paramedics arrive, I’ve already begun crafting the story I’ll tell the police, my professors, and everyone who asks.
Claire was drunk. She stumbled. It was an accident. A terrible, tragic accident.
I look down at my hands, still stained with paint, and wonder if the guilt will ever wash away.
I’ve never been to a police station before.
It reeks of industrial cleaner and burnt coffee. I sit perfectly still in the hard plastic chair, my hands folded neatly on the metal table. They’ve given me a paper cup of water that I haven’t touched.
“One more time, Ms. Harper.” Detective Black flips through his notepad. “You say Ms. Vasser was suicidal?”
I nod, biting the inside of my cheek until I taste blood. “She’d been drinking. Talking about how much pressure she felt from her family.” My voice cracks beautifully. “I turned my back for a second and she... She just...”
The door bursts open before I can finish my performance.
Tobias Blackwood fills the doorway, his jeans and sweater looking like he just stepped out of a J. Crew catalog, despite the late hour. His face is a mask of concern, but his eyes scan the room with practiced ease, taking in every detail: the detective’s worn leather jacket, my trembling hands, and the untouched cup of water.
“Claire’s dead.” His voice cracks in a way that might be convincing if I didn’t see the cold calculation in his eyes.
The detective excuses himself with a muttered condolence. As soon as the door clicks shut, Tobias drops the grieving boyfriend act.
“The Vassers are flying in with their team of lawyers,” he says, rolling up his sleeves. “They’ll have this campus turned upside down by morning.”
I keep my face carefully blank. “It was an accident.”
Tobias looks at the double-sided mirror on the wall. “I’m sure it was.”
