Chapter Thirteen
I stood outside Evelyn's apartment building, my breath fogging in the crisp evening air. I'd been staring at the intercom for the past five minutes, debating whether I should press the button.
Evelyn wasn't someone you confronted lightly. She had a way of deflecting, twisting words until you doubted your own memory. But after what Cole told us, I couldn't avoid her any longer.
Taking a deep breath, I pressed the buzzer.
"Yeah?" Evelyn's voice crackled through the intercom.
"It's me," I said, trying to keep my tone even.
A pause. "Come up."
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When I stepped into her apartment, the smell of lavender and tobacco greeted me, an odd combination that somehow fit Evelyn perfectly. She was lounging on her couch, a glass of red wine in one hand and a cigarette in the other.
"To what do I owe the pleasure?" she asked, her tone light but her eyes wary.
I didn't bother sitting. "We need to talk. About that night."
Evelyn raised an eyebrow, blowing out a stream of smoke. "Which night, darling? You'll have to be more specific."
"Don't play games with me, Evelyn," I snapped, the frustration bubbling to the surface. "The night of the party. The one that's apparently coming back to haunt us."
Her smirk faltered, and she set her wine glass down. "I told you everything I know."
"No, you didn't," I said, crossing my arms. "Someone hired a PI to dig into what happened. They think we're hiding something, and I need to know if they're right."
Evelyn's eyes narrowed, and she stubbed out her cigarette in the ashtray. "What exactly did this PI tell you?"
"That someone died," I said bluntly. "And that whoever hired him thinks we're involved."
Her face paled, and for a moment, I thought she might actually faint.
"They're wrong," she said, her voice shaky. "We didn't kill him, Aria. You know that."
"I know we didn't push him," I said, my voice rising. "But what if there's more to this than we realized? What if something happened after we left?"
Evelyn shook her head, standing up and pacing the room. "I don't know, okay? I didn't stick around to find out. None of us did."
I grabbed her arm, forcing her to stop. "Then who was he, Evelyn? Do you even know his name?"
She stared at me, her expression unreadable.
"Evelyn," I said, my voice softer now. "Please. If you know something, tell me."
She pulled away, running a hand through her hair. "His name was James. James Holloway. He was... someone's plus-one, I think. I didn't know him, but he got into a fight with someone at the party. Things got heated, and then he... fell."
My heart sank. "Who did he fight with?"
Evelyn hesitated, her eyes darting away. "It doesn't matter. None of it does. The point is, it wasn't our fault."
"It does matter," I said firmly. "If someone thinks we're to blame, we need to know everything. Who was he arguing with, Evelyn?"
She sighed, slumping back onto the couch. "It was David."
I froze, the name hitting me like a punch to the gut. "David? As in my ex, David?"
Evelyn nodded. "They were arguing about something—drugs, maybe? I don't know. But David was the last person James talked to before it happened."
The room felt like it was spinning. David. Of course it had to be him.
"Why didn't you tell me this before?" I asked, my voice shaking.
"Because I didn't think it mattered!" Evelyn snapped. "We were kids, Aria. We made a mistake, but we didn't kill anyone. What good would dredging this up do now?"
I stared at her, my chest heaving with anger and fear.
"It matters because someone thinks we're guilty," I said. "And if we don't figure out the truth, they're going to destroy our lives."
Evelyn lit another cigarette, her hands trembling. "Then what do you want to do?"
I turned toward the door, my mind racing. "I need to talk to David."
Evelyn's voice stopped me before I could leave. "Be careful, Aria. David's not the same guy he used to be. You don't know what you're walking into."
I didn't respond, slamming the door behind me as I left.
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