“I guess so,” Mac said.
Her father had jumped out of the car, too. “We came as soon as we could. What happened? The police said you broke into a house? And there’d been a murder? What’s happening to this town?”
Mac took a deep breath, saying the words she’d rehearsed for the past five minutes. “It was a big mix-up,” she said slowly. “A few friends and I thought we had some information on Nolan Hotchkiss’s death. That’s why we came to the police station. But then . . . well, then things got kind of confusing.”
Her father frowned. “Did you or did you not break into a teacher’s house?”
Mac swallowed hard. She’d been dreading this part. “We thought he was home. The door was open. We had some questions for him, about Nolan’s death.”
She lowered her eyes. Her parents had known who Nolan Hotchkiss was even before he’d died—everyone did. The Hotchkisses were wealthy and powerful, even in the influential, glamorous, perfect world of Beacon Heights. What her parents didn’t know was what Nolan had meant to Mac. Not so long ago, he’d taken Mac out on a couple of dates. Wooed her, made her feel good, lit up her life. When he’d asked for a few pictures, she hadn’t even flinched, posing behind her cello and snapping away.
Turns out he’d only wanted the pictures for a bet—which Mackenzie realized when he drove by her house with his friends, laughing and throwing money at her. Can you say humiliating nightmare?
Worse, the police had found those pictures on Nolan’s phone, which to them was as good a motive as any for Mac to have murdered Nolan. They didn’t have proof of anything yet, but still, it wasn’t good.
That was why Mackenzie and the other girls had gone to Granger’s house—to try to clear their own names. They knew that Nolan had something on Granger—something big—and thought maybe Granger killed him to keep him quiet.
Mrs. Wright held Mac at arm’s length. “You honestly thought your teacher had something to do with Nolan’s death? What kind of teacher was he?”
“Not a good one.” Mac squirmed at the thought of Granger fooling around with quite a few of his students—the Something Big that Nolan had known about. They’d discovered that when Ava found a threatening message from Nolan on Granger’s phone. Oh, and Granger had hit on Ava, too.
After they snooped through Granger’s house and found hard evidence that Nolan was blackmailing the teacher, they’d all gone to the police station together. But they hadn’t exactly gotten the warm welcome they’d expected. Granger had died just moments after they fled the scene. Ava’s boyfriend—or maybe ex-boyfriend—had seen them leaving Granger’s house and called the cops.
The mind-boggling discussion she’d just had with her friends flashed through Mackenzie’s mind. Is Granger Nolan’s killer? Caitlin had asked. Or did Nolan’s killer kill Granger, too—and make it look like us again? No one had an answer for that. It had all made sense when they thought Granger killed Nolan, but now it was clear that everything was more complicated than they’d realized.
Her father slung his arm around her and pulled her in close, yanking Mac back to the present. “Well, we believe you, and we’ll get this worked out,” he said. “I already have a call in to an old friend who’s a lawyer. I’m just sorry it happened, especially in light of all the good things going on right now.”
It took Mac a moment to realize what he was referring to: She was supposed to be celebrating her unofficial acceptance to Juilliard in New York. She’d gotten the call from her mom’s friend—who had inside information from the admissions office—two days ago, but they hadn’t really gotten to enjoy the moment. Not that Mac felt much like celebrating, since the victory was tainted by the fact that Claire Coldwell had gotten in, too.
Her dad guided her into the backseat of the car. “I’m just glad you’re okay. What if you’d been inside that house with some maniac holding a knife?”
“I know, I know,” Mac mumbled into her chest. “And I’m sorry.” But that made her wonder: If they’d remained on Granger’s property, a safe distance away, for a little while longer, would they have seen who'd snuck into his house and killed him?
She was just about to get into the car when she heard a snicker behind her. Standing across the street in her front yard was Amy something-or-other, a sophomore she knew from school. Amy was leaning against a tree, a cup of coffee in her hands, just . . . staring.
Mac put her head down. How long had the girl been watching? Had she heard about Granger? How much did she know?