Chapter 7
The coffee shop was nearly empty at 4 PM on a Tuesday. I'd chosen a table near the back, away from windows, where I could see the entrance. Mira arrived exactly on time, her backpack slung over one shoulder, her expression unreadable.
"Hey." She slid into the seat across from me, and didn't order anything.
"Hey." I pushed a cup toward her. "Got you your usual. Caramel macchiato, extra shot."
She looked at it but didn't touch it. "Thanks."
The silence stretched between us, taut as a wire. I waited. Let her make the first move. Information gathering started with listening.
"So," she said finally. "How are you holding up? With everything?"
"I'm managing. It's been hard, but…" I shrugged. "Life goes on, right?"
"Right." Her fingers drummed against the table. "Detective James talked to me. About that Monday."
"He mentioned that."
"I told him you were in a study group." She met my eyes. "Like you asked."
"Because I was."
"Were you?" The question hung in the air between us. "Because I've been thinking about that day a lot, Ileh. And some things don't add up."
My pulse quickened, but I kept my expression curious, slightly confused. "What do you mean?"
"You texted me at 3:47 saying you'd be late. That you were grabbing coffee." She pulled out her phone, scrolled through messages. "But you didn't show up until 6:30. That's almost three hours, Ileh. For coffee?" I could practically feel the exasperation.
"I got distracted, I walked around. I needed to clear my head, midterms were stressing me out."
"For three hours? In the rain?" She leaned forward. "And when you showed up, you were soaking wet. Like, drenched. Your jacket was dripping, your hair was plastered to your face. You looked..." She paused. "You looked terrified."
"I got caught in the downpour. Obviously."
"The rain didn't start until after five that day. I remember because I almost brought an umbrella but didn't. It was sunny when I got to the library."
Damn. I hadn't checked the weather timeline carefully enough. Amateur mistake. "I left later than I thought," I said, keeping my voice steady. "Must have been closer to five when I left home. The rain hit while I was walking."
"From where? Your house is a fifteen-minute bus ride. Even if you walked the whole way, that's forty-five minutes, maybe an hour. Not enough time to explain..."
"Mira." I let a note of hurt enter my voice. "What are you asking me?"
She sat back and studied me. "I'm asking if you're lying to me. And more importantly, I'm asking if you're lying to the police."
"Why would I lie?"
"That's what I'm trying to figure out." Her voice dropped lower. "Because the Ileh I know doesn't lie. The Ileh I know is meticulous, organized and always has her life together. But the Ileh who showed up that day..." She shook her head. "That Ileh was falling apart. And ever since Chance died, you've been different. Jumpy. Distant. Like you're constantly looking over your shoulder."
I took a sip of my coffee, buying time to calculate my response. She didn't know, not for certain. She was fishing, just like Detective James. But she knew enough to be dangerous.
"Chance's death has been hard on me," I said quietly. "We weren't close anymore, but we used to be. And knowing that she died alone, that maybe if I'd reached out more…" I let my voice crack slightly. "I feel guilty, Mira. Maybe that's what you're seeing."
"Is that all it is? Guilt?"
"What else would it be?"
She leaned forward, her eyes searching mine. "Did you see her that day, Ileh? Did you go to her house?"
The direct question. The moment of truth. I could either deny it completely or admit to something small and controllable. I chose option three.
"Why are you asking me this?" I let confusion and hurt color my tone. "Do you think I had something to do with what happened to her?"
"I don't know what to think." Her voice wavered. "I don't want to believe…but nothing makes sense. The timeline doesn't work. Your story keeps changing in little ways. And Detective James, he keeps asking about you specifically. Like he suspects something."
"So you think I killed her." I said it flat, emotionless. Let the absurdity of the accusation hang between us.
"I didn't say that."
"But you're thinking about it." I stood up. "I thought you were my friend, Mira. I thought you trusted me."
"I do trust you. That's why I'm asking. That's why I'm talking to you first instead of going straight to the detective." She grabbed my wrist. "Please, Ileh. If something happened, if there's something you need to tell me…I want to help. But I can't help you if you won't be honest."
I looked down at her hand on my wrist, then back up at her face. Saw the genuine concern there, mixed with suspicion and fear. She wanted to believe I was innocent, she was desperate to believe it. That was something I could use.
I sat back down slowly. "There's nothing to tell. I wasn't there. I didn't see her. And I don't know why Detective James is so focused on me, but I'm starting to think maybe I need a lawyer." I met her eyes. "Because if my own best friend doesn't believe me, how is a jury going to?"
Her face crumpled. "I didn't mean…"
"It's fine." I pulled my wrist free gently. "I get it. It looks bad. But looking bad isn't the same as being guilty."
"I know. I'm sorry. I just..." She rubbed her face. "This whole thing has me messed up. Chance is dead, you're acting weird, the police are snooping around school. Nothing feels normal anymore."
"I know." I softened my voice. "And I'm sorry I've been distant. This whole situation…it's getting to me. But I promise you, Mira, I had nothing to do with what happened to Chance."
The lie came out smooth as silk. She nodded slowly, but I could see the doubt lingering in her eyes. She wanted to believe me. But she didn't. Not entirely. "Okay," she said finally. "Okay."
We sat in silence for another minute, the coffee between us going cold. "I should get home," I said. "Mom wants to go over housing applications."
"Yeah. Sure." She gathered her things. "Ileh?"
"Ye?"
"If you ever need to talk. About anything. I'm here."
"I know. Thanks."
I watched her leave, then sat alone for another five minutes, thinking. She knew. Maybe not all of it, maybe not the specifics, but she knew something was wrong. And now she was a liability.
Not an immediate threat, she'd been my friend for three years, that loyalty would hold for a while. But if Detective James pushed harder, if more evidence surfaced, would she crack? Would she tell him about the wet clothes, the inconsistent timeline, the three missing hours?
I pulled out my phone and opened my encrypted notes.
New liability: Mira suspicious. Knows about the timeline gap. Confronted but backed down.
I'd have to be more careful around her. Maybe pull back slightly, create some distance. Make it seem natural, stressed about college, dealing with grief, needing space.
But not too much distance. If I cut her off completely, she'd definitely go to Detective James.
I was running out of room to maneuver.