7th October, 2015 (Two Days after the Murder).

10:30 AM.

Detective McNeil walked to the newly placed evidence board in his office, as he reviewed the facts of the case. Right at the center, was Bethany's smiling face. The picture had been taken a week before her death, and it chilled him that she was smiling, not aware of the gruesome fate that awaited her. Her hair was placed in a low side ponytail, and the sun reflected on her face beautifully.

Sherlyn was expected after her classes, and he was anxious to interview her. They had retrieved Bethany's belongings from school and her home; books, personal items, to see if what happened to her that night could be uncovered. The DNA from the skin cells found under her nails were still being examined to determine who she may have had a physical altercation with before her death.

So far, the more he uncovered about Bethany, the more his theories about what happened that night increased. She was a girl of many secrets, who played people like a fiddle. Finding a motive was not difficult, almost everyone in town had one. But who had the opportunity? Nathan's story had checked out, as the maids at his house testified the cat had a tendency to be violent. His fight with the player on the team was also witnessed by the entire football and cheerleading teams. Ian felt like he was back to square one. The only new information had come from the analysis of the scene. From the information recorded, Bethany's body had fallen to the ground during the walk from the highway to the lake.

It could have been possible that the body was too heavy at a point. Was the culprit someone aged perhaps? Or a woman? No. He was almost certain it was a man.

For days, other police officers had been questioning townsfolk who may be related to the case, but there had been no headway. He had to admire them for their tenacity because he had low expectations of them previously. They were shocked that a crime could happen in their city, and were pulling their weight to bring the killer to justice.

His phone rang, which distracted him from his thoughts. He picked it up immediately.

Detective McNeil," he answered curtly.

"This is Alyson," said the smooth, euphonious voice on the other side of the line.

He sat up immediately, "Hey. How are you?" he asked. He could not help the way his stomach clenched in anticipation. It had been so long they spoke on the phone, that the giddiness anytime he heard her voice was almost forgotten.

"I hope I'm not bothering you?" she asked hesitatingly.

"Of course not," he quickly replied.

You could never bother me, he wanted to add, but held his tongue. There was too much painful history between them.

"I just called to find out if there is anything new on the case?"

"No, we've been interviewing persons of interest, but we've not come up with anything," he replied, a little disappointed. He was not sure what to expect as her reason for calling, but he certainly did not expect her to be so impersonal.

"Okay keep me posted," she said.

"Yeah I wi -," he was cut off abruptly as she hung up.

By 3:22 PM, Sherylyn walked into his office. She was in her cheerleading outfit, with bright pink sneakers, and a nude colored purse. She sat down without preamble.

"I'm detective McNeil, the lead investigator on this case," Ian introduced.

"I know. Let's get this over with," she replied. Ian noted that her hair was styled just as Bethany's had been in the photo he had of her - with a low ponytail at her left side. Sherylyn seemed like someone who looked up to Bethany a lot, to the point of imitation.

"You want something to drink?" he offered.

"I'm good."

"Okay. Tell me about your relationship with your best friend before she died. How close were you?" he asked.

"Pretty close. But she was someone who kept her cards to her chest. There are some things I didn't know about her."

"Like what?"

"She knew a lot about almost everyone at school. I always wondered how she got her info."

"She never let anything slip?"

"No," she replied. Ian saw that her eyes kept flicking to the evidence board, which was now covered with a black cloth. Her brown hands were wound tightly together, her nails digging into her palm.

"When was the last time you saw her?"

"Three days ago, after class."

"How was she on the squad?"

"She was a perfectionist, and kept everyone on their toes," she replied slowly, like she was thinking carefully about her next words.

"Did the other cheerleaders like her?"

"No."

"What of the coach? Did she agree with Bethany's iron fisted methods?"

"We won competitions, so I guess to her, the end justified the means," Sherylyn said.

"You also worked together correct? What was her relationship like with other employees?" he asked.

She was quiet for a while, "They generally stayed out of her way."

"What of her employer?"

"Fat Mo was creepy, and sleazy, but generally harmless," she replied. She was giving short clipped answers; Ian arrived at two conclusions - she either was not much of a talker, or she was afraid of saying something incriminating.

"What was your relationship like with her boyfriend?" he asked.

"I was never involved with him. I liked him but he didn't reciprocate." Her reply was even more measured than before.

"That seems like motive to me don't you think? Bethany gets out of the way and her boyfriend comes running to you. It's a win-win situation," he said as he watched her eyes go cold.

"I would never do that to a friend," she said offended.

"What if you didn't consider her a friend?" he asked. Her eyes grew colder, but she did not respond.

"Where were you on the night Bethany died?" he asked.

"I was with Nathan... He texted me to come over. I admit I thought it was a booty call and wanted to sleep with him, but he didn't bite."

"So you're admitting to wanting a dead girl's boyfriend. Do you know how that makes you look?" he leaned in conspiratorially.

"There's no point lying about it because it's going to come out anyway," she replied.

"Can you show me the text?"

"Yeah," she said as she dug through her purse and handed him her phone.

'Cm ovr. I need u,' The text read. He looked at Sherylyn's face, but her expression gave nothing away.

"This text shows it was sent by 11:16 PM on the night Bethany was murdered. According to Nathan, it took a while before you showed up at his place. What took you so long?"

"I was trying not to betray my friend by sleeping with her boyfriend."

"But you went there anyway."

"Yeah," she replied, without an ounce of regret.

"What happened when you got there?"

"We kissed. We didn't go further because he started crying and was feeling guilty. I couldn't go back because it was late, so I spent the night at his place."

"Do you mind giving us a sample of your DNA? We need to run it with the sample extracted from Bethany."

"No."

"No?" Ian asked, even though he would have been more surprised if she had agreed.

"No, you are not going to have my DNA on your record. You want it so bad? Get a warrant," she replied.

"Fair enough. You're free to go."

She stood up without another word and walked out of his office. To Ian, Sherylyn was the fakest person he had ever met. She was fake from the top of her head, down to her pointy little sneakers. She was pretending to be someone she was not.

*****

10th September, 2015 (One Month to the Murder).

3:42 PM.

Being the daughter of the town whore, Sherylyn did not have an easy life. As the eldest child out of thirteen kids - well, technically fourteen because her mother was pregnant again - she didn't have a comfortable life either.

It was a work day, and she forgot her work sneakers at home. She would have been fine going back alone to get them, but Bethany insisted on following her. They got into her house, a dilapidated mud colored building which was located on the more run down part of the city. Sherylyn's mom was sprawled out on the couch, a bottle of beer pressed to her cracked lips.

Sherylyn felt exposed, seeing her mother like that with Bethany in the room. She tried to keep the truth about how fucked up her family was from the rest of the world, but they in turn, were determined to show how fucked up they really were. It was no secret that her mother was an unrepentant drunk, but it was haunting seeing her like that. Bethany was sure to use the new piece of information against her somehow, but she had more pressing issues to worry about. She had one goal - get in, get her shoes, then get out.

"Hey Mom," Sherylyn called out awkwardly, trying to silently convey to her to put the drink down, and act normal.

"I said call me ANNE," her mother yelled. She hated being called mom by any of her kids because it made her feel old. She stood up and walked slowly over to a chair, opening a left over pizza and stuffing it into her mouth. Her clothes were dirty, and there were dark circles under her eyes. She looked ridiculous standing there with her baby bump, as there was beer in one hand, and pizza obviously past it's prime in the other.

"Hey Anne," Bethany greeted, but Anne ignored her, and took another swig of her beer. She never hid the fact that she disliked her daughter's bitchy white friend.

"Should you be drinking? You're like 12 weeks pregnant," Sherylyn stated calmly.

"I drank when I was pregnant for you and you turned out fine," Anne replied.

"Acting all high and mighty like you ain't from the hood," she murmured as she somehow made her way back to the couch and passed out.

Sherylyn shook her head and dashed into the room she shared with five sisters, and made a grab for her shoes. She turned to leave, but Bethany quickly got in, and plopped down on one of the beds at the corner. Sherylyn would have told her that the bed was taken by two of her sisters who were chronic bedwetters, but she held her tongue.

"What are you doing? Let's go," Sherylyn said. She was desperate to get out, as her siblings would be back soon. They generally stayed out of the house until it was almost nightfall. Looking after them should have been Anne's job, but she was too irresponsible to care. The job, as a result, fell on Sherylyn, and she usually let them do their own thing, trusting they'll be back.

"Let's relax for a while. We still have a couple minutes to kill," Bethany said with a mischievous glint in her eyes. She knew Sherylyn was ashamed of her family and where she came from, and she loved seeing her uncomfortable. Her best friend was usually emotionless, and Bethany was curious at what could finally make her crack.

"Your room is so quaint. You never invite me over much. Why is that?" she asked, looking around.

"I prefer hanging out at your place," Sherylyn replied hastily.

"There's a little party tomorrow at Rick's place. You should come with me," Bethany said.

"I'll give you one of my hand-me-downs," she continued.

She crossed her legs, "Besides, Nathan will be there," she finished.

"Why are you telling me that?" Sherylyn asked.

"Because I know you have feelings for him," Bethany replied, the smile wiped from her face.

So the gloves were off.

"Aren't you threatened?" Sherylyn asked.

"No. If I'm threatened by someone as basic as you, then I should be threatened by every random hobo on the street, don't you think?"

Sherylyn just stared at her.

"Now I'm not saying this to be mean, but you are simply not good enough," she said sympathetically, as she walked towards Sherylyn and caressed her hair.

Sherylyn had been told several times that she wasn't good enough, or that she'll eventually end up an ex-convict with no life prospects. Being black and from a bad neighborhood in a predominantly white city, it was ingrained into her at an early age that if she didn't do something drastic to change that narrative, she probably will be.

It was a small city, and most people knew each other, but she still noticed how cops paid extra attention to her on the street, or how some of her white neighbors stylishly dialed 911 when they saw her approaching them. Once, in 4th grade, she was accused of stealing a classmate's lunch money, when everyone literally saw her playing at break time when the money was stolen. Her mother was called, and her pleas fell on deaf ears as she was suspended for two weeks.

It turned out the girl lied about her money being stolen, and Sherylyn's suspension was eventually overturned. She neither got an apology, nor did the little ho get punished. Sherylyn eventually put glue in her teacher's old, dingy hat, which tore her hair in patches. The teacher suspected her, but didn't have proof and never messed with her again.

The truth of the matter was that Bethany always put her down, and talked trash about her, but she put up with her because she was simply a means to an end. Being friends with Bethany certainly had its own benefits, as it got her closer to the mayor's son. No, she didn't like him, but her involvement with him, even indirectly, was a boost in her social status. Since she started hanging out with them, the suspicious looks she got when she walked down the street decreased, she got invited to dinners, and parties and soirees.

She never let an opportunity pass her by, and at those events, she absorbed their mannerisms and accents like a towel. She noticed how the high class women walked, how they talked, what cutlery they used when they ate, what they discussed, she noted them all and acted accordingly. She wanted to shed off her ebonics, so she talked like her white friends, but slowly, so she wouldn't make mistakes; she was learning after all. She did not have hopes for college, as her mom could barely send her and her numerous siblings to high school, but with the right sponsor, who knew?

She was aiming for the mayor's son for the symbol he presented. She didn't care about his looks, but they didn't hurt either. She was going to have him, or someone equally as rich, one way or another. She knew she was not as beautiful as Bethany, but she was more than endowed and Nathan was a young guy. She was sure he would fall sooner or later. If listening to the white trash put her down was the price she had to pay to achieve that, then she would pay it in full. She felt empowered because she knew something Bethany didn't, which was that she had a thick skin, and words couldn't get to her. She was too strong for that.

"Like I was saying Sheryl, he can never look at someone like you twice. Sorry," Bethany said in her high-pitched, whiny voice as she walked out the door, expecting Sherylyn to follow.

She will regret those words someday, Sherylyn thought as she followed Bethany out the door.

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