Out of the corner of my eye, I see the news crew setting up the cameras. Fantastic—the crew has arrived just on time. I have plenty of time to do a quick interview to explain the goals of the charity, and then they can catch the beginning of the race.
About a dozen people have shown up to run today. I initially had nearly fifty people expected, but it looks like the Dawn situation has kept people home. It stings, because a larger number of participants helps to spread more awareness of the charity—but we still get the money to donate either way. This is for Amelia—I can’t forget that. And even though some of the runners stayed home, a considerable crowd is forming to watch the beginning of the race.
As I face the crowd, I force my lips to form a smile. I’m not exactly in a smiling mood, but if I keep it on my face, maybe I’ll start to feel better. I wave at the spectators, and a heavyset man wearing one of our T-shirts waves back at me.
That’s when I notice somebody behind the man. Somebody familiar. I recognize that stringy brown hair and horse face.
Is that Seth’s wife? What is she doing here?
“Hi, Natalie!” Maria Monteiro from the news team waves to me, and I’m forced to rip my eyes away from the crowd. Maria covered the race last year as well, and she looks perfectly made up in a dress suit, her black hair shiny and her lipstick blood red. “Do you have time for a quick interview before the race?”
“Absolutely!” I hesitate. “But I just want to say, I’d rather not talk about my coworker, Dawn Schiff. I know she’s been all over the news lately, but I don’t want to detract from the reason we’re running today: to raise money for cerebral palsy.”
Maria can’t hide the disappointment on her face, but to her credit, she quickly recovers. “That’s fine. I completely respect that.”
“Thanks, Maria. I appreciate it.”
I glance back at the crowd, my eyes searching for Seth’s wife again, but she seems to have vanished. Or more likely, it wasn’t her to begin with, and I’m just being paranoid. I reach behind my head to straighten out my ponytail, and I smooth out the creases on my T-shirt so viewers will be able to see the writing. Maria gestures to her cameraman, and he points the lens in my direction. Maria gets out her microphone, and I know from last year that she’ll probably record a little intro later, and then splice the whole thing together.
“So, Natalie,” she says, “this is your fifth year running this 5K, isn’t it?”
I nod and feel my ponytail swish behind my head. “That’s right. We’ll be raising money for cerebral palsy.”
“And that’s a charity very close to your heart, isn’t it?”
I nod again. “One of my best friends growing up had cerebral palsy, so this race is in Amelia’s honor.”
Maria takes back the microphone and is asking me another question, but my attention is again drawn away by something in the crowd. It’s not Melinda Hoffman this time though—I wish it were. Two of the spectators step aside to allow a large man with black eyes to come to the forefront of the crowd.
It’s Santoro.
Maria has pushed the microphone back in my face, and I realize I have no idea what she just asked me. “Um,” I say. “Sorry, I…”
How embarrassing. Thankfully, none of this is live. When this video gets edited, she can cut out the part where I wasn’t listening to her question.
“It looks like things are getting started soon,” Maria observes. “I’ll let you get to it then. But thank you for what you’ve done.”
“Yes…”
Santoro is moving forward, coming closer to me. What’s going on? He doesn’t want to grill me again right before the 5K, does he? This is a charity event. Doesn’t the man have any respect?
“Caleb!” I crane my neck, searching for my boyfriend. I spot him a few yards away. “Caleb, can I talk to you?”
Maybe Caleb can deal with this detective till we’re done here. I’ve got way too much to do. The race is starting in less than fifteen minutes, so I don’t have time to answer the same questions over and over. They even searched my house. What more do they want from me, for God’s sake?
When I turn my head back to look, Santoro is right in front of me. Less than a foot away. His eyes look like endless pools of darkness. Instinctively, I take a step back.
“Detective, this isn’t a good time—”
“Natalie Farrell.” His voice is flat. “You’re under arrest for the murder of Dawn Schiff.”
What?
I feel like I can’t breathe. Those damn cameras are still pointed at me. Not to mention that half the crowd has gotten out their phones and is filming me. That bastard Santoro did this on purpose. He chose the most public moment possible to arrest me. He wants to humiliate me, even though I’ve done nothing wrong.
Maybe he’s the one who planted that ceramic turtle in my laundry.
“You’re joking me,” I sputter. “How could you… I didn’t do anything! What is this based on?”
But Santoro isn’t offering an explanation. And this is not a joke. He takes out his handcuffs, and before I know it, he’s snapping them on my wrist. The cold metal bites into my skin, and my legs turn to liquid beneath me. I’m vaguely aware of the fact that he’s reading me my rights.
Caleb has sprinted over. I catch his eye, and he looks completely horrified. “Natalie!” I hear him yell.
“Caleb,” I gasp. The crowd is growing louder and dozens of cameras are trained on me. “That address I showed you. You’ve got to go there for me. Please!”
“Natalie…”
“Please!” I manage.
Santoro jerks me by the arm. He’s leading me to a police car to bring me back to the station and toss me in jail. There’s nothing I can do to stop this anymore. I don’t know why, but somebody has framed me, and they have done a really good job.
My life, as I knew it, is officially over.
Part II
Chapter Forty-Five
DAWN
One of the scariest animals in the world is the soft-shelled turtle.
They don’t look that scary. They don’t even have the traditional turtle shell. They look a bit like a pancake with a head and legs sticking out. But don’t be fooled—they can be deadly. They hide in the sand, not moving an inch, waiting patiently for their prey. Ready to strike with their razor-sharp beak.
That’s what it takes to catch your prey. Patience.
We can all learn a lot from the soft-shelled turtle.
I’ve been watching the news all morning. Over and over.
I can’t get enough of it. That moment when the detective steps out of the crowd and tells Natalie she’s under arrest. The horrified look on her face as he snaps the cuffs onto her wrists. The camera crew was there to record the 5K, but they got more than they bargained for. They got the biggest story on the south shore.
I wish I still had my phone. I bet there are videos of Natalie’s arrest all over YouTube, and I could watch them over and over and over until my eyes bleed. But I had to leave my phone behind at my house. There was no other choice.