Chapter 10 #3
So she does. And the longer she talks, the angrier I get.
Because everything that happened to Melissa—starting with the small pranks, then escalating to the setup with the drugs and the call to the police—was all a part of an elaborate game intended to mess with people the women deemed weaker than them.
Apparently, it all started a year ago when Jordan, Michelle, and Julie were at happy hour, bitching about one of their coworkers they didn’t like. Jordan was pissed that the coworker had just gotten a promotion over her, and she wanted to do something to get even with her.
“Tina was such a goody goody,” Jordan explains.
“She thought she was so perfect. But she was boring as shit. And she wasn’t even pretty.
I was mad about the promotion, and then Julie got this idea from a movie she’d seen.
We would mess with Tina to see how long it would take her to quit.
And it worked. She quit after a month. And I got the promotion. ”
From there, we hear about the specifics of the rules—the pranks had to be small at first, sort of testing the waters, so to speak.
Then the three women would try to one-up each other with better ones, like letting the air out of all Melissa’s tires, and then the post about Melissa allegedly selling drugs.
“I didn’t think she’d get hurt,” Michelle whines. “I just thought it would scare her. I thought she’d get so freaked out, she’d move out of town.”
But Mel did get hurt. Badly. And she didn’t leave town. She called me.
As Jordan, Michelle, and Julie talk over each other, suddenly eager to throw each other under the bus, Melissa speaks up for the first time since the confession started.
“Why me?” she asks quietly. “I never did anything to you. I didn’t get a promotion. I barely talked to any of you. I don’t understand why you targeted me.”
Julie looks at Melissa without a hint of remorse in her expression.
“Because you were an easy target. And even if you caught on, no one would believe you.” She smirks, oblivious to the trouble she’s in.
“I heard about what you did upstate. Losing your shit after your husband died and shooting that guy. I figured there’s no way you’d go to the police after that. And I was right.”
Hurt washes over Melissa’s face. Her chin wobbles. The officer standing next to her, who long ago released her arm, mutters, “Fuck, that’s cold.”
Mel ducks her head so no one can see her eyes. But not before I see the devastation in them. The defeat.
As I look at Mel, hunched into herself, small and vulnerable and hurting, my heart aches so badly I instinctively press my hand to my chest.
I’m beyond furious at the three heartless women who thought nothing of tormenting their unknowing victims.
But Mel.
She’s alone. And she needs me.
While Officer Stockwell is still peppering the three women with questions, I turn to the former White Plains cop and angle my chin at Melissa as I say, “I need to talk to her.”
He looks at Mel, who seems to be shrinking into herself more and more by the second.
“Yeah.” Then he catches the eye of the cop beside her and jerks his head in my direction.
The two officers share a silent exchange for a second.
Then the one by Mel nods. The guy beside me says, “Go ahead. I think it’s clear she’s not a suspect anymore. ”
Thank fuck.
On my way to Mel, I make a quick detour over to Webb and Indy. “I need to talk to her,” I tell them. “All the security footage should be on the servers in the basement.”
Indy immediately understands. “Got it,” he replies. His lips thin with anger. “That’s some real bullshit we just heard. And Mel… Shit. She didn’t deserve it.”
“No,” I agree grimly. “She didn’t.”
“Go,” Webb urges. “We’ve got it from here.”
That’s all I need to hear. Picking up my pace, I close the distance between me and Mel in several long strides. She’s still staring at the floor, so when I touch her arm, she startles.
Her eyes come to mine; pink and swollen and swimming with tears. Her face twists in misery. “Ty—”
“Ah, Mel.” I pull her away from the officer and into my arms. As she hides her face in my shoulder, I walk her over to an empty spot by the wall. Then I hug her to me, cupping her head with one hand and rubbing her back in slow circles with the other. “It’s okay, baby. It’s okay.”
She shakes her head and mumbles into my shirt, “It’s not. They hate me. They said I’m weak. That I’m crazy—” Her voice breaks.
And fuck, my heart breaks along with it.
“No, you’re not,” I croon. “You’re amazing. They’re the weak ones. Bullying other people to make themselves feel big.”
Melissa’s arms twine around me, clinging tight. Her fingers clutch at my shirt. She turns her face into my neck, and her hot tears dampen it. “Ty—” A shaky sob escapes. “I just want to go home. I want to see Oscar. Can you please…”
Protectiveness surges through me with such intensity it steals my breath. Pressing my lips to the top of her head, I tell her, “Of course, baby. We can go home.”