The Similars (The Similars #1)(53)

I shake my head. “No. Even if that’s possible, he didn’t know Prudence. Why hurt her?”

“That’s not entirely true, Emmaline,” Ransom says. “Don’t forget he has a friend who shares Prudence’s every feature.”

“Pippa? You think Levi attacked Prudence because of something that had to do with her Similar?”

Ransom sighs, leaning back against his tufted chair. It squeaks from his body weight. “Is that so out of the question?”

I tense, remembering everything I’ve learned about the clones today.

“Sir,” I say, breathless. “Do you still trust them? The Similars, I mean?”

Ransom studies me. If my question has ruffled him, he doesn’t let it show. “I invited them to Darkwood, didn’t I?”

“Yes,” I say. “But…” I stop myself. Should I say this? Is it the right thing to do? “But, sir, what if I told you they are not as they first appear? They have special abilities…”

Ransom doesn’t answer me immediately. Finally, he speaks. “Emmaline, excuse me if I’m overstepping, but would I be wrong to point out that you’ve had quite a challenging year? First Oliver’s death, then Prudence’s attack…”

I nod.

Ransom continues, “Let me give you some advice, if I may. Go back to your room. Get some rest. There isn’t anything you can do for Prudence that her father isn’t already doing. As for who did this to her, it is not your job to identify the perpetrator. Leave that to the police. Or to Prudence, when she wakes up from her coma, God willing.”

I want to heed Headmaster Ransom’s advice. I want nothing more than to return to my room and sleep like my peers. I look at the empty glass in my hands. I’m suddenly so incredibly tired and so strangely calm. Ransom walks me to the front door, exhorting me to return to Cypress safely. When I get back to my room, I fall straight into bed. I sleep soundly. I don’t dream.

The next morning, I am inexplicably lighter. My talk with Ransom has made me feel, in some way, less alone. I’m still worried about Pru and more than a little disturbed by what I’ve learned about the Similars, but having Ransom in my corner is a relief. I’m not expecting it when two police officers corner me on my way to breakfast.

“Emmaline Chance?” asks a female officer. I recognize her from the clearing, from the day Pru was rushed to the hospital. A male cop is with her. He is silent, middle-aged, balding.

“Yes?”

“In light of new developments in the case, we’ve received permission from Headmaster Ransom to question you about the events of September fifteenth. The day you found Prudence Stanwick unconscious in the boathouse.”

“You are not a suspect in the case,” the male cop reassures me. “But we’d like to get your perspective on the events of that day.”

“To help us piece together what happened,” the female cop adds gently.

“There’s nothing to tell,” I say, feeling my cheeks flushing with heat. “I was priming the side wall of the boathouse. Levi and I were working together when someone screamed. We ran inside and found my roommate, Prudence.”

“We’d like to walk down to the boathouse with you,” the female cop says. “Have you take us through that afternoon, step by step. It is your right to have a parent present—”

I stop her right there. No need to call my father. I know what I will tell them: the truth. My father being here won’t change that.

Still, dread begins in my toes and travels up my spine. There can only be one reason they are here asking me these questions. One of us is a suspect. And if they say it’s not me, then it’s Levi.

*

Returning to the boathouse is painful. It brings back memories of that afternoon. I expected yellow police tape to circle the canoe where I found Pru’s body, but apparently the police have collected whatever evidence and photographs they needed. It is no longer a crime scene.

Still, the officers interrogate me for nearly an hour. They ask where I was standing, where Levi was standing. What we were doing and when. Where exactly I stood when I discovered Pru. How Levi reacted. I remind them that Levi carried Prudence all the way to safety. All he wanted was to help her, I explain. And yet, when they ask me whether it’s possible that Levi could have slipped away while I was lost in thought, and—by my own admission—avoiding talking to him because of his resemblance to Oliver, I have to confess that yes, it was.

“So you admit that you couldn’t see Levi the entire time you were painting?” asks the male cop.

“I was looking at the wall, so no, I wasn’t looking at him the entire time.”

“He wasn’t always in your line of sight, then?” the female cop prods.

“I already told you. No. That doesn’t mean he had time to go and attack Prudence…”

“It might not be probable. But if it’s at all possible…”

“Then what? You’ll arrest him?” I say, my voice hot.

“Not without proper evidence, no,” says the male cop. “Both of your fingerprints were all over this boathouse. But that’s not enough for us to go on—not yet.”

“This has been helpful, Ms. Chance,” the female cop says with finality. “More than you know. We’ll spend a few more minutes here, but you are free to go.”