EMMA
The book lay open on my lap, its pages staring up at me blankly. I had so much to read, so much to catch up on, but the words blurred into meaningless shapes. My thoughts were racing too fast to focus.
With a frustrated sigh, I dropped the pen I'd been holding for the past five minutes and leaned back in my chair, my head hitting the wooden rest with a soft thud.
Shock didn't even begin to describe what I felt.
Last night, everything had turned upside down. Ethan was accused of being the murderer and every clue, every trail, every fragment of evidence pointed directly at him.
And yet,something about it didn't feel right.
Why, then, did my gut scream the opposite? Why did I feel an ache I couldn't explain deep down?
I wasn't a seer but I trusted my instincts. They'd carried me through storms before, and right now, they were roaring louder than ever: This didn't add up.
