“Why did you do it, Brianne? There’s no use denying what I know. Plus, I’m on your side,” I tell her. “If you knew enough to frame Nicole, you obviously know what she did to me, and that Chace and I weren’t really together in the end. You can have my silence—if you just tell me why.”
Brianne’s eyes dart between me and the door, and I hold my breath, waiting for her to crack. When she finally speaks, her voice is markedly different from the girl I go to school with and thought I knew. Her tone is flat and harsh, her eyes deadened, like whatever bit of soul she had left just slipped away.
“He ruined it. Chace Porter ruined everything.”
“What did he do?” I urge her on.
She sinks to the floor, the fight draining from her as she buries her head against her knees.
“You don’t know what JJ—Justin—meant to me. He was my everything. We were supposed to move in together after graduation, we had all these plans. And then he just up and disappeared a year ago. He broke up with me with no explanation. I went crazy wondering. I never got over it.” Brianne meets my eyes. “I finally heard from him two weeks ago. He must have felt guilty for ignoring all my texts and emails, because he—he came to visit me and eventually told me everything, how Chace’s parents bribed the Jensens into making Justin take the blame for a car accident Chace caused. He didn’t just disappear on me. He was sent to juvie.” Brianne wipes her eyes roughly. “I thought maybe we could start things up again and that’s why he was back, but no. Justin was leaving me again. His parents found a way for him to have a fresh start and a clean reputation—in Canada. I offered to go with him, but he said no, that he was only here for a proper goodbye, to give me closure.” She spits the word.
“So then what?” I prod. “You decided to take your anger out on Chace?”
Brianne shakes her head wildly.
“I didn’t plan anything. It—it was an accident. I went to the party to confront Chace, and then I saw the knife in Tyler’s kitchen and figured I’d just—I don’t know, scare Chace a little, get him to call the police and clear Justin’s name so he could come home and be with me again. But then when I told him what I knew and he admitted it all, something in me just…” Brianne swallows hard. “Snapped. I got so angry seeing him standing there, the so-called star of the school who made the past year hell for Justin and me. I’d never experienced anger like that in my life.” Brianne’s voice lowers to a chilling whisper. “I didn’t even see the knife go in. It just…happened.”
I close my eyes, digging my fingernails into my palm as I try to fight the sickening images playing in my mind.
“And how—how did you know to frame Nicole for it?” I ask, forcing myself to continue drawing the story out of her. “I saw you getting fingerprinted. How did you pull this off ?”
Brianne narrows her eyes.
“I’m not an idiot. I knew to hold the knife through a napkin so I wouldn’t get my prints on it. And I’m also not as slow as Nicole thought. It was clear what was going on between them. The only times Chace ever spoke to me was to ask about her, and then there was your mysterious falling-out. It was so obvious.” Brianne looks away. “I didn’t set out to hurt Nicole, but I had to protect myself. She was the obvious suspect. Plus, if anyone can understand putting yourself first, it’s Nicole. She just takes everything, from the Philharmonic showcase and Juilliard, to your boyfriend.” Brianne gives me a meaningful look, as if the two of us are in this together, and it’s all I can do to refrain from hitting her.
“Well, I guess you’re about to find out how understanding she and everyone else will be.”
Brianne’s head whips up.
“What?”
“Right about now!” I shout my cue, and the door flies open. I stifle a smile as Detective Kimble, Officer Ladge, and two backup cops march into the room.
“You—you set me up!” Brianne shrieks, her mouth falling open in disbelief.
“You have the right to remain silent,” Detective Kimble begins to recite as Officer Ladge pins her to the wall. I grab my iPhone from the bedside drawer.
“Here.” I hand it to the detective as the cops drag Brianne out of the room, screaming in protest. “I recorded her confession.”
Detective Kimble places her hand on my shoulder, looking into my eyes.
“You did a very good thing, Lana. Because of you, an innocent girl is being set free.”
“I know,” I reply. “I never imagined I’d ever want to help Nicole Morgan. But I’m glad I did it.”
And I’m glad, too, that Nicole was right about me. I’m not a monster. And now I’m letting all of this go. For good.
I can hear them leading her to her cell. Her chains jangle as she flails and kicks, her screams penetrating the walls. A girl like Brianne Daly, from a proper, upper-class family, never imagined herself in a place like this, and she’ll never stop fighting it. But this is one fight she’ll lose. If there’s anything I can trust, it’s that the Porters will stop at nothing to ensure their son’s killer stays behind bars.
“Miss Morgan? It’s time.”
I glance up and smile. Wes, the only friendly guard on the prison’s staff, is the one escorting me out today.
I rise to my feet, closing my eyes and letting the relief flood through me, as Wes opens the door to my cell. I follow him out and I don’t look back.
My breath is lodged somewhere between my heart and my throat as we walk through the corridor of cells, and I wonder if I’m going to see her. That’s when I hear a guttural cry, and I turn.
Brianne’s hands grip the bars of her cell. Her body shudders as she watches me, walking out a free woman.
“How could you do it, Brianne?” I whisper. This truth is too painful. “How?”
But she doesn’t answer. Wes gently pushes me forward, leaving everything that’s rotten behind.
There’s a swarm of reporters waiting as I appear at the top of the jailhouse stairs, ready to descend to my freedom. But this time, I’m not hiding from their flashbulbs or shouted questions. I break into a smile when I see Mom and John Sanford, Mom leaping up the steps two at a time to get to me, and I fling myself into her arms.
“My client would like to make a statement,” John Sanford says, after I give him a nod to let him know I’m ready.
An uncharacteristic hush comes over the crowd. Dozens of microphones point in my direction. I take a deep breath.
“I want to thank the people who believed in my innocence. It was easy for so many of you to assume I was guilty, just because I maybe looked the part, or because I come from a single-parent home, or that I was the so-called jilted lover, or whatever stereotypes were being tossed around. But the snap judgments were all so wrong.” I meet the eyes of the different reporters and am gratified to see a few of them looking away in chagrin. “Yet I made a mistake in judgment, too. The friend I trusted most is the one who did the unthinkable—while the last person I expected to help me is the one who proved my innocence. I want to thank Lana Rivera, with all my heart.”
There’s a smattering of applause, and I smile.
“For the last few weeks, you’ve known me as someone I’m not. ‘The Girl in the Picture,’ or ‘The Phantom of the Philharmonic.’ It’s a joke to all of you, but this is my life. And from now on, I’m determined that you will know me for the right reasons. For my music.”
As I finish, a breeze wraps me in its embrace. And I know it’s him—saying goodbye.
I can still see her sometimes. I may have passed on and stepped through the proverbial pearly gates, but a part of me is still back there with her. I know she feels me, too. I can tell by the way she looks up to the sky when she plays her violin. Like she knows I’m there—like she’s playing for me.
Even up here it’s possible to torture myself, obsessing over what might have been if we had all simply told the truth from the beginning. If Nicole had admitted her feelings for me from the start, we could have been together from day one. If I had gone against my parents a
nd told the truth about the car accident, I would still be alive. But then I never would have gone to Oyster Bay. That’s the rub. I wouldn’t have met her.
My Nicole is a star now, playing to ever-growing crowds. Sometimes her old friend Damien Bell joins her on cello; other times she plays alongside a world-famous musician, like the pianist Grigory Sokolov. But it doesn’t matter who’s onstage with her—she’s the one they’re all looking at.
No matter what kind of concert it is, Nicole always, without fail, plays the songs she knows I want to hear. “Tomorrow Is My Turn.” “Lovesong.” “Summertime.” Those are for me. They’re ours.
One day, many years from now, I know we’ll be together again. Until then, I wait.
I listen.
Acknowledgments
None of this would be possible without the love, support, and encouragement of my incredible parents: my father, aka my first and forever love (FAFL!), Shon Saleh, and my mother/best friend/angel on earth, ZaZa Saleh. I am so grateful to you both for going above and beyond to nurture my dreams ever since I was a little girl, and for your constant belief in me. Thank you for reading every draft of my every idea, for being the best parents and friends I could wish for, and for giving me a life filled with love.
To the readers: Thank you for bringing meaning to my every story. This is for you!
It’s such a wonderful feeling to be publishing my fourth novel, and I have two amazing women to thank for this dream come true: my editor, Krista Vitola, and publisher, Beverly Horowitz. Thank you for steering me so wisely, and for believing in Girl in the Picture when it was just a seed of an idea. Beverly, your continued support and guidance truly means the world. Krista, your editorial brilliance helped me take this book so many notches above the first draft, and I’m grateful to work with someone as smart and talented as you. Book #4 has been a blast—I can’t wait for our next one!
Thank you to everyone at Penguin Random House who has blessed this book with their skills: Dan for stunning cover design, Annette Szlachta-McGinn and Colleen Fellingham for their copyediting wizardry, Marketing and Cassie McGinty in Publicity for spreading the word about the book, and Jocelyn Lange for bringing it to foreign shores. I am thankful for all of you!
Many thanks to the world’s best agents: Greg Pedicin, Joe Veltre, and Lynn Fimberg at Gersh. I am so grateful for your support and guidance with all the projects cooking in my brain! You guys are wizards. And thank you to my awesome lawyer, Chad Christopher, who not only introduced me to this dream team but is also such an invaluable part of it.
Brooklyn Weaver, I can’t thank you enough for reading this book and deciding to sign me and change my life. Thank you for dreaming big dreams for my writing and pushing to make them come true! I’m forever grateful, and so happy to be with Energy Entertainment!
Thank you to the booksellers and librarians across the country who shared my books with readers and invited me to visit. I couldn’t do any of this without all of you!
Many thanks to my fellow YA authors, especially Kara Thomas, for honoring me with a wonderful blurb, and Jessica Brody, Colleen Houck, and Amy Plum for being so vocally supportive of my books—it means a lot coming from you writing dynamos!
So much love and thanks to my truly awesome big brother, Arian Saleh, for fostering my imagination while at the same time keeping me grounded with your love and friendship. And thank you for giving me a sister I adore, Sainaz Saleh!
To my incredible family, the Salehs and Majidis—I love you beyond words! And lots of love to my in-laws, Dottie and the Robertiellos!
To my family members in heaven: Papa and Mama Monir, Jimmy, and Honey: I love you forever and am so grateful for your influence on my life.
So much love and thanks to my honorary big sister (and maid of honor!), Brooke Kaufman Halsband. Your belief in me all those years ago was a life-changer, and there aren’t enough words in the dictionary for how grateful I am for your unwavering support and your incredible heart!
Heather Holley: producer, songwriting partner, kindred spirit, friend, and matchmaker! From the day we met, my world grew so much bigger, and I am so thankful for you.
Josh Bratman, thank you for championing my writing in such a huge way and helping me make one of my biggest dreams come true. I’m a better writer because of your insightful notes, and a happier human thanks to having you, Alex, Jordy, and the Bratman kids in my life.
Special thanks to Alex, Josh, and Jordy Bratman for your wonderful friendship and support. You guys are like family, and I thank you for welcoming me into yours!
Thank you to Chessa Donaldson for reading practically everything I’ve written since we met, and for your helpful feedback! Lots of love to you and Ross, as well as Dan and Heather Kiger, Jon and Emily Sandler, Alex and Lisa Tse, Mike and Seema Pietrocarlo, and the rest of the amazing group that I’m so lucky to have married into.
Many thanks to my girls for your incredible friendship and for encouraging all my projects and dreams. Mia Antonelli, you are a true MVP when it comes to friendship! Roxane Cohanim and Adriana Ameri, the fact that we grew up together and have stayed so close is one of the most special things in life. Kirsten Guenther, Marise Freitas, Ami and Mayu McCartt, Camilla Moshayedi, Dani Cordaro, Christina Harmon—I love and thank you all!
And to the person who has my heart forever, my husband, Chris Robertiello: you are a constant reminder that dreams come true. I am so grateful for you, and for our beautiful life together with Daisy!
About the Author
ALEXANDRA MONIR is the author of the popular time-travel YA novel Timeless, as well as its sequel, Timekeeper, and a romantic thriller, Suspicion. She is also a professional recording artist and composer. Alexandra and her husband live in Los Angeles, where she is at work on her next novel while also composing an original musical. Her music is available on iTunes, and you can follow her on Twitter at @TimelessAlex.
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Alexandra Monir, The Girl in the Picture
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