“We’re working on getting her phone records, to see if she and Raven were in contact around the time of his release. But we have her on film entering the Holloway estate the day Evelyn was killed. There’s a camera over the front gate, and Belladonna entered the grounds at five twenty-three in the evening.”

“That was hours before Evelyn was…” Jack trailed off, her mind reeling. “Why would she sneak over so early? Did you ask her?”

“Her lawyer’s got her clammed up,” the detective said, frowning. “But her father says they had dinner together later that night, so I’m guessing she cased the joint earlier to make sure Evelyn still drank tea.”

“Is there video of her leaving?”

He shook his head. “She must’ve snuck out the back gate, then snuck back in the same way hours later.” Medina took a breath, leveling Jack with a stare. “Now do you want to recant your statement about spending the night with her?”

“I…” Did she? Once upon a time, she’d have had no trouble believing Belladonna Drake was capable of murder. Fourteen-year-old Belle had been a scrawny, feral creature, likely to scratch out the eyes of anyone who got close to Raven, whether that person was a friend or a foe. But over time Belle’s sharp edges had softened to curves, and her anger had softened too, into calm, quiet patience. Someday her beloved boy would return to her. Someday it would be safe for him to live at home.

But what if Belle found out Raven was being released from the Seven Brothers Academy and decided to make things safe for him? Jack had barely been able to stop the murder three years ago. Now she was sitting in a police station, providing an alibi for a girl who had definitely not slept beside her last night.

“If I recant my statement, what happens to Belle?”

Medina leaned in, his voice surprisingly gentle. “The prosecution’s case is solid. The flowers were found in Evelyn’s tea, just like the recipe says, and Belladonna’s history with Raven speaks to motive. If she and Raven were in contact over the past few weeks…” He frowned, shaking his head. “It doesn’t look good for her.”

Jack’s chest felt tight. “And if I stick to my original statement? Get up on the stand and swear Belle and I spent the night together?”

The detective laced his fingers together, resting his chin on his hands. “Best-case scenario, the prosecution will use your history of storytelling to get your testimony thrown out.”

“That’s the best-case scenario?” Jack felt herself sinking, and she hadn’t moved from her chair. “Dare I ask what the worst-case scenario is?”