Betrayal Read Online Free PDF Page B

Annie that Brianna’s phone was an extension of herself. It reminded her of her last visit to the Olive Garden in Silverdale. Two girls sat across from each other, but barely spoke. Instead, between all the breadsticks they could eat, they texted and Facebooked.
    â€œYeah, I get that,” Brianna said. “I just don’t like the way you’re treating me. You’re being inappropriate and making me uncomfortable. I know when I’m being bullied. Bullying, in case you haven’t heard, is a serious problem. I’ve watched some videos on YouTube.”
    Annie tried to ignore the remark. This girl is a self-centered, condescending brat.
    â€œAt some point in the evening,” Annie said, “Olivia went upstairs to your room? Tell me about that once more.”
    â€œShe said she was feeling sick. I don’t know why. She wasn’t that drunk. My dad’s wife, Shelley, is a total boozer. I know what wasted looks like. Are we done now?”
    Annie pushed a pad and pencil toward Brianna. “Almost,” she said. “I need a list of all the kids who attended the party.”
    â€œLook, I can give you some names but not all of them. We had some crashers. People always want to come to my parties, and when they show up uninvited, I sometimes let them in. It’s my way of giving back. You know, inspiring kids who don’t know what to aspire to.”
    Annie smiled—a forced one, but a smile nevertheless.
    Brianna jotted down a list of names, then stopped a beat. She looked Annie in the eyes before going on. “Don’t get me wrong. I like to help everyone, even those who live a little on the fringe. I don’t mind the fringe. Though, I’m sure some people do.”
    â€œWhat happened to your hand?” Annie pointed to a thin red gash on the palm of the teen’s right hand.
    â€œOh, that? That’s nothing. Paper cut,” Brianna said flatly. She looked Annie straight in the eye as if daring her to push further.
    The two sized each other up for a long minute before Annie ended the discussion.
    â€œThat’s all for now, Brianna. You can go,” Annie said.
    â€œHow am I supposed to get home?”
    â€œYou can’t go home right now. Your house is a crime scene.”
    Brianna glared at the police chief. “Great! I didn’t do anything and I can’t even go home.”
    â€œCan you stay with a friend? Drew’s folks?”
    Brianna, distracted by the vibration of her phone, shook her head. “Never mind. I’ll figure something out. I always do.”
    â€œI’m sure you will. Let me know if I can help.”
    Annie wrote down Brianna’s answers while the teenager turned her attention back to her phone and immersed herself in Twitter:
    @ police dept. Totally sux having a murder committed at your party! Please RT. #partyruinedbymurder
    After she finished, Brianna stood up, stretched, and did a couple of yoga poses in the small, cramped office.
    â€œCrap,” she said loud enough for anyone to hear. “This whole thing has really upset me. I’m completely out of it.”
    Annie watched as the teenager dropped into the Downward Dog pose. While a zillion things were competing for focus in her mind as they always did in the first moments of a criminal investigation, one thought decisively shoved all of the others aside: Who on God’s green earth does yoga when their friend has just been killed?
    AT LEAST ON THE SURFACE OF THINGS, Andrew Marcello was one of those kids others couldn’t help but envy. He had his own car, a traditional family, a nice house, and, probably most important, a hot girlfriend. His mother, Marsha, was an administrator for the North Kitsap School District and his father, Chase, was a three-term Kitsap County Superior Court judge. Although Drew spent most of his childhood in the Kingston area, there was a period of two years in which he lived in California with an aunt. He