Chapter 21: Two Years

The girl on Beacon Hill played me the message at midnight, on her father's porch.

Shane's voice came out of her phone, dated three weeks before the party.

"Lena will be gone by Christmas," he said. "Nobody questions a woman with her history."

I sent all forty messages to the detective before dawn.

They were the last nail in his case.

In February, Brynn stood before a judge in a gray jail uniform.

The courtroom was full.

Reporters filled the back two rows, because the ballroom confession had been on every channel for a month.

I sat on the aisle with Malcolm beside me.

Dad sat one row behind us with his hat in his hands.

Shane's mother sat alone at the far end of our bench.

Nobody sat on the defense side behind Brynn.

I looked.

Not one friend, not one cousin, not one woman who had held a champagne flute at her fitting.

"Ms. Holloway," the judge said. "You have pleaded guilty to conspiracy to commit assault, two counts of reckless endangerment and obstruction.

"Do you have anything to say before I sentence you?"

"No, Your Honor."

"The court has read your statement. You gave this office every text, every date and every word of what Mr. Whitaker told you."

"Yes."

"You also stood before three hundred people and said it aloud, when no one required you to."

"Yes."

The judge folded her hands.

"That is the only reason you will not serve longer," she said.

"You knew that railing was cut. You tried to steer your own stepsister toward it.

"That is not a small thing, and I will not call it one."

Brynn said nothing.

"Two years in the state prison, followed by three years of probation. You will testify at Mr. Whitaker's trial."

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