The Tape Chapters 1-4

this is a rough ROUGH draft, please give any suggestions!!

09-03-10_2:45 PM
LOCATION:
PORTER RIDGE HIGH
MRS. LAWSON’S CLASS

Let’s start from the beginning…
         It was a while ago but I remember it like it was yesterday. It was a normal day, we were in school….          

         “Mia! Ari! Stop talking! I’m not gonna tell you again,” our tenth-grade Biology teacher, Mrs. Lawson, says. She takes a sheet of paper from the stack in her arms and slips one onto each desk. She’s a tall thin woman with short black hair cut at an angle across her cheeks and glasses that covered her dark brown eyes. Mia rolls his eyes and slumps back in his seat with an exaggerated sigh. I laugh. Mrs. Lawson hates her fourth block class, ours. Mia always said it was because her coffee ran out at the end of the day.
         “Okay! Your new project is to find a naturally occurring organism, plant or animal, and record their movements or functions over a period of 48 hours. And no, it cannot be your pet cat or dog, that’s too domestic. Let’s keep this interesting people!” she says leaning against her desk and facing the class with an apathetic glance.
         “Everyone got that?” she asks, as if anyone were listening. I turn in my seat to take a look at the class too. Nothing. A muffled bell echoes through the classroom walls and the class suddenly awakes. Everyone stands and quickly gathers their things. I grab my backpack and hoist it over my shoulder, gripping my papers in my hand.
         Mia Diaz is my best friend. We’ve lived only a block away from each other for at least five years now, which automatically makes us partners for this project. We rush out the school doors with everyone else and make our way down the side of the school. A black Iron Gate separating school grounds from the sidewalk following Taylor’s Street, where Mia and I walked every day to get to our homes. Large trees shadowed the sidewalk from the heat of the sun as we walk. The houses ride low to the ground all the way down our street, each with about an acre or grass surrounding it, mine included.
         “So I was think’n we could tape that bird nest down my sidewalk,” I say, trying to walk, read and talk all at the same time.
         “What birds nest?” Mia asks, looking into the lens of our video camera.
         “The one by Hick’s house, you know…” I say.
         “Oh yeah! The blue eggs nest,” he’s pointing the camera down the street, probably at the groups of kids walking home. “Hey you think we’ll get extra credit if they hatch?”
         I know he’s kidding but it’s a good thought. We could use the credit, Mia especially. Biology isn’t his strong suit. “Probably,” I shrug.
         
We set up the video camera in a branch, facing down towards the nest. Most of the leaves have fallen from the trees, which makes it easier for us to tape the camera to the branch. “Make sure it’s on,” Mia says, helping from the ground. I lean my leg on the branch below me and stretch closer to the camera to check the shot. The nest can be seen in the far left, and the street clearly in the background.
         “All clear!” I say, making my way down from the tree. Looking back on it I wish we never picked that tree, that angle or I wish the camera were off.

After school, 3:05
         I have to work late on week days after school. It’s a crappy job at a family-owned store called Bennie’s Best. It’s an Italian restaurant that lives up to its name because it is the best. The crappy part about it is I work in the back washing dishes and moping floors to about two to nine. They don’t usually have jobs like this available, which is what my mom reminds me of every time I complain about having to work there. She reminds me how much she had to beg to get this job for me then she gives me the; you-don’t-know-how-hard-it-is-to-be-a-single-parent speech and how she gave up so much raising us. I’ve learned to tune her out.
         Anyway I dump out the remaining bottom-shoe-saturated mop water into the woods behind the shop and hang my white apron on the hook by the door. The owner, Joe, hands me my payment in cash and slaps me on the back. He’s a broad shouldered man with tan skin and a brown mustache hiding his upper lip. “Good work today, kid, the floors, they look-a like-a brand new, yes?” I’m not all that sure what he said because his Italian accent’s like a whole other language. But I nod politely and smile. “Okay, you get some rest now.” He waves me off and I go, not one to argue with a wad of cash. I slip on my jacket and grab my book bag from behind a chair by the front door and head out.         

When I get home my younger brothers Ben and Mare are in the living room-right next to the front door-watching TV. “Mom,” I call, “I’m home.” I wait for the faint ‘okay sweetie’ then turn my attention to Ben and Mare. Their eyes are glued to the television screen and they’re stating at it like it was creating mankind. “What are you two watch’n?” I ask, throwing my bag on the floor buy the couch. They don’t even turn to look at me
         “Your friend’s on TV!” Ben says. 
         “Hey! They blocked the road with that yellow tape!”
         I stare at the TV too and my heart sinks. A swarm of photographers crowd Mia as they lead him into the local police center. He’s held by a cop in uniform and he’s trying to cover his face like you see celebrities do when they wish they weren’t celebrities.
         They showed the detectives at the street a block over calling it a crime scene and then they show Mia waiting inside the police station from the outside. His hands are cuffed and sitting on a bench, his face pail and his nose pink from crying. I allow my body to drop onto the cushioned couch, not taking my eyes of the TV. What was happening? Why were they arresting Mia? The blue news caption on the bottom of the screen read “A CLINTON TOWN TEENAGER ARRESTED FOR GUNSHOT FIRING.” I blink. Does that mean Mia was shot at, or the shooter? Then the news anchor speaks. She’s a tan woman with medium blonde hair curled at the tips and long eyelashes-the typical.
         “Today in sunny suburban Clinton West three shots has been fired from a suspected teenager. The gun-man was said to have been driving by Elms street when he allegedly leaped from the van, and shot fifteen-year-old David Brooth in the arm and leg. The third shot missed and the gun-man fled the scene. He fled two blocks until officers were able to capture him and take him into custody. The gun-man is suspected to be sixteen-year-old Mia Diaz, A student at Porter Ridge High and a classmate of Brooth’s. Investigators will have more in a moment.” The lady nods and the news cuts to commercial and I feel even worse. How could this happen? Mia would never have done this.           
         I quickly grab the remote and turn the TV off. Ben and Mare turn to me with angered faces.
         “Hey! What’d you do that for!” they cry.
         “Because! You guys don’t need to be watching this!” I say.
         “Well it’s not our fault your stupid friend can’t keep outta jail!”
         That made me really angry and I snap. “You know what, you don’t know anything so I’d suggest you SHUT UP and mind your own FREAK’N business before I SHOOT you!” They freeze and their eyes bug. And without a sound they dart out the room, probably to tell mom.
         
         I swing the front door open and my sneakers swipe the cement steps. I grab my bike that leans on the side of the brick wall in the grass and run it down the driveway. I ride down my street, pedaling as fast as I can. I grip the bars hard and pump my legs. My street is empty, cars locked away in garages, blinds down. And the streetlights are on-even though its only dusk. I pedal faster and make a sharp turn on Elms street; a block from Mia’s house-all the way prying the news wasn’t true.
         I can see the new-crew’s white truck on Mia’s street from yards away. People are gathered outside in their pajamas and every-day cloths and business suits-whatever they were doing before was stopped. I’m out of breath by the time I meet up with the small crowd. I let my bike drop to the ground and stand in the crowd. I squeeze by a woman in her robe and a man in suit. “Excuse me, sorry,” I say as I make my way towards the van. A news anchor woman, a different one than the one my TV, is talking with the microphone in front of her. “And as you can see behind me, the street has been blocked off for criminal investigation,” she was saying, raising her voice and dropping it again like a true news anchor.
         I squeeze through the confused crowd and there are a few cops standing around the sidewalk. One investigator is writing in his pad and a few cops are asking neighbors what they saw. The sidewalk is taped off with yellow tape about three or four yards either way. Three police cars are parked on the road and another officer is helping cars drive by. I feel noxious. The news was true. Hushed whispers fill the air as neighbor asks each other what’s going on. It is stupid of them to be out here if there was just a shooting-but then again-I’m out here. I turn back to the reporter. Her back was to me, her long black hair hiding her face. Then my eyes wonder past her, to the video camera the cameraman was hoisting over his shoulder. A camera. My camera. I glance up at the tall tree that shadowed the street with its leaves.
         I don’t care about the assignment anymore. So I don’t know why I even looked up there. But I pass the crowd again and cross the street to the sidewalk across from the blocked off one. I lay my hands on the tree, its texture rough and ridged. Maybe it’s a stupid idea. But I grab onto the lowest branch-the one I had used earlier to climb up the tree and burry my shoe into a hole in the tree. I reach for the video camera. It’s within reach and I leap a little to grab it.
         The camera isn’t still recording-the red light is off. I start to press play and check the film-because it shouldn’t have gone off already-when someone calls. “Who’s bike is this?” I hurry across the street and pick up my bike. “Sorry,” I say to a grumpy older man and push it down the road. There is no point in still being here-Mia isn’t here and the cops would surly ask me questions. Plus I’m just too sick too be here. Everything is happening too fast. I leap on my bike and pedal it home. The streetlight can actually be seen now, and the moon is high in the sky. 

THE NEXT MORNING

09-04-10_9:23 AM
LOCATION: MY HOME
DETECTIVE SHREWNEY

         I must have reviewed the tape a million times but the results were all the same. It clearly showed Mia, my best friend, as the culprit. I closed my camera lends feeling sick to my stomach. How could this be? Mia was cool, he’d never in a million years… but he did.
         I lay back on my pillow feeling as though I could throw up. I grab a picture of Mia and I as kids. He was posing with his arms folded and his faced scrunched up but his spiky hair remained the same. I had on a hoodie and hat trying to imitate him. He was a few years older than me and like an older brother. I slam the frame to the ground. What was I supposed to do?! Mia had just been arrested yesterday and the police will be sure to question me too, what would I say, that I had it on tape? What would happen to Mia?
“Ari!” my mom calls from down stairs. I look up “Yeah?!” I yell back but she says nothing. I sigh and get pull myself out of bed and walk downstairs to the kitchen where her voice was coming from.
         The man was sitting at the kitchen table, a small pad in his hands. He wore a long jacket and sunglasses above his head. His face was unexpressive as he told me to sit down in front of him. I looked at mom who was holding Mare and Ben close to her. She motions for me to sit and I do.
“May I have a moment here with your son ma’am?” the man asks.
“Oh, sure, c’mon boys,” mom says and they leave me with the officer.
The interrogation went something like this…
         “I’m detective Shrewney,” the men says “I just want to ask you a few questions. so you’re Ari correct, what relationship do you have with Mia?”
I shift my sneakers on the floor and hold my elbows, my arms laying flat on the tale.  “I… he’s my best friend…” I say.
         “Um hum. So where were you, the day of the shooting?” The man is very direct, and almost unemotional.
         “I was... at the store,” I say.
         “…which one?”
         “Joe’s, off Elena Street”
         “With Mia?” Mr. Shrewney asks. He’s writing this all down.
         “No, we had just worked on our science project together though. Mia was headed home in a van, I was walking home.”
         “But you were with Mia that day. And I know for a fact you have to come down that road everyday when you come home from school. What did you see?”
         “I didn’t see anything I heard about Mia’s arrest and Brooth’s state when I got home.” I didn’t like how he was just assuming information, like I was automatically there.
         “And who told you?” he asks.
         “My… mom…”
         “So, this doesn’t add up. You were at Joe’s, but you know so much about the crime.”
         “I had friends that were there,” I say, without thinking.
         “Like who?” He asks. I shrug. “Well you said friends, you don’t know who your friends are?”
         Not anymore. “Or-I knew some of them,” I say.
         But Mr. Shrewney is persistent “do you know their names?” he asks.
         “I… no…” Yes. I knew all their names, first and last!
         “I see.” He seems disappointed in me somehow. But that’s his problem. 
         “Well when you’re ready to talk for real,” the man says standing and handing me a card “That’s me, Detective Shrewney. If he calls you, if he even breathes a word… I want to know about it. Oh and Ari,” I look up at him “Excluding valuable information towards an offender of a serious crime is both illegal and wrong. And if we find out you had anything to do with this, anything, and that child dies… Mia won’t only be held accountable but anyone accompanying him risks major… jail… time. I don’t know about you but…” he inches closer to my face “no friend is worth 20 to life.” He smiles and I can see my reflection in his shades. He slaps me on the back and walks away. I can hear him tell mom he’s got all the information he needs and mom’s voice sounds relieved.
I frown, a little confused. How did this turn out to be about me? There’s no way I could do 20 to life if I did nothing. Mom walks in the room with a worried smile on her face “So he’ll get this whole thing cleared up I guess…” mom tries to touch my shoulder but I shove her off and run up stairs. This was far from over.
         I was determined to let detective what’s-his-face know as little as possible. At dinner someone calls the house phone. Mom stands to get it but jump up first. “I’ll get it!” I say and she looks at me kind of weird but let’s me answer the phone. “Hey, is Ari there?” I hear a shaky voice say.
         “Yeah, Mia, it’s me,” I answer
         “Hey, man. I’m-”
         “Yeah I know…” I look over at mom who’s staring back at me, and I lover my voice a little. “I know where you are Mia, it’s all over the news. What’s going on?”
         “I don’t know man, I didn’t do anything. The guy went down right in front of me but I didn’t have no gun or noth’n and then the cops saw us running, three guys and me…”
         “Wait is this your one phone call?” I ask.
         “Yeah…” Mia admits.
         “Mia, you should’ve called home. Your parents want to talk to you.”
         “I can’t… I can’t speak to them right now. My mom… and my pops… it’s too much for them right now I think. But could you do them a favor, could you tell them I didn’t do before they see it on TV and get convinced I did.”
         “Mia I don’t-” I say.
         “Please, Ari” he begs.
         “Um… sure,” I say.
         “Thanks. You don’t think I did it, do you Ari?”
         Mom points for me to come and sit down now.
         “No- I mean…um… I gotta go Mia…”
         “Ok, bye.”
         “Bye…” His phone goes dead and I hang up. “Who was that on the phone, Ari,” mom asks when I sit down. “Salesman,” I lie. She nods as if she only partly believes me. I stuff a spoonful of peas in my mouth. 

CHRISTIE
         That night I lay on my bed trying to figure this whole thing out when someone knocks on my door. “Go away, I’m studying,” I lie.
Since when do you study,” I hear a teenage girl’s voice. Christie. I pull myself out of bed and open my door.
         “Christie?” I say as if I hadn’t seen her in ten years. Christie lived a few houses over. She’s Mia’s cousin and would always tag along with Mia and me whenever we’d explore the neighborhood as kids.
         She’s grown a lot since then and we don’t talk nearly as much considering she likes all this girly stuff now. Standing there she wore a pink jacket with a black shirt and skinny jeans and bright pink boots. “Can I come in?” she asks.
         “What do you want?” I say
         “My cousin’s in jail, and you’re his best friend, I thought you might know something.”
         “I’m a kid not a mind reader,” I say, which doesn’t stop her from barging in my room.
         Christie holds her small purse in front of herself, looking around my room as if inspecting it for fleas. “I see why you’re best friends...” She says, sitting herself at my computer. “So… did Mia ever say anything about Brooth?”
         “Brooth?”
         “Yeah, the guy that was shot,” Christie says as if this were common since.          “Personally I don’t think he liked him but he wouldn’t have shot him, Ari, Mia doesn’t even own a gun,” she continues. That much I knew to be true. “The weapon they found as a three inch caliber, an old one, police were surprised it still worked, it’s like it should have been hung up in a museum somewhere.”
“hu…” I say, thinking.
         “Is that all? You don’t have anything else to say but hu? Hu’s not gonna get my cousin outta jail, Ari!”
         “Well what do you want me to say?!”
         “I want you to say you know something, someone or that somehow he’s gonna get out,” Christie says, standing and walking closer and closer to me “You’re his best friend! They’re probably gonna call you up to the stand to testify and if all you can say is ‘hu’ then he’s doomed!”
         “Ok, ok, calm down!” I snap. “I do… have something… but I’m pretty sure you don’t want to see it…, it kinda proves against Mia…”
         Christie’s eyes follow me like a hawk as I pull my video camera from under my bed. “It’s a tape…” I say, turning it on.
         “A tape? A tape of what?” she asks. Christie looks at me, her eyes concerned, and hesitantly takes the video camera from my hands. “Just watch,” I say, tucking my hands in my pockets and looking away. I’d seen it too many times already. She watches attentively at the screen, her eyebrows scrunched up as if thinking deeply. She glances over at me for a moment, then back at the screen. I hear the pop of the gunshot from the audio and the verrrrm of the van taking off. She closed the lens in her palms, silent. Christie hands the camera back to me, her eyes watery and her nose a dull pink. “That’s… that’s just… insane,” she whispers, almost to herself. Christie plops herself down on my bed, her head landing above her knees as if someone had just sucked all the wind from her. She rubs her forehead with her hand as if someone had just hit her there and she was feeling for a burse.
         “Christie, I didn’t tape it,” I start “the camera we set the camera up there…” She shakes her head no, as if she didn’t believe me, or she just didn’t want to believe it. She slowly takes her purse and straitening it onto her shoulder. “I gotta… I gotta go, Ari… Aunt Jenna is gonna be looking for me and…” she stands and opens my bedroom door. She stops before she leaves “I’m sorry Christie...” I say before she disappears down the hallway and I hear my mom ask her is everything ok. The front door slams shut. My heart sinks at the sound. Now even Christie believed Mia did it, what had I done. I feel like throwing up but I just slump myself onto my bed. Maybe the only thing I could do now for Mia was to destroy the tape, and do it before anyone else sees it.

Visiting Mia Saturday
09-05-10_9:44 AM
LOCATION:
CLINTON YOUGHS CENTER

VISITING MIA
         Even though mom told me not to, that Saturday I visit Mia in jail. Looking at the prisoners they all seemed so much older than Mia, even though some of them where the same age. The guard led me past cell by cell until we finally stopped at Mia’s. He banged on the edge of the bars with his stick and the clang seemed to jolt Mia into reality. He was sitting on the edge of his cot staring down at the floor and I wonder how long he’s been doing that.
         “Wake up pretty boy, you got a visitor,” the guard says. Did he really just call Mia pretty boy? I held my tongue because I knew this wasn’t a funny matter. Mia stands as if he hasn’t stretched in years and turns to me. I guess he was expecting his dad or something because his face lights up when he sees me. “Ari!” he says “man, I didn’t think you were coming.”
         “Yeah,” I say “well, I had to sneak out but…” he laughs and grabs the metal bars with his hands. He seemed to be looking for the strength to talk to me like normal, when he wasn’t a convicted felon, a few days ago.
         “How’s um…” I could hear his voice going sore “How’s my mom. What’d she say…”
         I really don’t want to answer this questing because she’s really not doing too good.
         “Yeah I was over by your house earlier she’s um… I mean- she’s a little worried and… but she’s holding it together, you know,” I say, not giving a full answer either way. Truthfully she was crying the whole time I was over there. Mia’s dad even seemed a little teary-eyed, which is pretty deep for Mr. Diaz. “Oh, but she wrote you this letter,” I say slipping a piece of folded paper from my coat pocket “she said she wants to see you but she can’t right now… because I’d be too sad.” Mia carefully takes the paper from my hands and opens it up.
He scans over the writing and then starts to read out loud. “Mia…
The walk home from the detention center was a lonely one.

LOST TAPE
09-05-10_9:23 AM
LOCATION:
MY HOME

LOST TAPE
         As soon as I get home mom starts going off about cleaning my room and walking Hockey, our husky mix, and stuff. It’s a big leap, but I decided on the walk back here I’m going to show her the tape. “Mom-” I start, interrupting her. “There’s something I need to show you-first.”
         Mom looks a little annoyed “Ari, if this has anything to do with Mia, I’m sorry but-”
“No, no, this is important,” I say. And I think she recognizes that I’m serious because she stops her lecture to follow me into my room.   
         I open my desk drawer where I had left the tape and my heart sank. A blank spot lay where the tape case used to be. It wasn’t there.
         “Well,” mom says, impatiently folding her arms and tapping her foot on the floor.
         “Wait, maybe I left it in my sock drawer,” I say, pulling my drawers open and running my hand through its contents, nothing.
         “Um…you know what, mom,” I speak up, turning to face her while sliding my sock drawer shut behind my back. “You’re right, maybe I should just forget about the case, like you said it’s in the hands of the jury now. I um… I think I’m gonna go walk Hockey now.”
         Mom stares at me through squinted eyes, a hint of suspicion in her stance. She watches me slump my shoulders and walk past her without a word. I’m sure she knows I haven’t given up that easy but I’m walking the dog and that’s something that’s worth letting me get out of the conversation over.
I click Hockey’s leash to his collar and grab my skateboard on the way out. The good thing is I know who took the tape.
         When I find her she’s sitting on the edge of the wooden dock, kicking her boots back and forth over the deep lake water. Christie holds her hands in-between her legs as she hangs her head towards the ground. She jumps when I skid my skateboard to a halt yards away from her, Hockey’s leash wrapped around my hand tight. Christie’s eyes meet mine for a moment, a miserable look on her face, and then she turns away. This makes me even more anxious. I let go of Hockey’s leash and let him trot up to her and lick her on the face. Her dirty lying face.
         I abandon my board where I’d stopped and march over to Christie. “Christie… Christie!” I say taking her shoulders and turning her towards me, forcing her to look at me. “Where’s the tape, what did you do with it!?”
Christie silently glances up at me, her eyes seeming to be in a daze. Her nose is pink and her eyebrows lower making her look sad and almost lost. “Christie!” I repeat as if she were deaf. And then her face changes, her eyebrows lower into a frown as she shoves my hands off of her shoulders. Christie’s long brown hair swipes at her back and she stares back out at the lake.
         I stand to my feet, and breathe out a huff of fog. Maybe she didn’t have it. Christie says nothing but slowly opens her hands from in-between her legs. A clear CD cover with a blue disk inside appears in her palms, the tape. For a moment I’m speechless and then the words come to me.
         “You… didn’t… you didn’t throw it away? But I thought you… I mean…” Christie shakes her head no. She hands the tape to me and I hesitate to take it from her cold frail hands.
         “And no, it’s not blank…. I didn’t change it… or scratch it or anything…” she says, staring plainly ahead. “I wanted to… I wanted to throw it over but I couldn’t and so I just sat here, for hours… thinking. Ari” Christie looks up at me, strands of her long hair flowing with the wind “Do you think Mia could have done this, honestly?”
I can’t answer her. In my heart I knew my best friend Mia since fourth grade couldn’t have changed so much. He was never a criminal but I can’t say he’s never gotten into a fight before. Maybe it was just an accident. Maybe he had absolutely nothing to do with it. But this tape… this stupid tape I had in my hands that I couldn’t get rid of. This tape painted Mia as a heartless killer… and anyone who viewed it would have no question otherwise. Though I thought all this it comes out as “…no,” and I know that must be true. Christie sniffs and a half smile crosses her face.

9 seconds off,  2:36 Sunday
09-05-10_2:36 PM
LOCATION: MY HOME

9 SECONDS OFF
         Sunday afternoon I get a surprise visit from Christie… again. But this time she seemed calmer and more serious than Saturday. She had on a business suit and her log brown hair was tied up into a ponytail. She held a folder in her hand and reading glasses on her face. ‘Um… hey,” I say when I answer the front door.
“I’ve been over the facts and I think I we can help Mia’s case,” she says walking into my house.
         “Um… what?”
         “Mia’s case, I think we can-”
         “-Wait where did you get evidence… and facts?”
         “My mom’s a lawyer, remember. Well actually she’s not covering this case but, I’ve learned a lot from her.”
         “Christie…” I start not wanting to hurt her feelings.
         “No look.” She says laying out photos and papers on out coffee table “When you showed me that tape I was devastated BUT I thought, something doesn’t add up. If Mia had been in a van with three other guys then what are the odds they didn’t see him with a gun. AND the bullet hit the guy from the left side see, Mia was on his right AND there was no debris on any of his clothing at the time of arrest!”
         “Christie… this is all great but the court’s not gonna listen to us, they all think Mia’s a convicted killer.”
Christie sighs, folding her arms. Suddenly she looks up at me, her eyes wide. “The van…” she whispers.
         “Yeah, the van, I know. Peter was driving it. We already talked to him, remember.”
         “No, the van was… it was in front of Mia and then… -Where’s the tape I need to see something.” She says.
         “In my drawer but I don’t think…” my voice trails off as I watch Christie run to my room. She yanks my drawer open and places the disk into the computer. Christie sits at the computer and places the video. Her eyes are glued to the computer screen as she studies it intensely. “There!” she shouts, pointing to a number on the bottom of the screen. Christie clicks the computer mouse once and the video pauses. “Did you see, the number changed!”
I frown, “Christie…” I say, using my slow voice “The number is supposed to change.”
         “NO, no!” Christie says, still pointing at the screen. She rewinds the tape a few seconds.
         “There! The number reads 13:02:51 … and here, where it should read fifty something seconds, it reads thirteen hours and three minutes.” I have to squint my eyes to see what she’s talking about, but she’s right. Almost ten seconds are missing from the tape. I try not to seem unappreciative, but how anal.
“So that means… someone’s already seen the tape,” I whisper. Christie’s eye brows lower making her look worried, she probably hadn’t thought of that.
“And they changed it to make it seem like Mia did it,” she says. The room grows quiet. A sick chilling feeling comes over me as if I could throw up. Not only had someone taken the tape and watched it but they’d actually edited out part of it.
“We need to find out who has the real tape.” Christie speaks up after a few moments of quiet. “Chances are if they edited that part out they had to publish it to their computer first, right? And to do that they had to save one of both versions to their computer. Even if they trashed it, it’s still in the trash part of their computer.” I nod my head, still a little creped out.
“We also know they had something to do with the crime, someone to protect to take the time to do this,” I say, going through the suspects in my mind. “There were two other kids in van, besides the driver, Peter and Soul,” I say. And just like that we had our three suspects.