"Way," I replied.
"Dammit," she said under her breath. I knew the tone. She was as disappointed that it wasn't
Noelle as I was that it wasn't her.
"I can't believe we're having this conversation," I mused.
She looked at me and smirked. "Yeah. Neither can I." She took in a breath and let it out audibly,
then stood up straight. "Well, if it wasn't Noelle, and it wasn't me," she said facetiously, holding
her hands up to her chest, "then who the hell was it? Because if you take the indomitable Ms.
Lange out of the equation, you're looking like a pretty good suspect."
I felt as if I had just been slapped and sat up straight. "Excuse me? "
"Hey, if you dish it, be prepared to take it," Ivy said, lifting her palms. "You stood to gain the most
from her death. You guys were
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publicly feuding. You lived right down the freaking hall from her. Who better?"
"It wasn't me," I told her, though I had no real proof. "I mean, I know that sounds lame, but...
Cheyenne was moving out. She was out of my life. I had no reason to kill her. I--"
"Don't stress. I don't really think it was you," Ivy said, looking me up and down. "You're far too...
Little Orphan Annie."
Whatever that meant.
"I've looked into a few people, but I'm at a serious disadvantage since I wasn't here last year," Ivy
said, strolling the two steps to peer into my broken closet. "I don't really know who she was
hanging out with... who she was dating...."
"I could fill in some of the blanks there," I offered, without really thinking.
She turned to me, eyebrows raised. "Could you?"
I felt a slight surge of excitement--tentative excitement--and stood. "And you could fill in the
blanks from the years before," I said slowly. "Anyone who might be holding a long grudge. People I
don't even know about."
For a long moment we eyed each other, neither one of us willing to make the next move. Just
looking at her, I was still having trouble wrapping my brain around the fact that she wasn't the
enemy. That she hadn't been the one to plant all those awful little gifts and send the e-mails. Ivy
Slade was innocent. And, like me, she was also a victim.