The cops hadn’t even caught the guy yet, but Henry Smith already had everything figured out.
That guy? An old neighbor of mine from back home. Dropped out of middle school, got mixed up with some sketchy people, and racked up a mountain of debt. Then out of nowhere, a fat chunk of money landed in his bank account yesterday.
When Henry sent someone to grab him, he was still at a casino playing cards. Once caught, he pointed right at me, saying I told him to do it.
There wasn’t just his confession—there were bank records and even a few messages between us.
“It wasn’t me! Someone set me up, you have to believe me!” I clung to his arm, sobbing as I tried to explain.
He yanked his arm away like I was something dirty. His eyes were cold, sharp. “Who else could it be? Lena’s alwa
