Preppy Little Liars

Chapter 3

Stephen stared down at the picture. “Is that—Did someone—”

“Someone took a knife to Thunderbolt’s saddle,” I finished for him. “You can tell by the jagged, frayed edges that that wasn’t a rip. Someone did that on purpose.”

And I had a pretty good idea who that someone was. A certain blonde who got ghost quicker than you could say “boo” after I saw her lurking around the field, perhaps.

Stephen turned the camera sideways as if seeing the image from another angle was going to change the outcome. “But why? Why would somebody cut Thunderbolt’s saddle?”

“Maybe that somebody didn’t like the fact that Margaret was going to win the gold at regionals and was going to be the talk of the equestrian circuit.”

Stephen laid the camera back down on his desk. He rubbed the back of his neck without making eye contact and lowered his voice. “You really think Kitty did this?”

I leaned in closer to him and lowered my own. The entire newspaper staff, minus our advisor, was now in the room and I didn’t want them all up in our conversation.

“I don’t know. All I know is that she was acting real strange when I saw her earlier and she’s the only person with a strong motive. She was set to lead the team before Margaret transferred here and now she’s number two. Kitty doesn’t like being second to anybody, you know that.”

Stephen nodded. “Still—that’s a little extreme. Even for her.”

“Well, who else could have done it?”

“Uh—someone on the team the Stallionettes were about to trounce at regionals in two weeks.”

I paused mid-rebuttal. Stephen had a point. Why didn’t I think of that? It was entirely possible that one of the other girls from the opposing team broke into the stable either that morning or the night before the exhibition and cut Thunderbolt’s saddle.

But something else occurred to me and I shook that thought off. “When someone gets murdered, it’s standard procedure for the police to question friends and family first as they’re the people closest to the victim and would have more means and opportunity than a stranger to commit the crime, right?”

Stephen chuckled. “No one got murdered.”

“But my point still stands,” I said, talking a tad too loud. A couple of the staff members, including the incredibly smug Doug Chen, turned to look at us. I flashed them weak smiles before turning back to Stephen and lowering my voice to a discreet decibel.

“Look, there had to be a reason Kitty was missing before and after Margaret’s accident.”

“I still vote bathroom break.” At the sight of my glare, Stephen put his hands up in mock surrender. “Fine. Let’s do this: we’ll go talk to whatever teams the Stallionettes were supposed to compete against at regionals and then we’ll question Kitty. If everybody has an alibi that checks out, we’ll chalk this whole thing up to a really messed up accident and call it a day. Cool?”

“So you still think it was an accident, even after seeing photographic evidence to the contrary?” My voice rose in righteous indignation at Stephen’s willful ignorance.

“No, I definitely think someone cut Margaret’s saddle. But I also think you’re making Kitty out to be some criminal mastermind with no real proof that she did anything. And even if we talk to her and she appears guilty, we still won’t be able to do anything about it without actual evidence. It would be our word against hers.”

I leaned back in my chair, considered the truth of his statement, and sighed. “Fine. We’ll go talk to the teams after Mr. Murphy lets us out.”