Chapter 4

"We have security footage from the test center," Detective Miller stated, his eyes fixed on me.

They played it on a monitor in the interrogation room.

My breath hitched.

It was me.

Or someone who looked exactly like me.

Same height, same build, same dark hair pulled back in a ponytail.

Wearing a dark blue hoodie, identical to mine, with that distinctive raven patch on the sleeve.

The camera angle was clear. "Ashley Carter" – or her double – sitting at an exam desk, occasionally touching her ear, then writing furiously.

The same nervous tick I had when I was concentrating hard.

It was a flawless performance.

"Forensic reports came back," the younger detective, Davis, chimed in, holding up a file. "Fingerprints on the exam answer sheets match yours, Ashley. And DNA from saliva on a water bottle recovered from the desk is a match to you as well."

I shook my head, numb. "That's not possible. It wasn't me."

How? How could they do this?

The door opened again. This time, a young man, probably college-aged, was escorted in. He looked terrified, his eyes red-rimmed.

The "hired test-taker."

"Mr. Davies," Miller said, "can you identify the person who hired you, who paid you to take the SATs and fed you the answers?"

The young man looked around the room, his gaze landing on me. He flinched.

Tears welled in his eyes. "Her," he whispered, pointing a trembling finger. "It was her. Ashley Carter."

"No!" I cried out. "I've never seen him before in my life!"

Detective Miller then laid out a series of printouts on the table.

Venmo transactions.

"These are from an account linked to your name, Ashley," he said. "Showing multiple payments made to Mr. Davies here, starting a week before the SATs."

The amounts weren't huge, but they were consistent, damning.

My name, my face, my fingerprints, my DNA, my money.

The evidence was overwhelming, irrefutable.

They had thought of everything.

It painted me as the mastermind, the ringleader of a sophisticated cheating operation.

Just like before.

The nightmare was repeating, detail for perfect, horrible detail.

And I was trapped, just as surely as the first time.