News of Sienna and Principle Wilson's affair hits headlines and it's all anyone can talk about. That, and the person behind leaking the story.

Me, apparently.

I'm deemed a martyr by fifty percent of seniors and wished dead by the other half. Literally. Death threats are coming in by the minute, both verbally and digitally. My locker is no longer in use, due to the damage caused by people kicking it and to top it all off, I'm on my fucking period.

"Helena is not to be left alone today under any circumstances," states Shaun, addressing Jasmine and Elliot. "We'll eat lunch in the library and meet at ours tonight for a debriefing."

"After I tutor Zoe," I say.

"Of course."

Elliot smiles and lightly brushes my hair. "I'll talk to Lewis. Shaun, afterwards, see if you can catch Tom. It's important we speak to them. They could know something."

"Agreed."

"And I'm doing yoga with Perrie tonight," informs Jasmine. "We're planning on having a chat with Rachel there."

"Good thinking, babe," applauds Shaun, kissing her cheek. "But who's going to walk Helena to and from the Robinson's?"

"I will," offers Elliot, glancing to me. "If that's okay?"

"That's more than okay."

A definite blush creeps up his neck, followed by a shy smile. It's cute. Innocent. Sexy.

"Helena?" Marie comes into view, extending a hand. "Need an escort to history?"

I smile. "Yes."

I link my arm through hers, confident I'll be fine with her background in jujitsu. That, and her fierceness. You don't fuck with Maria. You just don't.

"See you guys at lunch?"

"Be careful, Lena," states Elliot.

His shoulders tense, seemingly as a result of letting me walk away.

I smile. "Everything will be fine."

****

Zoe's home is just as much protected as she is with steel gates and evergreen trees trailing the perimeter. Upon entering, Elliot and I are searched and forced to hand over our cell phones. He's given permission by Zoe's Mom to wait for me in their conservatory, seeing as it's police protocol to travel in groups. I'm secretly glad he's here, finding it a huge comfort as I head towards Zoe's room on the second floor.

"Hello?" I knock. "Zoe?"

"Come in," she replies, tone light.

She takes one look at my bruised face and squirms. "Chloe got you good, huh?"

"You heard?" I ask, dropping my bag on the floor.

It's contents spill out; pens, papers, sanitary pads.

"Yeah. Your twitter famous. You have your own hashtags," she states, helping me gather my belongings. "I figured it's why you're really here."

I offer her a coy smile. "It is. But I will tutor you. Your mom's right. Your education shouldn't suffer simply because you're stuck in the middle of a murder investigation."

A nervous laugh leaves her lips, no doubt at my absurdity. "It's not every day you get to say that."

I gesture towards her bedroom desk. "Shall we?"

She nods as I perch myself on the end of her stool. It's not the only small piece of furniture. In fact, her entire bedroom is built with what looks to be a seven-year-old in mind. Her bed is lined with stuffed bears and porcelain dolls, their beady eyes following my every move.

"What would you like to know?" she asks, breaking my focus.

"Did anyone know about your secret?" I question. "Anyone who would want to expose you? Punish you?"

"Punish me?"

I nod. "We think that's the killer's objective here. To punish its victims."

She says nothing for a moment, seemingly processing this.

"Only my clients knew," she informs. "I didn't tell anyone else."

I falter, not knowing what to say next. What to do. How do I even begin talking to someone who turned to prostitution in their darkest hour?

"Can I ask you something?"

She nods.

"Why do it? Why sleep with people for money?"

She picks up a stuffed bear and stares at it for a moment. "I needed cash."

I look to her open closet, specifically at the designer handbags and expensive shoes.

"My own cash."

"Why?"

She disregards the bear by flinging it across the room. "I owed a debt."

Oh?

"Couldn't you get a job waitressing or something?"

"Not for thirty grand," she replies.

Thirty fucking grand?

I almost fall from my chair.

"Who did you owe that amount of cash to?"

"I was being blackmailed," she admits, shoulders slumped.

My stomach drops in an instant, a feeling I'm becoming far too familiar with. "Let me guess. You got messaged by an account on Instagram called S_D_S."

"How'd you know?" she asks.

"You're not the only one being blackmailed."

I pull out my notebook and pen, scribbling down a few notes. Things of relevance.

"What leverage do they have on you?"

She looks towards her floor, suddenly incapable of eye contact. "I did something a few years ago. Something bad. And they threatened to expose that unless I paid up."

I encourage her to continue with a small smile. "You can tell me."

"Do you remember Lucas Wallace?" she questions. "He was in the grade above us."

"I remember him."

Everyone does. He was only the most loved guy in our school.

"We dated for a little while," she confirms. "I was fifteen, he was sixteen. He made me feel like I was the luckiest girl in Oak Valley."

I already don't like where this is going...

"About a month into our relationship, I find out he's seeing someone else."

What a dirtbag!

"So I filmed them."

Wait?

"Doing what?" I ask.

"Having sex."

Oh my god!

"Y-you. It was you?"

She looks up, eyes wide.

"You leaked Lucy's sex tape?"

"Yes." Tears congregate in the corners of her eyes. "I'm not proud of it. I know what I did was wrong but no one can find out it was me. You're trying to help this town and look what's happening? If the people of Oak Valley find out what I did, they'll slaughter me."

She's not wrong there.

"I'm begging you, Helena!"

"It's okay," I insist. "I'm not here to make judgements. I'm here to get to the bottom of this."

She nods, clearly relieved.

"Who knew?" I ask. "About the tape?"

"A few people. My parents. The police."

"And you weren't ever prosecuted?"

She shakes her head. "Daddy helped bury it. He paid the sherif to keep his mouth shut."

Just when you think the town you live in can't get any more corrupt.

"None of this makes sense," I reveal, pulling at my hair. "It doesn't follow the pattern."

"What pattern?"

"Sienna, Tom, Principle Wilson... they all had two options. Truth or death. How come you were offered a chance to pay them off?"

She shrugs.

"And why come after you once you paid up?" I pause. "You did pay them, right?"

"Yes," she replies. "I was instructed to leave an envelope of cash at the entrance of Rockaby park."

"When was this?" I enquire.

"A few weeks ago."

Silence surrounds us, thickening. Suffocating.

"Unless..." I begin, allowing the cogs to turn in my head. "They couldn't prove your involvement with the sex tape. Therefore, they had to trick you into doing something else. Something illegal."

"But how would they know I would turn to prostitution?" she asks. "It's hardly the obvious choice?"

"You said it yourself. The type of money you needed couldn't be made by waitressing," I say, suddenly standing from my stool. "Did you keep a list of your clients? A document of names?"

She nods, reaching for a small, red book.

"Wait! You have it? Shouldn't the police have this?" I ask, accepting the leather bound notebook.

She laughs. "No."

"Why?"

Surely this is classed as evidence. Important evidence.

"Open it and you'll see why."

I listen to her instruction and turn to page one, seeing a list of dates and names. To the right of them sits a cash sum, followed by a brief description of each act. Everything is documented in date order and includes a time and location. It's incredibly organised but that's not what has my attention. The names do.

James Saunders.

Connor Fraser.

Harry Little.

Samuel Blunt.

All police officers.

"Now do you understand?"

"Detective James Saunders paid you for sex?" I ask.

She nods.

"Is it possible he knows about the sex tape? That your dad paid off the sherif?"

Another nod. "I guess so."

"Zoe, do you realise what this means?"

She says nothing, looking a little lost. No doubt stunned.

"He's corrupt," I state, heart thumping.

"D'ya think he's the killer?" she asks, finally leaving the safety of her desk chair.

I nod, breaking out into a cold sweat. "It's possible. Very possible."

****

Oh snappppp!

We're getting closer, guys!