“It was me,” Reed said, and it came out strong and steady. “Viola didn’t kill Claire. It was me.” “We both know that’s not true,” Gretchen said, not taking her eyes off Reed’s face, though she knew the gun had twitched on her words. “It’s a confession,” Reed countered. “You can’t prove otherwise.” Gretchen considered that. She might be able to if she really wanted to. But she was far more curious for the details of the truth than some kind of pursuit of justice. Claire Kent had clearly deserved to die, and even if she hadn’t, Gretchen wasn’t the type to get tangled up in some kind of universal
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