Jaden
Page 3
My head popped up when they said that, and a lawyer told me as if he were a robot and I were a rock, that paparazzi were already outside. Grace Barton’s death was linked back to Marcus’ and since Bryce was connected, along with Denton, it was going to spread all over the country. A movie star and soccer’s newest star, both in love with the same girl—I couldn’t stop the cringe when I heard that—was gold for social media.
Everyone would know my name.
That was when I stopped listening. I didn’t want anyone to know.
Corrigan’s shout from earlier ripped through me. I never looked at him. I didn’t dare. I would’ve bolted for him, and he would’ve fought for me. And then what would’ve happened? We would’ve both been in police custody. But then again, a small chuckle slipped out, it would’ve been like the old days. Except Corrigan was the one that always seemed to be calling us from the police station, and Bryce and I would come down to post his bail.
The humor left me then. It was me this time, but I wasn’t in for a high school prank.
As I was led through booking and had my prints and my mugshot taken and then was told to wait in an overcrowded cell, I wanted to wake up. I wanted all this to be a dream, a nightmare, but then I found a corner in the back and sat down against the cold wall. I shivered and refrained from hugging myself.
A few girls were already sizing me up.
I wasn’t weak. I wasn’t about to start acting like it now.
I lifted my chin and gazed back. Everything in me was numb now.
I was being charged with Grace’s murder. What worse could happen?
CHAPTER TWO
Lawyers posted my bail that afternoon, and instead of being led out the front, they took me out the back. We went down a flight of stairs and came out into the basement of a parking garage. A black limousine was parked in front, but two of the lawyers directed me to a car behind it. There were two other cars, all black, all nondescript.
We waited a moment, and I stood there while the lawyers bent their heads with a few of the police officers. They kept looking toward the wall and gestured with wide arm movements. It was then I realized I was hearing a buzz. I frowned as I tried to concentrate. That sound wasn’t normal. Something was off, and then I heard a surge of shouts and a few flashes made their way into the basement.
Media.
I glanced up, taken aback. That’s what this whole thing was about. They were creating a diversion for me. What they had said before had been true. But then one of the lawyers came toward me and gestured to one of the smaller cars. As I got in, he sat beside me, and we waited again.
I tried to see from my window. Two police motorcycles passed us. I assumed they took the front. Their lights flashed against the cement wall around us, and then I twisted around. There were two more behind us, along with a squad car. I could only imagine another squad car was in the front as well.
And then we inched forward. The police first, the limousine second, the third and fourth cars after them. We turned right when they inched to the left.
Paparazzi swarmed around them. I couldn’t believe it. There were television camera crews and reporters everywhere. The limousine couldn’t even move. A few men climbed on top of the limousine. Some tried to take pictures through the blackened sunroof.
My throat went dry at the sight. They were there for me, because I was linked to Bryce and Denton. And because they thought I killed my friend.
The lawyer beside me handed me a newspaper. He spoke in a bland voice, “You’ve been nicknamed already. You’re ‘The Queen Bee Killer.’”
I took the paper and saw the headlines. In bold capital letters was what he said. I saw a picture of myself from school, one of Bryce at one of his games, and one from the latest movie premiere Denton had attended. My stomach twisted, and I crumpled the newspaper into a ball. I glanced at him, disgust in my gut, and asked, “You think that’s funny?”
He shrugged. “You’ll get a lot of coverage from it. It’s a good name.”
“It’s a lie.” I lifted my mouth in a snarl.
The grin didn’t leave, and he shrugged again. “There’s no such thing as bad publicity.”
My eyes went flat. “Or maybe it’s true. Maybe I did kill her. You want to piss me off? I might gut you here and now.”
His head whipped to mine, and the smirk vanished.
Finally. I relaxed against my seat. That was all I wanted.
He paled. “You wouldn’t. I’m your lawyer.”
I shrugged and smirked this time. “I’m sure there’s more where you came from.”
The other lawyer beside me shifted in his seat, but no other words were shared. After we drove for a while, I lost interest in where we were going. I wasn’t stupid. I knew we wouldn’t be going where I considered home, and I was right when we pulled up to a gate an hour later.
The gate was large, black, and imposing. It was a complete wall. The driver got out and pushed a button near it. A buzz was heard, but the driver bent down and spoke into the button. A moment later, he returned to the car, and the gate slid up. We rolled underneath it, and it went back down. It landed with a thud, and we had to drive another mile before the driveway curved to the right and a clearing opened for us. Everything was covered with a forest, but then we got a view of a mansion.
It looked like a castle, and my eyes couldn’t help but go wide. Whose was this?
The front door opened, and I jerked forward in the seat. My seatbelt tightened, and I was shoved back, but I couldn’t look away. I couldn’t close my mouth. Everything stopped in that moment.
When we slid to a stop and the lawyers got out of the car, I was slower. My body had trouble moving, and my legs were stiff. My arms shook, and my heart raced as I pulled myself up outside the car. I had to hold onto it or I would’ve fallen. I heard my knees knocking against each other. I couldn’t feel them, but I heard them.
“Hello, Sheldon.”
The man before me was in his forties. He was dressed in a black business suit, which fit him like a glove, and he gazed back at me. He waited for my reaction. There were no words.
“Dad?”
He still had his thinning hair, but it was darker than I remembered. A rush of air left me. I lifted my hands and watched how they shook before me. I was detached from my body. Nothing made sense, but my dad was in front of me.
He had left for Europe. I never heard from him again and now . . . he was in front of me.
Everyone would know my name.
That was when I stopped listening. I didn’t want anyone to know.
Corrigan’s shout from earlier ripped through me. I never looked at him. I didn’t dare. I would’ve bolted for him, and he would’ve fought for me. And then what would’ve happened? We would’ve both been in police custody. But then again, a small chuckle slipped out, it would’ve been like the old days. Except Corrigan was the one that always seemed to be calling us from the police station, and Bryce and I would come down to post his bail.
The humor left me then. It was me this time, but I wasn’t in for a high school prank.
As I was led through booking and had my prints and my mugshot taken and then was told to wait in an overcrowded cell, I wanted to wake up. I wanted all this to be a dream, a nightmare, but then I found a corner in the back and sat down against the cold wall. I shivered and refrained from hugging myself.
A few girls were already sizing me up.
I wasn’t weak. I wasn’t about to start acting like it now.
I lifted my chin and gazed back. Everything in me was numb now.
I was being charged with Grace’s murder. What worse could happen?
CHAPTER TWO
Lawyers posted my bail that afternoon, and instead of being led out the front, they took me out the back. We went down a flight of stairs and came out into the basement of a parking garage. A black limousine was parked in front, but two of the lawyers directed me to a car behind it. There were two other cars, all black, all nondescript.
We waited a moment, and I stood there while the lawyers bent their heads with a few of the police officers. They kept looking toward the wall and gestured with wide arm movements. It was then I realized I was hearing a buzz. I frowned as I tried to concentrate. That sound wasn’t normal. Something was off, and then I heard a surge of shouts and a few flashes made their way into the basement.
Media.
I glanced up, taken aback. That’s what this whole thing was about. They were creating a diversion for me. What they had said before had been true. But then one of the lawyers came toward me and gestured to one of the smaller cars. As I got in, he sat beside me, and we waited again.
I tried to see from my window. Two police motorcycles passed us. I assumed they took the front. Their lights flashed against the cement wall around us, and then I twisted around. There were two more behind us, along with a squad car. I could only imagine another squad car was in the front as well.
And then we inched forward. The police first, the limousine second, the third and fourth cars after them. We turned right when they inched to the left.
Paparazzi swarmed around them. I couldn’t believe it. There were television camera crews and reporters everywhere. The limousine couldn’t even move. A few men climbed on top of the limousine. Some tried to take pictures through the blackened sunroof.
My throat went dry at the sight. They were there for me, because I was linked to Bryce and Denton. And because they thought I killed my friend.
The lawyer beside me handed me a newspaper. He spoke in a bland voice, “You’ve been nicknamed already. You’re ‘The Queen Bee Killer.’”
I took the paper and saw the headlines. In bold capital letters was what he said. I saw a picture of myself from school, one of Bryce at one of his games, and one from the latest movie premiere Denton had attended. My stomach twisted, and I crumpled the newspaper into a ball. I glanced at him, disgust in my gut, and asked, “You think that’s funny?”
He shrugged. “You’ll get a lot of coverage from it. It’s a good name.”
“It’s a lie.” I lifted my mouth in a snarl.
The grin didn’t leave, and he shrugged again. “There’s no such thing as bad publicity.”
My eyes went flat. “Or maybe it’s true. Maybe I did kill her. You want to piss me off? I might gut you here and now.”
His head whipped to mine, and the smirk vanished.
Finally. I relaxed against my seat. That was all I wanted.
He paled. “You wouldn’t. I’m your lawyer.”
I shrugged and smirked this time. “I’m sure there’s more where you came from.”
The other lawyer beside me shifted in his seat, but no other words were shared. After we drove for a while, I lost interest in where we were going. I wasn’t stupid. I knew we wouldn’t be going where I considered home, and I was right when we pulled up to a gate an hour later.
The gate was large, black, and imposing. It was a complete wall. The driver got out and pushed a button near it. A buzz was heard, but the driver bent down and spoke into the button. A moment later, he returned to the car, and the gate slid up. We rolled underneath it, and it went back down. It landed with a thud, and we had to drive another mile before the driveway curved to the right and a clearing opened for us. Everything was covered with a forest, but then we got a view of a mansion.
It looked like a castle, and my eyes couldn’t help but go wide. Whose was this?
The front door opened, and I jerked forward in the seat. My seatbelt tightened, and I was shoved back, but I couldn’t look away. I couldn’t close my mouth. Everything stopped in that moment.
When we slid to a stop and the lawyers got out of the car, I was slower. My body had trouble moving, and my legs were stiff. My arms shook, and my heart raced as I pulled myself up outside the car. I had to hold onto it or I would’ve fallen. I heard my knees knocking against each other. I couldn’t feel them, but I heard them.
“Hello, Sheldon.”
The man before me was in his forties. He was dressed in a black business suit, which fit him like a glove, and he gazed back at me. He waited for my reaction. There were no words.
“Dad?”
He still had his thinning hair, but it was darker than I remembered. A rush of air left me. I lifted my hands and watched how they shook before me. I was detached from my body. Nothing made sense, but my dad was in front of me.
He had left for Europe. I never heard from him again and now . . . he was in front of me.
