Something died in me.
They sounded so sure of whatever their accusation was. I tried to remember back to the classroom and what they had said when they put the handcuffs on . . . “Sheldon Jeneve, you are under arrest for the murder of Grace Barton . . .”
The rest faded from memory. It happened twenty minutes ago.
“Look . . .”
The guy detective must’ve gotten bored. A tone of impatience was clear.
He continued, “Let’s cut the bullshit, okay? You and Grace were friends. We know that. You had a falling out. We know that, too. Then the night she admitted that she was the one who pushed you into a glass table, we found her dead. She died in her home, but I bet you knew that. Right? She was there because we think she was scared of her sorority, the sorority that wanted you to pledge. They wanted you, you bartered for her too, and then you backed out. They were stuck with her. They wanted you, not her. Grace knew that. She was trying to fit in with them. She was desperate for friends—”
My voice cracked as I choked out, “How do you know that?”
He stopped for a second and then leaned forward. His voice was excited. “How do we know that she wanted friends? Or—”
“How do you know she was desperate?”
“She told us in her statement when she confessed about the hazing.”
“Oh.” And then I felt foolish. I knew that. I’d always known that.
“Witnesses told us that you had a confrontation with her. A sorority you were friendly with was caught pranking her sorority?”
His partner added, “Denton Steele was a witness as well.” She sighed. “I’d like to get his witness testimony.”
He chuckled. “Yeah, right. I’m sure his lawyers will open their doors for us.”
I held my breath as they fell silent. I knew what they were doing. I was in a vulnerable state. They attacked me and gave me an olive branch. They gave me something I thought they wanted or I could provide for them. I was supposed to jump on that. I was supposed to look up, eager, and tell them that I could call Denton. He’d give his account of that night. I was supposed to think he’d come in with support for me, but they’d use that to question him about my relationship with him.
Denton was a celebrity. He used to be my neighbor. Our parents were best friends, and once upon a time, we’d had sex, twice. One of those times was when I cheated on Bryce. Not a stellar reputation for me, but they knew that. What they didn’t know was that I wasn’t stupid.
I knew how to play the game. I’d been doing it since I was a child.
People feared me, but it was because I spoke the truth, and I went for the jugular. I knew how to take anyone down, except for friends . . . well . . . I took Grace down that night. I lashed out at her and humiliated her in front of her sorority friends. I enjoyed it, and I had plans to do it again, but then she shook me. She apologized and seemed to mean it. Not many did that. It was always fake. Everyone lied to cover their bases, but no one really changed.
That night, I thought Grace had changed.
Why would I want to harm someone for that?
They were wrong. It was a matter of time before they found the real killer. I had to believe that. I had to hope for that, otherwise—I drew in another shuddering breath—what else could I hope for?
An awkward silence filled the room, and I waited until the lady detective started to tap her pen again. It would happen—and then it did.
Tap, tap.
It was more urgent this time. She was growing impatient. And I could sense the anger in her. I hadn’t fallen into their trap. I held my breath and waited again. What was the next move?
“Okay, fine.” She shoved forward, and I heard her voice grow in volume. She was closer to me now. “You’re not stupid. We got it, but facts are facts. You were in Grace’s house the night she was murdered. If you didn’t do it, you saw who did. We both know you were there. We have video footage from the street.”
I looked up now and held her gaze. I didn’t blink.
She stopped for a second. She had brown eyes with bags underneath them. Her mascara was smudged. It looked like that had happened hours ago. And the tan complexion on her skin looked washed out. I asked in a quiet voice, “When’d you last sleep?”
She blinked.
“You look like you’ve been up for a couple of days now.”
A startled expression flashed over her, but she blinked again and shook it away. Her jaw hardened when she clipped out, “You want to psychoanalyze me? I’ve been up for thirty-six hours now because I’ve got a dead girl that shouldn’t be dead. And you know what really pisses me off? I’m pretty sure the girl who killed her did it out of spite and because her daddy is rich enough to get her off. This girl has some high-powered friends with lawyers that are already pounding our doors down. And I’m wondering which one of your rich boyfriends is paying their salary. So yeah, I’ve lost some sleep. Grace Barton was an innocent little girl who got caught up with the wrong, deadly group. She was playing a game with high stakes that she should’ve never been a part of, and I feel bad for her. I feel bad she ever considered you a friend.”
She shot out of her chair and leaned across the table. Her face was against mine. Her breath was hot on my skin as she snapped, “So cut the bullshit and tell us what happened.”
“I’ve got lawyers asking to see me?”
Her face twitched and her partner let loose curses under his breath.
“I want a lawyer,” I said it so calmly, as if I always sat in that chair, on that side of the table, with my life held in question. I knew my eyes were flat. They always went flat when I was on the attack, but my insides were churning.
Someone killed Grace, and they thought it was me.
Everything happened after that in a blur. They shot out of there with stiff shoulders and anger in their eyes. Three lawyers entered after that, and I thought Denton had sent them. They never questioned me, but they instructed me. I wasn’t supposed to say a word. I would be taken into holding, and I’d have to wait until bail was set. No matter the amount, I was reassured it would get paid.
I didn’t care.
Denton. Bryce. They both had money. So did I. My father made sure my inheritance was substantial before he disappeared years ago.
Then the lawyers told me that my mother was at the police station. She wanted to see me, but I shook my head. I didn’t want to deal with her. I hadn’t for the last few years, why start now? The two, now three, people that I did want to see were advised against coming. Their names needed to be clear from this media frenzy.
They sounded so sure of whatever their accusation was. I tried to remember back to the classroom and what they had said when they put the handcuffs on . . . “Sheldon Jeneve, you are under arrest for the murder of Grace Barton . . .”
The rest faded from memory. It happened twenty minutes ago.
“Look . . .”
The guy detective must’ve gotten bored. A tone of impatience was clear.
He continued, “Let’s cut the bullshit, okay? You and Grace were friends. We know that. You had a falling out. We know that, too. Then the night she admitted that she was the one who pushed you into a glass table, we found her dead. She died in her home, but I bet you knew that. Right? She was there because we think she was scared of her sorority, the sorority that wanted you to pledge. They wanted you, you bartered for her too, and then you backed out. They were stuck with her. They wanted you, not her. Grace knew that. She was trying to fit in with them. She was desperate for friends—”
My voice cracked as I choked out, “How do you know that?”
He stopped for a second and then leaned forward. His voice was excited. “How do we know that she wanted friends? Or—”
“How do you know she was desperate?”
“She told us in her statement when she confessed about the hazing.”
“Oh.” And then I felt foolish. I knew that. I’d always known that.
“Witnesses told us that you had a confrontation with her. A sorority you were friendly with was caught pranking her sorority?”
His partner added, “Denton Steele was a witness as well.” She sighed. “I’d like to get his witness testimony.”
He chuckled. “Yeah, right. I’m sure his lawyers will open their doors for us.”
I held my breath as they fell silent. I knew what they were doing. I was in a vulnerable state. They attacked me and gave me an olive branch. They gave me something I thought they wanted or I could provide for them. I was supposed to jump on that. I was supposed to look up, eager, and tell them that I could call Denton. He’d give his account of that night. I was supposed to think he’d come in with support for me, but they’d use that to question him about my relationship with him.
Denton was a celebrity. He used to be my neighbor. Our parents were best friends, and once upon a time, we’d had sex, twice. One of those times was when I cheated on Bryce. Not a stellar reputation for me, but they knew that. What they didn’t know was that I wasn’t stupid.
I knew how to play the game. I’d been doing it since I was a child.
People feared me, but it was because I spoke the truth, and I went for the jugular. I knew how to take anyone down, except for friends . . . well . . . I took Grace down that night. I lashed out at her and humiliated her in front of her sorority friends. I enjoyed it, and I had plans to do it again, but then she shook me. She apologized and seemed to mean it. Not many did that. It was always fake. Everyone lied to cover their bases, but no one really changed.
That night, I thought Grace had changed.
Why would I want to harm someone for that?
They were wrong. It was a matter of time before they found the real killer. I had to believe that. I had to hope for that, otherwise—I drew in another shuddering breath—what else could I hope for?
An awkward silence filled the room, and I waited until the lady detective started to tap her pen again. It would happen—and then it did.
Tap, tap.
It was more urgent this time. She was growing impatient. And I could sense the anger in her. I hadn’t fallen into their trap. I held my breath and waited again. What was the next move?
“Okay, fine.” She shoved forward, and I heard her voice grow in volume. She was closer to me now. “You’re not stupid. We got it, but facts are facts. You were in Grace’s house the night she was murdered. If you didn’t do it, you saw who did. We both know you were there. We have video footage from the street.”
I looked up now and held her gaze. I didn’t blink.
She stopped for a second. She had brown eyes with bags underneath them. Her mascara was smudged. It looked like that had happened hours ago. And the tan complexion on her skin looked washed out. I asked in a quiet voice, “When’d you last sleep?”
She blinked.
“You look like you’ve been up for a couple of days now.”
A startled expression flashed over her, but she blinked again and shook it away. Her jaw hardened when she clipped out, “You want to psychoanalyze me? I’ve been up for thirty-six hours now because I’ve got a dead girl that shouldn’t be dead. And you know what really pisses me off? I’m pretty sure the girl who killed her did it out of spite and because her daddy is rich enough to get her off. This girl has some high-powered friends with lawyers that are already pounding our doors down. And I’m wondering which one of your rich boyfriends is paying their salary. So yeah, I’ve lost some sleep. Grace Barton was an innocent little girl who got caught up with the wrong, deadly group. She was playing a game with high stakes that she should’ve never been a part of, and I feel bad for her. I feel bad she ever considered you a friend.”
She shot out of her chair and leaned across the table. Her face was against mine. Her breath was hot on my skin as she snapped, “So cut the bullshit and tell us what happened.”
“I’ve got lawyers asking to see me?”
Her face twitched and her partner let loose curses under his breath.
“I want a lawyer,” I said it so calmly, as if I always sat in that chair, on that side of the table, with my life held in question. I knew my eyes were flat. They always went flat when I was on the attack, but my insides were churning.
Someone killed Grace, and they thought it was me.
Everything happened after that in a blur. They shot out of there with stiff shoulders and anger in their eyes. Three lawyers entered after that, and I thought Denton had sent them. They never questioned me, but they instructed me. I wasn’t supposed to say a word. I would be taken into holding, and I’d have to wait until bail was set. No matter the amount, I was reassured it would get paid.
I didn’t care.
Denton. Bryce. They both had money. So did I. My father made sure my inheritance was substantial before he disappeared years ago.
Then the lawyers told me that my mother was at the police station. She wanted to see me, but I shook my head. I didn’t want to deal with her. I hadn’t for the last few years, why start now? The two, now three, people that I did want to see were advised against coming. Their names needed to be clear from this media frenzy.
