Wicked White
Page 51

I let out a breath slowly, relieved that at least he doesn’t know Ace’s last name, and just as I think we’re in the clear of Ace getting out of this situation without being named, Jeremy’s green eyes lock on mine and his face contorts in anger.
He points his long, slender finger in my direction. “Ask her his last name. She’s fucking him.”
I gasp just as every pair of eyes snaps onto me.
Oh. Shit.
The young cop who was once so concerned about me now stares at me through narrowed eyes. “Miss, I’m going to need you to come with me. I need to ask you a few questions.”
I reluctantly nod and push myself to my feet and follow the cop out Jeremy’s door. Suddenly it hits me that the best defense is a good offense. I need to try to make this police officer understand that Ace isn’t the monster that Jeremy’s bruised-up face makes him out to be.
Once we are by the car, the officer turns to me. “I’m Officer Rugger. Your name?”
“Iris Easton.”
He writes that down. “Tell me what happened here exactly.”
I swallow hard. “It started a couple of months ago . . .”
I go into great detail about how Jeremy got rough with me a couple of months ago and Ace stepped in to defend me. The officer takes diligent notes of my account as I go on to tell him about Jeremy’s taunting last night and how we discovered my place ransacked this morning.
Officer Rugger raises his eyebrows as he stares down at me. “I’ll need to see your place and question Jeremy about his involvement in the burglary in question. It’s imperative that I locate Ace. I’ll need to confirm your story, and it’s likely that Jeremy Winkler is going to press charges.”
“I . . . um . . .” I hesitate, not wanting to give any information on Ace but knowing that it’s not going to be possible if the cop keeps pressing me.
“His name, Ms. Easton.” The irritated tone in the cop’s voice doesn’t go unnoticed by me.
I don’t like being forced to reveal Ace’s last name. Even though that’s not public information, it’s still not a good idea for me divulge anything that can be traced back to him, but since Johnson isn’t what the public knows him as, it might not stir up any trouble.
I stare up at the young Officer Rugger and sigh. “It’s Ace Johnson.”
He stops writing. “He’s not by chance the same Ace Johnson who’s also known as Ace White, is he? The press wasn’t privy to the star’s real name, but it was told confidentially to the officers in Columbus and surrounding areas.”
I raise my brow. I thought no one knew his name. Ace has no clue about this, I’m sure. He needs to know. As soon as all these people clear out, I’ll call him and let him know, even though I’m sure I’m the last person he wants to talk to, considering what I just said to him.
I debate lying to the cop if it would give Ace more time to get away, but ultimately decide against it because I don’t want to end up in jail for not complying with the law.
I nod and Officer Rugger’s mouth drops open while his eyes grow wide and he reaches for the radio on his shoulder, clicking the button to call in to the police station. “Base, do you copy? This is Rugger. I have a possible sighting of the missing person Ace Johnson, aka Ace White.”
There’s silence on the radio, and then the female dispatcher confirms the information that Officer Rugger just gave her.
The officer surveys the trailer park and then returns his gaze to me. “This is a pretty good place to hide out—no cable. No Internet. He couldn’t have picked a place more back in time on modernization. No wonder he came here.” He shakes his head before refocusing on me. “Ready to show me your place?”
I spend the next few hours going over again the story of how I met Ace and what occurred last night, leading to the fight today. Somehow the news of Ace being here leaks to the press and reporters swarm the trailer park almost immediately.
After the cops leave, the reporters stay put, surrounding my place and Ace’s, yelling my name and asking questions every time I open the front door. I pace back and forth inside my trailer, scared out of my mind that I’ve just managed to make things much worse for Ace by verifying his last known residence. This is exactly what he was afraid would happen.
I stare out my kitchen window and laugh when I see one of the reporters knock on Adele’s door only to get beaten when a broom-wielding Adele answers, shooing them off her property. She’s obviously not talking.
Wish I could say the same about all the other neighbors.
Reporters line the gravel street that stretches down the middle of the trailer park, separating the trailers into two neat rows. All of the camera crews flood into the road, talking to any residents in the park willing to dish out a little dirt.
A persistent knock on my front door catches my attention, and I do my best to ignore it, but this person refuses to give up.
Angry with the way they keep trying to intrude into my personal life, I rush over to the door and yank it open. “What?”
“Jesus, Iris. Chill.” Birdie holds her hands up.
I reach out, grab her jacket, and yank her inside. “Get in here.”
I slam the door behind her and then lean against it, closing my eyes, wishing this nightmare was over and life would return to the way it was a couple of weeks ago. Before all this madness came down on us—back when Ace was blissfully hiding from the rest of the world here with me.