I resist the urge to look behind me. I know they’re on the other side of that one-way mirror, looking in. Watching me. I told them I shot him. I don’t know how many times. When they asked me why, the answer was easy. But then they asked questions I couldn’t answer. Where I got the gun. Why a man’s shoe prints were found at the scene. I went silent. I won’t say anything that can implicate him in murder. I’m trapped and alone. I turn my head to the other side, letting the chill calm my heated skin.
All for Zander.
I lift my head, sitting back in the metal chair as I remember the look in his eyes when he laid me on the bed. It touched me in ways I couldn’t imagine. Made me feel like I was the most precious thing. Like I was his.
A tear threatens to fall down my cheek, but I fight it back. I can’t break down. Not here. Not now.
There’s no way I can let Zander take the fall for me. Danny is dead because of me. He killed him to save me. I’m not going to let Zander pay for my mistake. Just the thought of him going to prison for the rest of his life fills me with so much guilt and shame.
No matter what they do or say, I can’t let them break me. I pick at my nails, wishing for some miracle. Hoping that telling them what he did to me is enough. It should be. Shouldn’t it?
I keep my neck stiff, staring straight ahead when the door to the interrogation room opens and booted feet smack across this floor. I even keep my head down as the two hardened detectives sit down at the table across from me.
“Are you ready to speak with us, Miss Owens?” Detective Richter asks harshly, a thirty-something tall man with a chiseled jawline and a receding hairline, his deep voice filling the small hollow room like a bass. Out of the side of my eye, I can see him staring at me with an irritated scowl, his muscular arms folded across his chest. Dressed in a plain white dress shirt and blue jeans, he’s not wearing a badge, his gun holstered at his waist.
“I already told you I did it.”
The two men share a glance before Detective Richter replies, “You need to give us more than that.”
I don’t say a word.
“You don’t have to be afraid to speak,” his partner, Detective Lawson, says more gently, resting his elbows on the table and leaning forward with his hands clasped. He seems the more levelheaded of the two, with short dark hair, broad shoulders and a large nose. Unlike Detective Richter, he has a badge, a large golden ornament, proudly on display on his right breast. He doesn’t have a gun. “You’re away from prying ears now and can speak freely.” He waits for a moment to see if I’ll respond before saying, “We promise you, we’re just trying to do our best to help you.”
I nearly snort out a laugh at the bullshit. Though I’m not well-versed in law or cop tactics, I at least know that they are not my friends and they are not trying to help. I would be a fool to trust them.
I keep my head down, clenching my jaw. If they’re expecting they’ll get me to talk, they’ll be waiting a damn long time. I’m not saying shit other than what I’ve already told them.
The sound of the clock ticking on the wall fills the silence. Tick tock, tick tock.
“Look up when Detective Lawson is speaking to you,” Detective Richter says irritably, suddenly.
Go fuck yourself, I want to growl, but don’t.
I know Detective Richter is only doing his job, but he has no idea what I’ve been through. And if he thinks being firm with me will get him what he wants then he’s sadly mistaken.
“Don’t make this hard on yourself. We all know you’re lying.”
I freeze, wondering if they really do. I almost part my lips to say, “How?” but then remember the tactics the cops use. No matter what they say to me, I need to stay quiet. It’s better that way. I’ll be quiet, I’ll get a lawyer. They can blame me for killing him when they see what he did to me. I’ll claim self-defense, or maybe insanity. I pick at my nails, the fear and anxiety weighing heavily against my heart.
“Do you honestly expect us to believe a woman like you killed Danny Brooks when he had so many enemies?” Detective Richter demands.
I remain silent.
Detective Richter snorts when he sees I don’t react. “Or let me put it better for you; do you honestly expect us to believe that a woman in your condition, a woman who’d just been beaten within the inch of her life, was in any position to kill her lover?”
Again, I don’t respond, keeping my face stoic and pointed downward against the table, even though the word lover throws me off.
Just a little while longer, I tell myself.
“You’re making this hard for yourself,” Detective Lawson says in a way more calming tone. “We don’t want to see you locked up for a crime you didn’t do. All you have to do is tell us why your new boyfriend killed him.”
I stay still, clenching my jaw, my eyes closed tightly.
Silence descends upon the room.
Detective Richter starts to say something, but he’s interrupted by a knock at the door.
A young man sticks his head in, opening the door just enough and says, “Someone here to see you, Detective Richter.”
Detective Richter glances at me, his jaw clenching. “Can it wait?”
The man glances outside the door and then shakes his head.
Detective Richter sighs and gets up from his seat and nods to Detective Lawson before leaving the room.
It’s quiet when he’s gone and I stay in the same position, feeling sharp pricks along my back. I shudder at the thought of having to sleep on a hard bed with my aching wounds.
“Don’t be unnerved by Richter,” Detective Lawson says, breaking the silence. “He tries to get a rise out of all our interviewees, to put them off guard.”
I ignore him. He can try to be nice all he wants, but he’s not getting anything out of me.
“You can talk to me,” Detective Lawson presses. “I’m on your side here.”
I continue to sit there, not saying a word. I just want this all to end.
Detective Lawson inhales as if to say more when the door opens, and in walks Detective Richter with an impeccably dressed woman in a business suit, her shiny blonde hair finely coiffed.
“Up, Miss Owens,” Richter practically barks.
For the first time since coming into the interrogation room, I lift my head up, wondering what the hell is going on.
“Why?” I demand, my voice sounding hoarse and raw from screaming the other night. “Is it time for me to go to jail?”
Before he can answer, the woman next to him says, “Hello Miss Owens, I’m Dana Mills, the lawyer that’s been hired to represent you.”
“What?” I ask, my face twisting in confusion. “I didn’t hire-”
“Mr. Payne hired me as your counsel,” Dana says.
I try to keep my hands from trembling. “I’m guilty. I’ve already admitted that I’m the one who killed Danny Brooks. I’m going to jail.”
Dana has a sad expression on her face as she gazes at me, but it quickly turns professional once again. “Please come with me. We’ve got to get you prepared for your pretrial hearing.”
Chapter 33
Zander
My hands are white-knuckled as I grip onto the back of the wooden row of seats in front of me. This isn’t real. It can’t be. This isn’t how it’s supposed to go down.
“Just stay quiet,” my father says from my right and it’s a damn good thing my grasp is on the bench. The need to beat the shit out of him is riding me hard. He got me out. He pulled his strings and got me out. But she’s still in custody.
“She didn’t do it,” I tell him again. My voice is raw, my eyes stinging and bloodshot. I haven’t slept, eaten. I look and feel the same.
“Get yourself together,” my father says through clenched teeth as if anyone in here could hear him.
There’s hardly a soul in the courtroom. The judge isn’t here yet, but the defense, Miss Mills, and prosecution are at their benches as is the court reporter and a few people occupying several seats
of the benches where my father and I are. Although we’re alone in the row.
“She didn’t do it,” I tell him again, this time turning my head to face him. He’s clean-shaven and his suit is crisp. If anything, he looks better today than he has in years. I’m slumped forward and next to him I imagine I look the opposite. Unkempt, although my suit is at least clean and pressed.
I let out a shaky breath as the back door opens in front of me, just to the left of the witness stand and a cop ushers my sweetheart in.
My heart crumples in my chest as I lean forward. She doesn’t look at me. Her eyes are on her hands as she walks in.
I hate my father. I hate trusting him. He promised me she’d be alright. But this is too much.
Please don’t say anything, Arianna.
They couldn’t charge me with her confession. My father’s spinning stories in the press and coming up with plans and deals. But all of them leave her here in the courtroom to face the charges. I only need to hear the bail amount so I can pay it and take her away.
We can run. I’ll run forever with her. I have enough money. I’ll take her wherever we can hide.
“All rise,” the bailiff says in a commanding voice and I lift my heavy body, but I don’t move my eyes away from my sweetheart.
Her hair sways as she stands, and I get a glimpse of her profile as she turns her head to watch the judge come through the heavy double doors on the right. Her cheeks are reddened and tearstained. The sight of her in an orange jumpsuit shreds me.
My father’s hand rests on my shoulder and I slowly pull my eyes away from her to look into his gaze. The same eyes as mine.
“She’ll be fine,” he tells me beneath his breath. The bail hearing continues as I search his face for something to give me confidence in him, trying to settle the disdain rising to the surface.
“And what are the allegations against the defendant?” I hear the judge’s heavy voice call out.
“Murder in the second degree,” the prosecution answers the judge.
“I need her out of here,” I tell my father, my body trembling with the need to go to her. The skin over my knuckles feels as though it will split if I grip the bench any harder.
“She shouldn’t be there-” I tell him, but he cuts me off.
“Quiet,” my father hisses, the admonishment clear in his voice. I’ve never needed him. Not for one goddamned thing in my life. But right now I do.
“She’s not a flight risk,” I hear my attorney say. Dana’s the best there is. She’ll get her out. But I need it to happen now. Today.
“On the contrary, it’s evident that she has access to financial means. Enough to flee the country.”
“What access?” Miss Mills asks with disbelief. The room spins around me as I take in the words, white noise drowning out parts of the conversation as I turn back to Arianna. She’s staring ahead just as she was on the stage at the auction. Accepting her fate.
“She’s involved with an individual with enough money and means, and reason might I add, to carry her out of the country.” My heart sinks in my chest. No. No. They can’t keep her.
“The charges against my client, make it clear that no one else is in danger of-” my attorney rebuts.
“She confessed to murder,” the prosecution cuts off my attorney.
“What was said is inadmissible, she was under duress at the time and the prosecution is well aware of the circumstances.”
“I did it!” The words are ripped from my throat as I stand there, staring at the judge. I can feel her eyes on me as I step out into the aisle, finally letting go of the bench.
My father reaches for me, grabbing my arm and shoving his hand over my mouth. I turn in his grasp and land my fist against his jaw, the stinging pain ringing through my numb body.
“Zander,” my father looks back at me with his hand over his jaw. There's a bit of blood covering his teeth and spilling out onto his hand. His face isn’t one of anger, there’s no hate. His expression is simply one of denial.
“I shot Daniel Brooks twice.” I turn and face the judge, only then aware of the sounds of the people around me and the flash of a camera.
“Zander, no!” Arianna’s soft voice travels to me, her words full of pain. I close my eyes, ignoring her plea. She never should have tried to pull this shit. I won’t let her. I swallow thickly and continue.
“I came to his home and saw the defendant there. I knew she was there.” My father tries to cut me off, but I continue. “I came with my gun and I shot him.” The words leave my hollow chest, each one ripping and clawing at my throat on the way out, begging to take the memories with them. “I killed him, and I’d do it again.”
“This is a stunt, your Honor,” the prosecution calls out, his voice high and carrying an air of disbelief.
I catch sight of my attorney but she’s looking at my father, her lips pressed together.
Through all the banging of the gavel, the chatter of the people behind me, the attorneys arguing and judge speaking over everyone, all I can hear is Arianna. “Zander, no,” and her small cry breaks my heart.
I hear the footsteps of the cop’s shoes against the thin carpet of the courtroom before his hands are on me.
Chapter 34
Arianna
“You’re a free woman, Miss Owens,” Dana tells me as we pull up to my shared apartment with Natalie, the smooth hum of the Mercedes engine running.
Her words bring me no joy. I don’t want to be free. I shouldn’t be here.
I suck in a sharp breath as Zander’s words ring in my mind. I did it! I shot Daniel Brooks twice.
I shake my head at the memory, filled with despair. He should’ve kept quiet. He should’ve let me take the fall.
Seeing him dragged from the courtroom nearly brought me to my knees.
Noting the anguish on my face, Dana gently pats me on the knee. “That’s a brave thing you did, trying to take the fall for Mr. Payne.”
I make a face. “Brave? Or stupid?” The question is rhetorical. What I did wasn’t smart, but smart doesn't matter in this case.
A wistful, empathetic expression comes over Dana. “I think we’ve all done something not so wise in the name of love, Miss Owens.”
I inhale deeply at the word love. It’s true. And something I’ve known for a while now. I love Zander. And I don’t want to see him rot in a jail cell on my behalf no matter what he did.
“Don’t worry,” Dana assures me at my distant, pained expression. “Everything is going to work out fine.”
“Do you think so?” I ask, feeling a small glimmer of hope.
Dana gives me a confident nod. “Mr. Payne is a resourceful man. And so is his father. If anyone can figure a way out of this mess, they can.”
I know she’s trying to comfort me, but she can’t know that for sure. Zander committed murder. Even confessed to it. I want to believe that things are going to be okay, but right now, I’m not seeing a way out.
“Thank you,” I say to Dana, giving a nod and flashing a weak smile. “I really appreciate all your help.”
“You’re very welcome, Miss Owens,” Dana replies. “Take care.”
I open the door and step out of the vehicle and watch as she drives off in her gleaming chrome Mercedes-Benz. After a moment I turn around and take in the apartment building, noting the cream-colored stucco walls and the units that are almost too close together.
It feels strange coming back here after everything I’ve gone through. And I dread having to go inside, knowing the questions that await me there. But I have to do it. I need someone to confide in.
My heart races as I make my way up the stairs and to my apartment with Natalie. By the time I reach the door, my breathing is heavy and ragged, a little from climbing the stairs and some from the crushing anxiety that I feel.
“What the hell is going on, Ari?” Natalie demands as soon as I step through the door.
My chest fills with warmth slightly at the sight of her. I haven’t seen her in days a
nd I’m grateful to finally lay eyes on her face. She looks beside herself, her hair’s a mess, and it looks like she’s lost a few pounds in the little time since I last saw her.
“Your mug has been plastered all over the news!” Natalie hisses when I don’t answer right away. “It’s crazy!” She shakes her head in anger. “I tried getting into the courthouse to see you, but I couldn’t get inside.” She pauses, peering at me with concern. “Is it really true?”
“Is what true?” I ask.
“Did that Zander… Zander Payne… Did he really murder Danny to save you?” Natalie asks with intensity.
I stare at her for a long time, setting my keys down on the counter and recounting the last few weeks. It hurts to take in a breath as I look back at her wide, pleading eyes. Slowly, I nod my head. “He did… if he hadn’t...” my voice trails off as pain pulses my back. My wounds have been healing, but they still hurt like hell. I don’t know when the pain will stop. If it will ever stop. I’ll have scars for the rest of my life, but none of that matters compared to what Zander’s facing.
“Jesus,” Natalie mutters, shaking her head. “I can’t believe it.” She looks up at me, her eyes shining with relief. “Thank God you’re still alive.” She comes forward to give me a hug.
I hold her at arm's length. “Please don’t touch me.”
She covers her mouth quickly, pain reflected in her eyes. “I’m sorry,” she breathes the words. She visibly swallows as I lower my arms. “He hit you? Right?” Danny did?” Her words are slow, said with a lowered voice.
I turn around and lift my shirt slightly up my back for a brief moment. Natalie recoils as I turn back around, her face twisting in disgusted disbelief.
Silence falls over the room for a moment.
“I need you to tell me everything,” Natalie says, finally breaking the silence. She looks shaken to the core, visibly trembling.
Given: Highest Bidder Page 17
