by SJ Bishop
"I'm coming over," I told her suddenly.
"Bye, Jax," she mumbled, hanging up.
Shit.
I pulled my pants and jersey on as fast as I could. I hoped Treena would understand when I explained this to her in the morning. For now, I might as well let her sleep. This was my problem, not hers. I wasn't about to rock the delicate balance of our newly established relationship by telling her that I had to run to my ex-wife's house in the middle of the night.
I scratched out a quick note for her:
Sorry, had to run. I have an early day. I'll call you later. Don't forget, you owe me a rematch.
-Jax
I left the note on her nightstand and kissed her cheek before rushing to my car.
10
Treena
My phone was ringing. I opened my eyes and blinked. The stream of light that burst from my LED screen was surprisingly bright, considering how small my phone was.
I looked at the caller ID. Keith Anderson. Great. For a second I panicked, thinking I was late for work. But it was only five. I still had two hours. I pushed answer and looked to my left, not wanting to wake Jax. He wasn't in bed.
"Hello," I said, turning on my bedside lamp. I saw my birth control sitting there and realized I'd almost forgotten to take it. I swallowed it back with a swig from my water bottle.
"Walker," he grunted. "It's Anderson."
"Yeah, what's up?" What's up? What is this, high school? Come on, wake up. "I mean... what do you need?"
"What I need," he said, his voice sounded taxed and I wondered how long he'd been awake himself, "... is for you to get down here. You were so anxious to get out in the field yesterday; well, now's your chance."
I jumped out of bed, suddenly awake. "There's been a homicide?" I asked. I started pulling clothes out of my closet and getting dressed while Anderson continued to talk.
"That's right. Some quarterback shot his ex-wife. This is the chance you wanted to prove to me that the detective's exam you took wasn't all bullshit."
Excitement coursed through me. "Give me the address where you want me to meet you." I went to my nightstand and picked up the pad and pen I kept there. That's when I saw Jax's note. My brow furrowed for a second, and I lost my concentration on what Anderson was saying.
He had an early morning?
Shit. I hoped that was true. I hoped it wasn't just some bullshit excuse he was using to sneak out of here because he'd had second thoughts. Why hadn't he woken me up before he left? This sure seemed like he was trying to slink out of here without having to explain himself. My heart hammered in my chest. Had I just made a huge mistake? Had Clarissa's warning about being careful around Jax been right, after all? It occurred to me that I'd never even texted her after getting home last night. She was gonna lay into me for that when I talked to her later. Anderson was still talking, and I realized that I'd completely missed the address he'd given me.
"I'm sorry," I told him, feeling my cheeks color. I had to focus if I was gonna show Anderson and the rest of the department I deserved to be a detective. If I wanted to prove myself, I couldn't just be as good as them, I had to be better than them. "Could you repeat that address one more time?"
He sighed but gave it to me again. I wrote it down and stuck it in my wallet so I wouldn't lose it.
"We're arresting Jax Ryder right now. I'll expect you here in twenty minutes to help us search the premises."
My heart stopped. I shook my head, trying to clear it. I must still be half-asleep. Come on. Wake up and pull yourself together.
"I'm sorry, whom did you say you're arresting?"
"Jax Ryder. Some hotshot quarterback for the Jets. A real scumbag, too. Shot his ex, right in the back." My stomach folded over on itself, and I bent over at the waist, inhaling deeply. I felt like I was gonna throw up.
"I'll see you in twenty," Anderson said and hung up. I dropped my phone to the ground and closed my eyes. This couldn't be true. I had to still be dreaming. I had to be. There was no way Jax could've killed his ex-wife. No way. I glanced at the note he'd left for me: I have an early day.
When had he left my apartment? I took another deep breath and held it. I forced myself to straighten up. When I realized I wasn't gonna puke, I grabbed my keys and headed for my car. I wouldn't know more until I got down to the crime scene. This had to be a mistake, and the faster I got there, the faster I could prove it.
11
Jax
I closed my eyes and counted to ten. When I opened them again, I was still in Penny's front yard, covered in her blood, and the police detective was still trying to interrogate me. Everything seemed distant and strange, like I was on a bad acid trip. I tried to focus, but my eyes kept drifting to Penny's corpse as they wheeled it past me. I took one small step backward and the detective leapt forward as if I was about to make a run for it. He gripped my arm then made a face when he realized the palm of his hand was now covered in blood.
"Wilson!" the detective shouted. "Bring me a towel!"
A man in a blue officer's uniform, wandering around with his police tape, looked up and nodded. "Right away, Detective Anderson."
"Do you think I could get some clean clothes?" I croaked. I barely recognized my own voice. It sounded hoarse and far away.
"Clothes?" Detective Anderson asked, chuckling. "Sure, you can get some clean clothes when we take you down to the station and throw you in a cell." He turned and raised an eyebrow at another officer as if to say, Can you believe this guy? Wilson handed him a towel, and Detective Anderson wiped his hands on it before throwing it in a trash heap.
"A cell?" I asked. "What are you talking about?"
Detective Anderson went on as if I hadn't spoken. "Now, tell me one more time. What happened here tonight?"
I tried to still the trembling in my hands, but it was like I was detoxing all over again. I opened my mouth to speak. My throat was so dry and sore it felt as if it had been rubbed raw with sandpaper. When I'd come in and found Penny's body in a bloody heap, even the tough guy in me couldn't force back the scream that had risen in my throat.
I'd rung the bell a couple of times before deciding I had better just go inside. I still had my key. Penny had never bothered to change the locks, so I just walked right on in. At first, I'd thought I was looking at a mannequin. She was lying face down, her arm bent at an odd angle and her blonde hair caked in red. A pool of blood ran over the hardwood floor of our kitchen—her kitchen—and I stared at it for several seconds before my brain finally comprehended that this was no mannequin
"Penny?" I'd asked. "Penny?" I’d walked closer to the lump that used to be my wife and knelt down, reaching out one hand to shake her. Her blood had soaked into my jeans. It was still warm. I’d rolled her over and saw her eyes opened wide in surprise. I had been too late. Penny had actually done it. A moment later, the cops had arrived.
"Mr. Ryder," Detective Anderson said, and I realized he was addressing me. “How long have you been standing here?”
"I told you what happened," I said. "Penny called me. She was upset. I came over to help her and found her... dead. I... I can't believe she really did it. I tried to stop her."
"So she was already dead when you arrived?"
"That's what I've been saying! Aren't you listening?" My anger flared, and I fought to keep it in check. The last thing I needed was to get into a shouting match with a police detective.
A flurry of reporters suddenly rushed the scene, crossing the yellow police tape the cops had put up all around the house. The officers hustled to push them back. Camera flashes went off left and right, making my head spin. This was worse than when I'd stumbled drunk from the locker room after my final game last season. At least that incident had been forgotten in a fog of beer and hard liquor. Now I was dead sober.
"Jesus, keep these reporters out of here!" Detective Anderson shouted at the group of cops milling around. "This is a crime scene, for Christ’s sake, not an amusement park!"
There was a rumbl
ing of complaints from some of the cops, but I noticed several of them moved closer to the police tape.
"Alright, alright," Detective Anderson said to himself, shaking his head. He kept making these odd faces, like he'd eaten something foul tasting. He pursed his lips together and squinted at the ground. When he looked back up, it was with new determination. "Let's just get you down to the station; we can go over everything there."
"Why do I need to go to the station?" I asked, finally starting to snap out of the trance I'd been in. Something felt off about the way Detective Anderson kept questioning me. "I just want to get home and get out of these clothes."
"This isn't a choice, Mr. Ryder. You're going down to the station with me." He unhooked the handcuffs from his belt. They dangled ominously from his fingertips, and something suddenly clicked into place.
"Am I being arrested?"
Detective Anderson's answer was to place his hand on my shoulder and spin me around. I couldn't help myself. I reacted by lurching forward and snapping my arm away from him in an attempt to free it from his grip. Two other officers rushed me, each taking hold of one arm as Detective Anderson forced the cuffs around my wrists.
"Why are you arresting me?" I cried out as camera flashes went off in a blinding wave of light.
"Jax Ryder, you are under arrest for the murder of Penny Ryder. You have the right to remain silent—"
"What the fuck are you talking about? I didn't kill Penny! She killed herself."
"People don't shoot themselves in the forehead, Mr. Ryder," Detective Anderson said. "And they don't hide their gun after they're already dead. Only murderers do that."
"I didn't kill Penny!" I shouted again.
"Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed for you."
I felt sick to my stomach. Detective Anderson spun me toward a police cruiser. I stumbled toward it, unable to believe this was happening. The whole thing was too surreal. Just then, an unmarked car pulled up to the scene. The door opened and Treena stepped out. We stared at each other a long minute before she shut her door and started toward us.
12
Treena
"About time you showed up," Anderson said.
"I got here as fast as I could," I said, trying to keep my voice steady. My heart raced in my chest as I approached him and Jax. What the hell was going on here? Jax was covered in blood. He looked like he'd... well, like he'd killed someone.
"Thank God you're here," Jax said when I got close enough. I froze. If Anderson knew that I'd been with Jax earlier tonight, I'd be off the case in a heartbeat. I'd never be able to help Jax; he'd be completely on his own. And I'd lose any credibility I had in the department. Not that I had much to begin with, but if it got around that I'd slept with the first murder suspect I'd been sent to investigate, I might as well transfer out of the department tonight. I'd never be able to live it down.
Anderson looked from me to Jax. "Do you know this man?" he asked me.
"No," I immediately said and sent Jax a silent plea with my eyes to back me up. At least until I knew more about the situation. I was positive Jax hadn't killed anyone. This would all be sorted out in a few hours, and Jax would be able to go home. If, somehow, my being with Jax tonight was critical to proving his innocence, then I'd step up in the blink of an eye. But there was no point in ruining my entire career if it wasn't necessary.
Anderson looked at me skeptically. Jax's lips tightened, but finally he said, "No, but a beautiful woman compared to your ugly mug is always gonna be a welcome addition. Maybe she's got more sense than you and will actually listen to what I've got to say instead of crucifying me without knowing the facts."
Anderson rolled his eyes but seemed to accept our statements. "You can fill us both in at the station," he said and shoved Jax's shoulder toward the car. Jax reacted with an angry snarl and jerked away from him. I quickly put out a restraining hand. Even in handcuffs, I was pretty sure Jax could pulverize Anderson if he wanted to. He was a football player and twice the size of Anderson.
"Why don't you just give me a quick summary of what happened," I asked him, shooting a quick glance toward Anderson, who kept one hand on Jax's shoulder and the other on his gun.
Jax looked at me and cleared his throat. His golden skin was tinged with varying shades of pink. A dark red smear ran across his forehead. "I got a call from Penny, my ex-wife. It was late. She was drunk. She said she was gonna kill herself. I came over here to stop her. When I got here, she was already dead."
"Did you see anything or anyone?" I asked.
"No."
"You didn't hear anything?"
Jax shook his head.
Anderson rolled his eyes. "Alright, enough of this bullshit. If you didn't kill her, where were you between midnight and four a.m.?"
Jax looked at me. "I was with a friend," he said.
"A friend, huh?" Anderson smirked. "Does this friend have a name?"
Shit.
Could this really be happening? Was I really Jax's alibi?
"Why midnight and four?" I asked.
Anderson rolled his eyes again and let out an exasperated sigh. "Because that's when the coroner is placing the initial time of death. We'll be able to narrow it down a bit more after he does an autopsy."
My mind worked fast. I'd fallen asleep sometime around two. I had no idea when Jax had left my apartment. I'd woken up at five when Anderson called me. I could place Jax with me from midnight to two, but not after that. Then Anderson said something that rattled me to the core.
"We have a witness."
"A witness?" I asked, trying not to show my alarm. Jax looked just as startled as I felt.
"That's right."
"What time does the witness place him here?"
Anderson stepped closer to me and lowered his voice so only I could hear. "It's a little tricky. The woman is quite elderly and isn't certain of the exact time, but she knows it was late. Within the coroner's estimate."
Jax was watching us. It felt like there was a tug of war going on inside my brain. On one side was the rational me. The me that knew the right thing to do would be to tell Anderson everything. Right now. The other side was the me who'd wanted to be a cop since fourth grade. The me who'd stayed up nights studying for the detective's exam. The me who didn't want to ruin the one thing in my life that had given me focus and made me feel whole.
"I'm taking him down," Anderson said. "Meet us at the station."
I nodded, watching him put Jax into the back of his car before getting back into my own. What the hell was I gonna do now?
13
Jax
I was mad. Fuck that. I was pissed. What the hell was Treena thinking? What the hell was I thinking? The second Detective Anderson had placed Penny's death between midnight and four, I should've told him that I was with Treena. I almost had. I'd opened my mouth, the words at the back of my throat, but then I'd seen her eyes. They were worried and afraid and begged me not to say anything.
I'd shut my mouth.
As I sat in the interrogation room, feeling the lights from above weighing on me like a shoulder press, I couldn't help wondering if I was making a huge mistake. Treena stood next to Detective Anderson, looking pale and worn. Even now she was beautiful. Last night, I'd won a second chance with her. I couldn't do anything to lose that chance now or I'd never get it back. Still, I wasn't crazy. Going to jail was not an option. I'd lose everything I'd worked for, including my second chance with Treena. If it came down to it, I decided, I'd have to give her up as my alibi. But that time wasn't now. My lawyer was on his way, and I wanted to wait until he got here. I also wanted to talk to Treena alone, first.
Detective Anderson banged his fist on the table. It rattled the glass of water they'd given me but missed having the effect I thought he was after. He was trying to scare me. And yes I was rattled, but not by him. It was the image of Penny that haunted me. The
idea that anyone might think me capable of killing her. I'd been in some tough situations before, though, and had always come through. I wasn't about to let Detective Anderson push me into saying or doing something I might regret later.
"If you didn't kill her, then who did?" Detective Anderson said through gritted teeth. His eyes narrowed into slits, and his lips actually seemed to shrink. I had to bite my tongue to stop myself from laughing. He looked constipated.
"I have no idea," I told him.
He paced the room, glancing at the large mirror on the wall where I knew others were watching and probably recording everything I said. At least they'd given me some clean clothes before they'd put me in here.
"Alright, let's try this again," he said. "Where did you hide the gun?"
I let out a long breath. We'd been going in circles for over an hour already.
"I think I should wait for my lawyer to get here before I say anything else," I finally said. I'd called Geoffrey Stevens upon arriving at the station and knew he had to be on his way.
"Of course," Detective Anderson said. "That's your right. Usually, it's only the guilty who use that right, but hey, what do I know? I've just got eight years on the force working homicide."
Treena's eyes bugged out of her head. "Keith, that's not really fair," she said. Detective Anderson circled on her, and I saw her cringe.
"I think I know a little more about this than you, Detective Walker. Unless you think that spending two full days as a homicide detective somehow makes you more qualified than me. If that's the case, then go ahead. Question Mr. Ryder. Let's see that perfect exam score of yours in action."
I wanted to wipe the smug look right off that asshole's face. I didn't like the way he was talking to Treena or to me. He clearly thought he was better than everyone else. It made me want to keep my mouth shut and keep Treena out of this. I could see why she didn't want me to say anything. If that asshole ever got wind that we were together last night, he'd probably use it to his own advantage. God only knew what a snob like him might do with that type of information.
