Chapter 33
Chapter Thirty-Three
JAX
The station walls feel like they’re closing in. Beige paint, fluorescent lights that buzz and flicker, and that goddamn clock on the wall tick-tick-ticking away every second. The sound crawls over my skin, and I glare at the stupid timekeeper.
The officers separated us the moment we walked through the door. Knox went left, Brax went right, and I got shoved into this cramped interrogation room with a metal table that’s seen better days and two plastic chairs meant to make me uncomfortable.
I drum my fingers on the table, my leg bouncing under it, nervous energy crackling through me like live wire. Every time I close my eyes, I see Callie’s face on that porch when Antonio dropped the bomb about Theo and Penelope.
Tick.
Murdered. They were killed and the officers must think we had something to do with it. Why else would they bring us here? I think back to that exchange we had, the threats I lobbed at Theo. I should know better than to say that shit in front of witnesses.
Everyone knows I’m a fighter. Is it that big of a jump to label me murderer? Is that their angle? Pinning it on the violent Williams brother?
Tick.
My hands clench into fists. Part of me wishes I had been the one to deal with Theo’s pretentious ass. The way he looked at Callie like she was something he wanted to break over and over again made me want to put my fist through his fucking face.
But murder?
Tick.
That’s not my style. When I hurt people, they know exactly who did it and why.
“Fuck,” I growl, raking my fingers through my hair. We have an alibi. After we left the diner, we went back to the house. Fell asleep tangled together in Knox’s king-size bed.
None of us left the house after that. We were all accounted for.
But what good is an alibi if no one else can vouch for us?
My stomach churns. Tick. What if they try to pin this on us anyway?
Tick. Small town cops love a convenient suspect, and we’ve got motive written all over us.
Tick. The confrontation at the diner, our history with Penelope, the lawsuit Theo was threatening.
TICK. Him and that stupid tax lien. TICK. It all looks bad from the outside.
TICK.
I get up and bang on the door. “Can you stop this fucking clock!” I try the handle, but it’s locked.
Of course it is. I’m about to bang on it again but the door finally opens and Officer Trina walks in.
I take four big steps back and hold my hands up, showing that I’m not trying to run or attack. I can’t afford any mistakes.
“What were you yelling about?” She’s carrying a manila folder and a cup of coffee that smells like it’s been sitting on a burner for hours.
“The clock,” I grumble. “It’s annoying.”
She glances at it impassively, arches an eyebrow, and gestures to my seat.
I stiffly walk to the table, gaze snagging on the blinking red light on the camera in the corner of the room.
“We’ll be recording this interview. Standard procedure.”
Plopping into the seat, I cross my arms and hold her stare. “I told you, we didn’t do this.”
She settles into the chair across from me and opens her folder. “I know this is a difficult situation.”
“Is it?”
“Two people are dead. You and your brothers had public altercations with both victims less than twenty-four hours ago.” She pulls out a pen and clicks it. “That makes it difficult, yes.”
My chest feels like it’s going to rip open. “We didn’t kill anyone.”
“I’m not saying you did.” Her tone stays even, controlled. “But I need to ask some questions, okay? Where were you between midnight and six AM last night?”
“At home. With my brothers and Callie.”
“All night?”
“All night.” I meet her stare without flinching. “We had dinner, came home, and went to bed. None of us left.”
She scribbles something in her notepad. “How well did you know Theo Martin?”
“I didn’t know him at all until he showed up here causing problems.”
“And what kind of problems are those?”
“Personal ones. None of your business.”
“Actually, it is my business.” She leans forward slightly. “Two people connected to Miss Harrison are dead, and you three have been very protective of her lately. So I’ll ask again: what kind of problems was Theo causing for Callie?”
The way she keeps circling back to Callie makes my blood pressure spike. “Leave her out of this.”
“I can’t do that, Jax. She’s connected to both victims.”
I scoff and shake my head. “She didn’t kill anybody either.”
“I’m not suggesting she did.” Trina’s pen hovers over her notepad. “But her relationship with these people is relevant. Theo was her ex-boyfriend, correct?”
“Unfortunately.”
“And you didn’t like that?”
Heat floods my veins. What’s she getting at? “I didn’t like how he treated her, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“How did he treat her?”
“Like shit.” The words come out rough. “He stole her artwork, took credit for it. Stole her money. Made her feel like she was worthless.”
“That must have made you angry.”
“Damn right it made me angry.” I uncross my arms and lean forward, matching her posture. “But not angry enough to kill the bastard. I prefer my revenge more personal. More educational.”
Her eyebrows lift slightly. “Educational?”
Fuck. I shouldn’t have said that. But I’m too wired to filter my words. “He needed to learn some respect. That’s all.”
“And Penelope? Did she need to learn some respect too?”
My hands ball into fists under the table. “Penelope was a parasite.”
She makes another note. “And she was the one who leaked that video, wasn’t she?”
Jaw ticking, I narrow my eyes. That video won’t fucking die. “Yeah.”
“I bet you were angry that she did that.”
“I wasn’t happy.”
“Angry enough to kill her?”
“Jesus Christ, no. Like I said, I didn’t fucking kill either of them. Am I sad? Not really.” I pause, scowling. “Do you even have any evidence against us?”
Trina sets her pen down and looks at me for a long moment. “I think we’re done here for now.”
“Good.” I push back from the table. “Can I leave?”
“Not yet.”
The words hit me like a slap. “What do you mean, not yet?”
“I mean I need to verify some details with your brothers first.” She stands and closes her folder. “You’re not under arrest, but I need you to stay put for a little while longer.”
My pulse throbs in the vein on my forehead. “I want a lawyer.”
“That’s your right.” She moves toward the door. “I’ll get you a phone.”
The door closes behind her with a soft click, leaving me alone with that goddamn ticking clock again. I drop my head into my hands and try to think. Try to figure out what the hell is happening and how to prove we’re innocent.