Chapter 13
Haven
It’s just gone nine, and I’m signing my name at the front desk of the Sheriff’s Office, my hand shaking so badly my signature looks like a toddler signing off their Crayola masterpiece.
Too little sleep. Too much coffee.
Oh, and the fact that I slept alone because my boyfriend is in prison.
I think I’m going to throw up. From the smell that the industrial cleaner is so desperately trying to cover up, I wouldn’t be the first this weekend.
“Wait here.” The baby-faced officer who picked me up this morning—Kid Cop, I’m calling him because I still didn’t catch his name after he repeated it twice—gestures.
‘Here’ is a plastic chair bolted to the floor like they’re afraid someone might steal it. Who the fuck steals a chair from a police station?
I sit and clutch my tote bag to my chest like it’s a life preserver.
…if I throw you overboard, Heavenly, you’ll drown before anyone even notices you’re gone…
Turns out Kai was more in danger of being tossed over the side of the ship than I was. We should never have jumped ship on Captain Rooke.
No.
I should never have tried finding comfort in the arms of a fucking madman.
I can still smell Bastian. It’s like his scent has absorbed into my skin, which is impossible, because I’ve showered three times already. Telling myself that it’s all in my mind doesn’t make the smell go away.
Or the guilt.
There I go again. Thinking about Bastian.
Sounds echo down the hallway. Footsteps. Voices. The jangle of handcuffs.
I glance up and it’s like someone just poured a bucket of ice water over my head.
Kai and another inmate, hands cuffed in front of them, are being led down the hall by a pair of cops.
Holy fuck, he looks miserable.
His hair is sticking up like he’d mussed it all night. Dark shadows under his eyes.
My stomach clenches, turning my saliva bitter.
He’s almost out of sight when he glances back over his shoulder and sees me. Relief crashes over his features—eyes widening, eyebrows twitching up, lips parting.
But it only lasts a second before his eyebrows knit together, top lip peeling back in a snarl.
I can spot his disgust a mile away.
My knees buckle when I shoot to my feet. I land back on my ass in the seat.
The officer tugs on Kai’s arm to get him moving again, but he jerks out of the man’s grip hard enough to make his cuffs clank.
“Bored of him already?” Kai yells down the hall at me.
The officer grabs his arm again. “Keep moving, Jordan.”
My chest constricts like someone punched me in the sternum, leaving me breathless as Kai—stiff shoulders, chin tilted up—disappears around the corner.
“He’s ready for you, Miss,” a disembodied voice says. It’s only when a hand lands on my shoulder that I turn to see Kid Cop at my side.
My legs feel like rubber when I stand and follow the cop in the other direction.
Kai thinks I chose Bastian over him.
Didn’t I? I walked into those woods and let Bastian put his hands on me, his mouth on me, his cock in—
God, enough with the guilt!
I did what I had to do. And now I’m going to fix this.
Kid Cop opens a door to a small office with a dented metal table and a mirror that’s obviously two-way glass.
“Have a seat. Deputy Thatcher is on his way.”
I groan, because of fucking course it’s Thatcher.
I glance at the mirror, tucking my hair behind my ear. I don’t look much better than Kai, honestly. I grabbed the first outfit I could match up out of my duffel bag, and both the jeans and the sweater are horrendously wrinkled. My hair is a mess, my skin pale, my eyes bloodshot.
Are they watching me right now? Analyzing what I’m doing? Whether I’m fidgeting because I’m nervous or guilty?
I try to get my foot to stop bouncing. My eyes keep jumping from the mirror, to the silent AC unit, to the tape recorder with its popped-open lid. I have to force myself not to close it because I get the feeling touching isn’t allowed.
There’s no clock in this room, so I don’t know how much time passes, but Thatcher sure as hell wasn’t on his way, unless he was coming from the other side of town.
I prop my elbows on the table and put my head in my hands, closing my eyes from the bright fluorescents. Somehow, despite all the coffee, I almost doze off.
When the door opens a while later, I jerk back to reality with my heart in my throat.
Deputy Thatcher walks in with two Styrofoam cups and a file tucked under his arm.
“Miss Lee.” He sits. “Thanks for coming in.”
Like I had a fucking choice.
I nearly had a heart attack when someone knocked on the Airbnb’s front door this morning. I surprised myself by going to answer it instead of hiding in the bathroom, pretending I wasn’t home. But when I saw the cop outside, the regret was instant.
“Is Kai okay?” I blurt out. “He looked—”
—angry, betrayed, hurt—
“Is he okay?” I repeat weakly.
Thatcher’s eyebrows rise. “Mr. Jordan is fine.”
My hands curl into fists so tight my nails bite into my palms. “He didn’t look fine.”
“Getting arrested does that to a person.” Thatcher slides a cup of coffee closer to me.
I unclench my jaw and force my face to relax. Getting an attitude with the police won’t get me anywhere, and definitely won’t help Kai.
I’m here to prove Kai’s innocence.
Fuck Bastian telling me to lawyer up and not say a word.
“Can I see him?”
“Not while he’s in custody.” Thatcher takes his notebook and pencil out of his pocket, and a tape for the recorder. God knows what’s in the file he brought with him, because it doesn’t look like he’s going to open it.
Maybe it’s just a prop. Maybe they don’t have any actual evidence to hold Kai. But they want me to think they do—
“This interview is being recorded,” he says, as he slides the tape into its slot, closes the lid, and presses the record button. “Recording on.”
He rattles off the date and time. His full name, then mine. I go from feeling cold to sweating in seconds.
“Miss Lee, you understand you’re here voluntarily to give a statement about yesterday’s incident involving Melissa Parker?”
Right. Because this is an interrogation. I’m not just Kai’s girlfriend. I’m a witness. Maybe even a suspect.
I take a quick sip of the coffee to get the taste of bile out of my mouth.
“Yes,” I manage.
“Let’s start with Friday night. Walk me through your evening.”
Just like that, I’m on a cliff’s edge. One wrong word and I send Kai tumbling off. And I might just fall with him.
“We were studying.”
“We?”
“Me and Kai.” I hesitate. “Kai and I.” Nope, that sounds weird.
“Continue.”
“We—me and Kai—had some pizza and stuff.” Because we’re hard-working students and not criminals, I add mentally. “Then he went to hang out with one of his friends.”
“What time was that?” Thatcher’s pencil is poised, his brown eyes locked to my face. This close, it’s hard not to notice how attractive he is…because apparently I really am a slut at heart.
“Uh…I’m not sure. Nine-ish, I think.”
“You think?”
“Uh…I can check?”
“How would you check, Miss Lee?”
I take another sip of the coffee. “I messaged someone after he left.”
“Who?”
None of your motherfucking business.
“A friend.”
Thatcher doesn’t press, and I’m both shocked and relieved. “Go ahead.”
I dig through my tote until I find Bastian’s phone, pulling it out and quickly unlocking it to check when I DMd him.
“Nice phone,” Thatcher says.
“Thanks,” I mumble, glancing up at him through my lashes. As soon as our eyes connect, he drops his gaze and scratches down something in his notebook.
Sweat prickles at the nape of my neck as I scroll to Friday night’s DMs.
@lee.haven
You were right.
About everything.
“Nine twenty,” I murmur. “So Kai left before that.”
“How long before that?”
I shrug. How long does it usually take to wreck a place? Ten minutes? Fifteen?
“A quarter hour, maybe.”
“Why didn’t you go with him?” His eyes are on me again, and I wish they weren’t. I quickly shove the phone back into my tote.
Being in this guy’s periphery makes me feel like a mass murderer, even though I’m not the one in a holding cell right now.
“I didn’t want to.”
“Because of the fight you two had?”
“He told you about that?” I push the words through a tight throat.
Thatcher says nothing. Because he doesn’t fucking have to, because Kai is a fucking rat. And here I am, trying to defend the fucking snitch.
“Yeah, we had a fight,” I say, crossing my arms tight over my chest. “He was being a pussy about speaking to his mom, and I told him to grow up.”
“He doesn’t like speaking to his mom?”
I snort, then force my face into a neutral expression and shrug. “You’d have to ask him.”
“And then he got violent?”
Violent? I frown hard, shaking my head. “No. What—”
He’s fucking baiting me. I take a deep breath, releasing it slowly through my nose. Again.
And Thatcher doesn’t blink once.
“He was upset, that’s all. Told me to stay out of his business. And then he left to go drinking with his buddy.”
“Does he drink a lot when he’s upset?”
I shrug again. “Dunno.”
“You’re his girlfriend. Why wouldn’t you know?”
“We haven’t been together long. And we’ve been studying for midterms and stuff.”
“No parties?”
“Nope.”
Thatcher tilts his head.
I swear, if he’s going to mention the Rain Dance—
“So the Rain Dance was your last party together?”
My jaw clenches.
Motherfucker.
I say nothing, and Thatcher scribbles a note. “Where did he meet his buddy?”
“Dunno.”
“Does your boyfriend often leave without telling you where he’s going?”
I snort-laugh as I glance away and mutter, “God,” under my breath.
“Miss Lee?”
I turn back to Thatcher, my voice hard, shaking. “No, Kai doesn’t randomly leave. He’s not a psycho with mommy issues, he’s not violent, and he didn’t hurt Melissa.”
“So this is the first time he’s left without telling you where he went?”
My lips peel apart before I can control myself. Do they spend a year at the academy studying how to twist someone’s words around, or what the fuck?
“I didn’t mean that. We fought about his mom. Then he said he was going to have drinks with a friend.” I frown. “Kruger, or something. He asked me if I wanted to come.”
I tighten my arms over my chest, but that’s supposed to make me look defensive or guilty, so I shove my hands between my knees again.
“Did you try to contact him at all while he was gone?”
“No.”
“He didn’t try to—“
“We were mad at each other, so no,” I cut in.
Plus, I was too busy messaging our psychology professor, telling him he was right about everything.
“Did Kai come back that night?”
“I don’t think so.”
“You’re not sure?”
“He wasn’t there when I went to bed.”
My palms are sweating against each other. I shift a little, wiping them discreetly on my jeans where Thatcher can’t see.
“So it’s possible Mr. Jordan met with Melissa on Friday night?”
I open my mouth. Close it. “I…no. He wouldn’t have done that.”
“Why not?”
I shrug. “He was having drinks with his friend all night.”
“But how can you be sure he just met with his friends, and not Miss Parker too? He could have seen her afterward. He was gone for a very long time.”
“There’s no way Kai was with Melissa on Friday night.”
The instant Thatcher tilts his head, I feel the bear trap he set so fucking neatly slam closed. He watches me for a moment, like he’s waiting for me to continue, but I clench my jaw and resist the urge to explain.
“You sound pretty sure,” he says. “In fact, that’s the only thing you’ve been sure of this morning. Yet you weren’t with Kai. You say you don’t know when he came back to the Airbnb, if at all. So how are you so certain, Miss Lee?”
Thatcher leans forward, meshing his fingers on the table, his notebook nestled between his forearms.
“Miss Lee, if you are withholding information about—”
“My boyfriend wouldn’t cheat on me,” I snap. There’s a hot flush on my face, and I’m gripping my hands between my legs tight enough to hurt. “He’s even less capable of that than hurting someone.”
“So he’s more likely to assault someone than cheat on you?”
“That’s not what I said! I meant, he’s not the kind of person to hurt someone. He cares too much.”
“About everyone except his brother, you mean.”
I blink at Thatcher, my brain going blank.
Thatcher leans back in his chair again. “Kai beat his brother into a coma, Miss Lee.”
My mouth twitches into a sour grimace.
Don’t say it.
Don’t fucking say it.
Don’t—
“Ezra fucking deserved it,” I mutter.