30. Evan
EVAN
I promise to love you forever. And that’s the easy part.
To honor and cherish you.
To keep your wishes and dreams my own.
To comfort you and keep you safe, always.
Till death do us part.
M y wedding vows haunt me. The parts of them I can remember, at least. I can’t stop seeing the look of complete devotion on Kat’s face on our wedding day, as I read my vows from the scrap of paper where I’d written them.
My heart raced as I spoke each word, my gaze straying from the paper to look back at her. She was so beautiful, with a love that I knew I didn’t deserve.
I can still remember the feel of her soft skin as I cupped her cheek in my hand. I can still smell the sweet fragrance that drifted toward me as I leaned closer to her, all of our friends and family clapping and cheering as I took my first kiss from my wife.
I can still taste her lips on mine.
When I said those words, I meant them. I thought they’d be so easy to keep, to be honest, and it never occurred to me that I’d forget.
A large metal door opens at the end of the hall and I look up, my view obstructed by steel bars of the jail cell.
It’s been a long damn time since I’ve been locked up. Years. Almost a dozen years, to be exact. I knew I’d be back soon, though.
It was only a matter of time before they brought me in for questioning.
Samantha tried to warn me but it was too late.
Soon after I left the townhouse the cops picked me up and brought me in.
I sit hunched over, resting my forearms on my thighs as I wait for the attending officer to come get me.
With the footsteps echoing down the small corridor, my gaze raises in anticipation, only to drop again to the cement floor.
He walks right past me without a glance in my direction and I drop my head, focusing on the cracks in the concrete and recalling every detail of the night that put me here.
My hands sweat as I twist my wedding band around my finger. I can’t think about Kat right now or what she’d say. I haven’t told her a damn thing about this and we’re in the same place we were when I last left.
The worst part about all of this is that I don’t have a way out yet.
I’m falling into a dark hole, not knowing how I can escape, or if it will ever end.
Never in my life has a situation seemed so dire and I’m more than aware that I miss her presence the most. It would make all this hell seem insignificant if only I knew she still loved me.
Someone coughs and I slowly turn my head to the left where it came from a few cells down, but I can’t see a damn thing but bars and concrete.
I think there’s only one other person in holding with me.
And he’s on the same side so the rest of the cells are empty.
I guess Tuesdays are slow days for the station.
My foot tap, tap, taps on the ground as I wait. The cops haven’t given me any information to go on yet. Other than the word murder . My best guess is that they think I gave Tony the coke and knew it was laced with something deadly.
Even if I didn’t know it was tainted, I’d still be held accountable. At least here in the state of New York, I am. If it was deliberately tampered with, though … then someone wanted him dead. Although the only two people who knew it was even there were me and James.
My shoulders rise with a heavy breath as the anger gets the best of me. Rage seeps into my blood just thinking his name. The image of him flickers in front of me the second I close my eyes. He smiled as he patted my back, walking out the room after making sure it’d be ready for our client, Tony.
He’s the one who put it there. The only question I have on my mind is whether he’s the one who laced it.
I can’t imagine he did. He wouldn’t be that stupid, but I’m not taking the fall for murder.
Not to save his skeevy ass. I’m not a rat, but if James plays his cards against me—the proof that I was with Tony before he died, then I’m taking that fucker down.
“Thompson,” the cop’s voice bellows and echoes off the walls of the small cell.
“That’s me,” I answer, looking the detective square in his light blue eyes. I don’t recognize him as he puts the key in the lock and opens the door wide for me to get out and walk to the interrogation room. Adrenaline pumps hard in my blood. It seems more intense now than it did years ago.
Maybe it’s because I don’t know how I’ll get out of this. I have an alibi, but if James showed them the pictures proving I was with Tony that night, then I’m fucked.
I have to wonder if he would, though. If that’s the case, he was deliberately withholding evidence and they’d have to question his intentions and his involvement, as well as the fact that he lied during the first questioning.
He could do it anonymously, though, and knowing his character, he’d sure as hell take that route.
My boots smack against the floor and I walk at an easy pace, making sure I don’t do anything to piss off the cop. He’s a short guy. Probably in his thirties, I guess. Lots of wrinkles around his eyes, though. Maybe from the stress of the job, maybe from the sun.
“After you,” he says with a grim look pulling his lips into a thin line as he opens the door. I give him a nod and walk in; he doesn’t follow.
I only hesitate to sit down for a moment. There are two men in the room already. A tall cop with broad shoulders and a thin mustache that I want to shave off and Jay McCann, the lawyer from James’s PR firm.
“You’re fired,” I tell Jay the second I sit down. I don’t even look at the slick lawyer. He’s represented me and plenty of other clients before, but I know he’d break attorney-client privilege and tell James everything. I don’t trust him.
“Are you sure?” the cop questions, not hiding his surprise in the least and glancing between the two of us as McCann stumbles over a response. Jay is obviously shocked and I don’t blame him.
“Evan,” Jay starts, his voice strong although he instinctively reaches to loosen the knot of the dark navy tie that matches his suit, “I highly suggest we talk about this before you?—”
“Yes, I’m sure. Sorry, Jay.” I turn to face him and wait for a response, but he stands up and straightens his jacket. His clean-shaven jaw clenches as he grabs his briefcase and I can see he wants to say something, but he holds it in.
Probably a good call on his part.
I watch him walk around the table and exit without another word, leaving me alone with the cop.
“I’m Detective Bradshaw, Mr. Thompson.”
“I would say it’s nice to meet you, but …” I reply with a smirk and tilt my hands out with my palms up. Detective Bradshaw doesn’t laugh or respond to my little joke and that’s fine. They never do in here where it’s recorded. I know how this works.
“Have you been informed of your rights?”
“I have,” I answer him.
“And do you know what you’re being charged with?”
“Charged?” I say and although I keep my voice even, my back stiffens slightly as my muscles tense. “I wasn’t informed I was being charged with anything.” That statement comes out far too casually for the adrenaline racing through me.
“Well, I imagine there’s no refuting the charge on your part. You supplied Tony Lewis with the cocaine he overdosed on.”
“You want me to admit to handing over the cocaine to him, so you have someone behind bars to take the fall for a hotshot’s death?
” I ask him sarcastically, seamlessly hiding how my nerves want to crack and how my blood pounds in my ears.
I let out an uneasy huff of a laugh and shake my head.
Leaning back in my seat, I look him in the eyes with a smile as I say, “That’s not happening, Detective. ”
“Well, someone is going to go down for murder, yes.” He sucks his teeth as he stands up and crosses his arms over his chest. “You’d only be sentenced for your part and we’re willing to cut you a deal.
Whoever laced it with fentanyl intended for it to kill.
There’s no doubt in the DA’s mind that it’s murder, Mr. Thompson. I’d take the deal if I were you.”
He waits for a reaction, but I use every ounce of energy in me to not give him anything. I won’t say a word. Inside, I’m denying it. No fucking way. There’s no way James would give a client something that would kill him. They’re wrong. If it wasn’t James … then who?
“We know it’s someone within the firm. It’s not the first time one of New York Stride Public Relation’s clients have turned up dead.” He leans back and adds, “As I’m sure you’re aware.”
As he talks, he half pushes, half tosses the manila folder that was sitting on his end of the table my way. It lands with a heavy thud in front of me and I open it, feigning disinterest.
“Nothing points to that person being you, but this was intentional. Someone wanted whoever was going to be taking this coke to die. It was laced with enough fentanyl to kill instantly.”
I don’t say anything as he pauses, opening the manila folder when I don’t and pulling out a page with charts and shit I don’t know anything about. He points his finger to a graph, then taps it far too hard, turning his knuckles white. “Whoever did it wanted even the smallest dose to kill.”
Silence. All I do is stare at the man and then force my gaze back down, to the photos of Tony, dead on the floor of that hotel room.
“If you have any information on how we’d go about finding the killer, that’d be useful, and we’d certainly be grateful for that.”
I have to calmly exhale a few times, keeping as still as possible and making sure my expression doesn’t change in the least before I can respond. “I really liked Tony and it’s a shame what happened to him. It’s extremely upsetting to think someone murdered him.”
“It is, especially since he didn’t have any enemies we can find,” the cop answers, his voice tighter now and then he leans forward.
“You know, if we can’t find who did it, you’ll be taking the full brunt of things.”
I let a sarcastic laugh rock my shoulders and then look toward the door to my left. The one that leads to my freedom. “I’m sorry, Detective, everyone I know loved Tony and I didn’t give him any drugs.” I lean forward, mimicking his posture as I add, “It’s illegal.”
“If that’s the way you want to play it.” His jaw is tense as he reaches for the folder and I lean back in my seat again and only watch as he collects the papers.
“Am I free to go now? I’d like to leave.”
He stands up abruptly, pushing the chair back a few inches, making the steel chair legs scrape noisily across the floor. “I don’t think so. Maybe a night in the cells will help you remember something.”
Fucking prick. Not that I’m surprised. It’s a game of chess and his side has more pieces and a head start. I stay still and wait, keeping my guard up.
“Be back in a bit, Thompson.”
I clench my jaw and crack my knuckles as I watch him leave.
It’s only when the door shuts and I’m left alone in the room that I realize the extent of what Detective Bradshaw said.
Someone wanted to kill Tony, knowing I’d give the coke to him.
Maybe even thinking I’d take it too. I’m known for partying.
It’s why clients choose me to represent them in the firm.
My head spins as I try to recall that night.
I don’t broadcast that I’m not a cokehead and a glass of whiskey is enough for me.
Still, everyone in the scene knows I’m down for whatever they’re in the mood for.
There’s no way anyone else could have gotten in there.
James had the master key, and he gave me the only other copy.
I was there to party with the clients and make sure they had a good time, but stayed out of trouble. It was easy enough in the rec room.
For the last ten minutes, I’ve been thinking that someone was trying to kill Tony. It’s what the detective was suggesting.
I’d bet anything that James thought I’d take a hit at least.
Maybe it’s paranoia, but as I sit alone in the room, all I can think is that the coke was never intended for Tony.
Someone wanted me dead.