55 Jamie
They definitely treat you differently when you’re arrested for murder. That’s for damn sure.
I haven’t even been able to take a piss by myself. There’s been an officer planted next to me since the second they put the cuffs on.
I’m not upset, though.
If anything, I feel something uncomfortably close to happiness.
Gary is dead. I heard them confirm it. He’s fucking dead.
Would it be better if I wasn’t the one locked up for it? Sure. But the fact that Frankie gets to live the rest of her life knowing that the bastard can never touch her again makes this tolerable. More than tolerable.
It makes it worth it.
“Want to make this easier on all of us?” the detective asks.
I look up at her but say nothing.
“I mean,” she continues, tapping a folder on the table, “we’re running the gun for prints right now. You could save us a lot of time and just confess.”
I smile at her.
It throws her off, I can tell.
“From what I’m hearing,” she says, recalibrating, “it’s pretty well known you had a problem with Mr. Stone. You were arrested just the other day for an altercation in his front yard. Did he come at you today? Was it self-defense?”
I say nothing. I’m not a smart man, but I know enough to never talk to cops.
She switches tactics. “My colleagues talked to the neighbors,” she says. “They tell us Mr. Stone was the stepfather of a girl you have…some kind of relationship with?”
I don’t blink.
She leans forward, lowering her voice like we’re sharing something. “Was he hurting your girl? Is that why you fought the other day? And then he came back tonight so you ended him?”
She can talk all she wants. I’m not going to give her anything.
I’m fine sitting here. Fine staying quiet. Gary is dead. Ryan isn’t going to pay for it. Frankie will be safe. Christian will take care of her.
A sharp pang cuts through me at the thought of Christian.
He’s going to be furious. I mean, he’ll be glad Ryan isn’t in this seat- no way he could take it. But the idea of Christian angry- really angry- makes my jaw tighten.
The detective sees it and mistakes it for me breaking.
“I get it,” she says softly. “I really do.” She sighs, like she’s tired of pretending otherwise. “Mr. Stone looks like he was a real piece of work. Track marks all over him. We don’t have tox back yet, but I’d bet good money it’s full of all kinds of shit.”
She shrugs. “He was a junkie. A junkie bothering your girl.” She watches my face carefully. “I get why you did it,” she repeats.
The door opens behind her and a man I don't know walks in. “We’re done here,” he says, calm but sharp.
The detective turns.
“I’m his attorney,” the man says, already stepping into the room. “David Keller.” He glances at me, then back at her. “And he’s not answering any questions.”
He steps closer to me, putting a hand on my shoulder. “We’d like the room, please.”
The detective stands. “Sure. I’ll go check on things. Just so you know, the prosecutor’s pushing- wants to charge him in custody.”
Keller just nods.
She leaves, and when the door shuts behind her, I finally look at him. He shifts, moving into her chair across from me.
“Did Christian hire you?” I ask.
He nods. “Yeah. Mr. Smith brought me in. But I’m your attorney. Who pays me doesn’t matter. Do you understand what she meant by charging in custody?”
I shake my head.
“It means they’re rushing to get enough evidence in front of a judge before the twenty-four-hour window runs out.” He pauses. “They’re trying to charge you with murder. You won’t get a bond anyone can pay.”
I nod once. “Okay.”
“You’ll stay locked up through trial.”
I nod again, but that’s apparently not the reaction he’s looking for, because he exhales sharply and leans forward.
“Don’t do that,” he says. “Don’t go quiet on me. Talk to me. Tell me what happened. I spoke with Mr. Lett and- ”
At Ryan’s name, I straighten immediately.
“Leave Ryan out of this,” I say. “He’s clean. You hear me?”
Keller lifts his hands slightly. “Got it. But listen- there are a few things you need to understand.” He taps the table. “The second that detective walked out, the cameras stopped. This is confidential. No one’s listening.”
I don’t buy that for a second. There’s always someone listening.
“I’m the one person in this building you can trust,” he continues. He leans in again, closer now. “So tell me what the fuck happened.”
I let out a short laugh. I like him, sure, but not enough to risk Ryan.
“There’s no need for a trial,” I say. “I’ll plead to whatever. Just make sure Ryan stays out of it.”
Keller studies me for a second, eyes narrowing slightly.
“Ryan didn’t do it,” he says.
I frown. “Right, I know that. That’s why I’m here, remember?”
“No, Jamie. Listen to me. Ryan actually didn’t do it,” he repeats. “You’re trying to take the fall for someone else.”
I shake my head because that doesn’t track. “But... I saw him. I saw Ryan, and the gun- ”
Keller cuts in. “He says he saw Gary fighting with another guy in the alley. Went out to confront him, but the other guy shot Gary and ran. Ryan was left there with the gun and a dying man.”
He holds my gaze.
“He didn’t do it, Jamie. We don’t know who did. But he didn’t. And neither did you.”
I sit back, trying to recalibrate.
“Doesn’t matter,” I say after a second. “He was there. Unless we prove who did it, they’ll charge him.”
“Maybe,” Keller says, leaning back, tapping his pen against his notebook. “So why don’t you walk me through it? From your point of view.”
I don’t know how long we sit there. He’s quiet, only interrupts to clarify things every now and then, and I tell him everything.
Then the conversation turns into questions- about Ryan, about why I’d take the fall for him. About Gary and his history with Frankie. About my relationship with her. My relationship with Christian. How Ryan fits into the whole picture.
It’s easier to explain than I expect. When I say it out loud, it almost sounds simple- we are three men who are in love with the same women, two of whom are also in love with each other.
Keller doesn’t even blink.
And just as I finish, the door opens and the detective walks back in.
She looks… rested. Freshly showered.
“Good morning,” she says, shutting the door behind her. Jesus, it's been an entire day.
“No questions,” David says. She nods, lips pressed tight.
“Just wanted to give an update,” she says. “Preliminary prints on the gun are back.” She fixes me with a look. “You and your dad have been running a criminal enterprise for years, so I wasn’t surprised to see his prints all over the gun you used to kill Mr. Stone.”
“My dad?”
“Jamie, stop,” David snaps, already on his feet. “Have the prosecutor call me before they file, please. And make sure my client gets fucking fed and is allowed to rest.”
He turns back to me. “I need to go work on this, but I’ll be back later, okay?”
I nod, still trying to catch up.
I feel like I’ve been punched in the gut.
My fucking father?
They move me to a holding cell. I sit on the edge of the cot, staring at the concrete wall, the words replaying in my head like they’ll make more sense the tenth time.
They don’t.
Heat builds slow and steady in my chest, pressure behind my eyes, every nerve in my body itching for something- anything- to hit. To break. To make this make sense.
But there’s nothing here.
Just a toilet. A metal cot. That buzzing fluorescent light overhead.
And then, somehow, I start laughing.
Not quiet, either. It comes out sudden and loud, bouncing off the walls like I’ve finally snapped.
Because of course.
Of course it’s him.
I drag a hand down my face, still laughing, even as something harder settles underneath it.
Christian is going to lose his mind.
I can already see it- him pacing, phone in hand, voice tight, eyes locked in on the problem until it gives. The look he’s going to give me when he finds out why I’m sitting in here.
He’s going to be so pissed.
I lean back against the wall, letting the laughter burn off into something steadier, sharper.
I’ve survived worse.
I’ll survive this.
My dad, though…
I wouldn’t want to be him when Christian finds out.