David Grayson has more gray hair since I last saw him. The stress of saving his dental practice runs through the lines carved into his face. He’s still too tan for someone who allegedly works all the time, but I’m not supposed to judge his golfing habits. Standing in golf attire, I wonder if he finished the round or cut out early when he heard his daughter’s life was on the line. We’re not coming together as friends, and I need to remember what Firefly always told me. “Hold your temper.” I hear her sweet voice reminding me.
It’s been about two years since I saw her parents. The incident that led to the final rift in our relationship was minor. He was upset. I was cocky. I only let him get in one punch. I didn’t care who the fuck he thought he was. None of his demands persuaded me to leave Sara Jane then, and if he still thinks I will walk away willingly now, he’s a fool.
I hold my breath, trying to calm the agitation I feel from seeing him, but I’m intercepted. The two cops step up to me and put their hands out, blocking my path. The taller one, one not much older than I am and barely eye level, asks, “Alexander Kingwood?”
Just over his shoulder, I see her father crossing his arms over his chest with a smug grin on his face. Eyeing the cops, I reply, “The Fourth.”
“We need to talk. Outside.”
3
Alexander
I’m led out the doors and look to my right. Cruise isn’t around, which is good, but I’m not sure if I’m going to be able to hide what I’ve done. We walk about fifteen feet and stop. I cross my arms over my chest and ask, “What’s this about?”
“We need your statement. I’m Officer Langley,” the taller officer says.
“I want to wait for word on my—”
“Usually when someone walks in with a gunshot victim, we tend to want to know how they got shot. I’m sure you can understand this,” the moodier short cop says.
“My mother was murdered, so I understand how the process works, but I’m curious if the police were this diligent with her case.”
Langley sighs. “I’m sorry about your mother. We saw the case was never solved. It was a high-profile case—”
“That the cops stopped caring about,” I say. “I need to go inside. I want to be there if they come out with any news.”
“We won’t take long,” Langley says. “We’ll take a quick statement and then you can come down to the station if we need more.” With a pencil and small pad in hand, he starts into his questioning. “How do you know the victim?”
“She’s my gir—” I don’t know why I do it other than I wish she was. “She’s my wife.”
Their eyes land heavy on me with that slip as they search for the lie they’ve already convinced themselves they’ll find. I refuse to give them anything more than I want them to know. Brown cuts to the chase. “How was Ms. Grayson—”
“Kingwood.”
If a glare could be classified as a felony, Brown just committed a crime against me. “Kingwood?” he questions as if he’s not onboard with the correction.
Fuck him. I can play this game all fucking night. “Yes. Kingwood.”
“How was Mrs. Kingwood shot?”
“I don’t know. I wasn’t there.” I look right into his beady eyes, but the ache of my soul fighting for life grips my heart like a vise, causing me to close my eyes. I rub the bridge of my nose and exhale quietly before I look up. They’re staring, but I don’t care. I can’t stop the emotion wavering through my voice when I add, “She’s the reason I breathe, the reason I wake up in the morning. She’s everything that matters in my life. I can’t lose her.”
Langley says, “I’m sorry about Mrs. Kingwood.”
Mrs. Kingwood. The name doesn’t harken back to my mother, but teases and taunts knowing it might not be my Firefly’s one day. Coughing, I swipe away the tears that fall in front of them. Fucking humiliating. “What else do you need?”
“Mrs. Kingwood’s car was found off Devil’s Curve near Century Street. That seems to be on the way to your home, but from her parents’ statement, she was no longer living in the area. When did you get married?”
“What the hell? I know where I found her, where her car was. Why aren’t you trying to find the guy who attempted to kill her? Why are you wasting time interrogating me instead of chasing leads?” God, I am so angry. “This is just like my mother’s case,” I mumble.
“Your family has a lot of enemies,” Brown adds. Asshole.
“My father had a lot of enemies. My wife does not.”
Staring at me, he adds, “You’re a lot like your father. Arrogant with a giant chip on your shoulder like the world owes you something just for existing.”
“It doesn’t?” I ask, cocking an eyebrow.
A nurse pops her head out the door. When she sees us, she says, “Mr. Kingwood. They’re coming out of surgery.”
Sara Jane. I rush to the sliding glass doors.
Before I have a chance to go inside, Brown adds, “Don’t leave town.”
Glancing back, I catch the expression in his eyes. He doesn’t believe me. My heart is beating so quickly. Spending the rest of my life in prison wasn’t part of the plan when I started searching for answers regarding my mother’s murder.
I stand at the nurses station and wait. My senses are heightened from the adrenaline coursing through my body, and my defenses are sky high. I should be nervous or anxious or threatened or worried. I’m none of those. I’ll take them on with every dollar to my name another day. I just need my Firefly to be okay.
The Graysons are huddled together, Sara Jane’s mom crying on her husband’s shoulders. His hate permeates the air and I turn my back, swallowing hard. I understand their pain, but it still feels insignificant to my own. I know the truth. I know she was shot because of me, or my father, because of the Kingwood name. I dip my head down and rub my forehead. Fuck. Fuck.
I push away thoughts of Chad and the visions of Sara Jane on the ground curled to her side, grayer by the second as blood drained from her small frame. Her words echo through my brain. “It’s been good. So good living this life with you.”
“Please let her be okay,” I whisper to the darkness invading my head. “We have so much more life to live. I will do anything if you let her live.” I’m not even sure who I’m begging, but I pray my prayers will be answered.
Langley and Brown saunter in like they’ve got a solved case on their hands. Brown grins, the smarmy fuck. Out of the corner of my eyes, I watch as they go to the Graysons. Turning my back, I listen carefully, trying to eavesdrop.
“His story checks out so far, Mr. Grayson,” Langley says. “We’ll get more information when he gives his statement.”
My story checks out. I didn’t even give much of a story. Lazy cops.
How is that even possible?
I shouldn’t have glanced over because her father stands stiff in disbelief, and I look away from his death stare. “That can’t be. I know he’s part of this. My daughter has always been too good for him.”
Langley replies, “That’s unfortunate, but since they’re married, even more so.”
“Married? They’re not married.”
I walk away, the knives of his spite stabbing me like daggers to the back.
“Kingwood?” her father calls.
Saved just in time by the nurse who says, “Right this way.”