“Over there,” I heard McKenzie yell just before Connor and Dusty rushed in through the bay door, stopping dead in their tracks. They looked at me, then at each another, both wearing a ‘what the fuck?’ expression.
“Go back to the house with Mary-Anne,” Connor yelled over his shoulder. I knew they were there, but I couldn’t speak as I pushed myself off of the corpse in front of me. His head injury was so severe, there was blood everywhere, and I slipped in it as I attempted to stand, only to fall and cover myself in it, which panicked me even more.
“You fell hard,” Connor notes. “It scared the shit out of me.”
“I hit my head on something,” I state it more than ask it as I touch the sore spot on the back of my crown.
“Tool bench,” he states.
“The next thing I remember is waking up on the gurney.”
“We have to see Wendy and Jeff. Obviously the girls haven’t come forward with what that old fuck did to them, or we would have been questioned about it by now.”
McKenzie was frantic after she hit Mr. Jenson over the head. I have no doubt she’s lied about everything, terrified she’ll go to prison for murder. No matter what happens, I’ll take the heat for all of this—after all, I did kill him. But the most important thing is that the girls get help, counseling to help them cope and understand the feelings something so horrendous might make them feel. My heart aches as I think of McKenzie; the years of carrying the pain around must have been unbearable.
Tears fill my eyes. “I can’t believe that I didn’t know; that I was so blind.”
“You’re so good, Demi,” he murmurs as he kisses my temple, “you only want to see the good in people.” He rubs gentle circles on my back before lying back, pulling me with him. I rest my head on his chest and let my fingers dance over the quote tattooed on his chest.
‘Return good for good; return evil with justice.’
“Is it bad I don’t regret killing him?” I ask my voice monotone.
“I’m the wrong person to ask that question,” he replies.
“Looks like we’re not so different after all,” I sigh.
A loud knock on the door startles us, and Connor climbs out of bed, quickly tugging on his boxers and a pair of jeans that were crumpled on the floor.
“Police. Open up,” a deep voice yells as they knock loudly once more.
Grabbing my white robe, he tosses it to me, and I quickly slip it on, my heart hammering in my chest a mile a minute. They’re going to arrest him. Shit. This is happening.
“Say nothing,” Connor tells me, his stare direct. Then he opens the door, but only halfway so the officers can’t see inside the apartment.
“Mr. Stevens, we’re looking for Demi Stevens,” the officer says.
“And why is that?” Connor asks, closing the door more.
“We have a warrant for her arrest for the murder of Ned Jenson. Is she here?”
“She’s been charged?” Connor asks as if it’s the most ridiculous thing he’s ever heard. “On what grounds?” Connor’s shoulders are pulled back, his chest is out, his stance tense. He’s getting upset. I need him to calm down before he gets himself in trouble.
“Is she here Mr. Stevens?”
“Yes, I’m here,” I call as I round the door, tugging my robe closed.”
“This is bullshit,” Connor yells. “They’ve already charged me.”
“Connor,” I plead as I place a trembling hand on his arm. “Please, calm down. Call Jim for me. I need you to see Wendy and Jeff as well.”
The officer pushes his way inside and begins reading me my rights, while his partner more or less, blocks Connor from me. My entire body is trembling as he cuffs me.
I’m being charged with murder.
And I’m guilty.
I’m going to prison.
“Let her put some goddamn clothes on!” Connor shouts. “She’s half naked.”