by Tijan
CHAPTER NINETEEN
“So, that’s it?” Carolina asked me a week later. It was my first venture out in public since the official announcement from the police that I was no longer a suspect. The media had changed. Half still condemned me as the killer, quoting that I was the smartest killer there was. I had killed her, and I was going to get away with it. The other side had raised pitchforks up in my defense. I needed to sue the police force. My good name was ruined. My life was destroyed. I’d never be able to shed this image.
Neither appealed to me.
I wanted the attention to end. That’s all I wanted, and that hadn’t happened, which meant we all remained in Denton’s house. Corrigan and Bryce had started to come around with Mena. She wasn’t the hated enemy, and Corrigan told me that his fraternity brothers found Mena in a heated debate, defending my honor on campus last week. They joined the fight, and the students calling for my head on a plate dispersed after that.
Was that it? I came back to Carolina’s question and shrugged. “I was a suspect, and now I’m not.”
“But—” She stopped running and gaped at me, her mouth hanging open. “Sheldon!”
Spying a bench nearby, I plopped down. I shook my head at her. “How did you talk me into running?” My damn body was aching everywhere, even my cheeks. How could cheeks get sore?
Carolina was jogging in place in front of me, pulling one arm across her chest to stretch. Black running tights, a pink top, her blond hair up into a ponytail—I started to sneer. Sometimes Carolina was too perfect.
But she’s a good friend to you so shut it, woman, I chided myself immediately.
“With the evidence they found on Guadalupe’s assistant’s phone, they’re the main suspects.” My stomach rumbled, and yes, even that ached a little bit. I started to look around. Maybe I could grab a smoothie or something. “Ritt’s supposed to be released on bond today. Corrigan’s slipping out to grab him. He wants to have a talk. Bryce, too.”
Oh, snap.
I just opened that Pandora’s Box, and I could feel Carolina draw upright. Corrigan and Bryce. I had uttered those names, and I readied myself, knowing an onslaught was coming.
“So,” she started.
I smirked. She sounded careless and deceptive, but an attack was imminent.
She asked, “Which one was in your bed last night?
Yep. There it was.
I let out a sigh and stood. “I’m good to start running again.”
Carolina barked out a laugh, falling in line next to me. “If you think running is going to make me not ask these questions, think again, Jeneve. I run marathons. A one-miler to me is like walking to you.”
I gave her the middle finger.
She laughed and only nudged me with her elbow. “Out with it. Just tell me what’s going on.”
“There’s nothing to tell.” And there wasn’t. I had told her earlier about my night with Corrigan, but she thought it was only messing around. She didn’t know that he’d given me an ultimatum. I had to get in touch with my repressed feelings about Bryce first, and then more activities could ensue after that.
It was fucked up. That was my opinion of the whole thing, but I only said to Carolina, “I have no clue what I’m going to do.”
“No more evening activities with either of them?”
I shook my head. “Nothing.”
“Really? Have either of them said a word to you about that night?”
“Nope.” That was true, too. Bryce saw Corrigan enter my room. He heard me choose, but the next morning I took it back, and there’d been no Corrigan in my room. I had no idea what he was thinking. The only thing I knew was that it was checkmate. I had to drop my wall blocking Bryce, and then everyone could go from there.
“That’s so weird.”
I kept my mouth shut. If I wasn’t ready to deal with my emotions, there was no way I was going to start being a chick and sharing them with another girl. I let out a frustrated groan and put forth a burst of speed. Maybe I could run this shit out of me? That might help.
Carolina laughed, matching my pace again. “You want to sprint the last bit?” She pointed farther down the sidewalk as it weaved out of the park. “There’s a coffee shop up above.”
I almost fell down from the relief. Thank god for coffee. When we turned the corner, heading out of the park, the coffee shop was two stores down.
We never got there.
“Oh.”
Carolina saw them first, then touched my arm, drawing me to a halt.
Then I saw them. Bryce and Corrigan. Both were standing next to a car, wearing baseball caps pulled low and their shoulders hunched forward. They were trying to be inconspicuous.
They were idiots.
I rolled my eyes and strolled over to them. “Really? Are you trying to fulfill the definition of shady?”
“Shut up,” Corrigan grumbled, straightening from the car. He nodded at Carolina. “Nice to see you, Royal Princess, but,” he opened the back door for me and gave her a polite smile, “this is where your road ends with Sheldon today.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Why am I not getting a good feeling about this?”
“Not to be mean.” Bryce fielded this one from across the car. His arms stretched over the hood. “But the less you know, maybe the better for you.”
I took a quick reevaluation of them now. They were here, waiting for me. How they knew we’d end up at the coffee shop, I didn’t want to dissect, but both were grim and serious. Then it clicked—Michael Reveritt got out of jail.
“Oh.”
They both nodded, knowing what dots had connected in my head. “Yep,” Corrigan murmured. He nodded again to Carolina. “See ya, Smalls.”
“For real? You guys are just taking Sheldon and leaving me here? I ran here.”
Bryce opened his mouth, but I shot a hand up. Flashing him a grin, I winked. “I got this one.” I turned around to my friend. Yes, my friend. She was my female friend, but she wasn’t a part of our family. The only person who’d been allowed in was Denton, but since he wasn’t in the car waiting, I knew serious damage was going to go down.
Carolina was a friend, but she wasn’t my family.
A delicious shiver worked its way up my back and through me as I thought that last statement. Family. I could call Bryce and Corrigan family again. It felt damn good.
But Carolina. She had to be let down in the gentlest of ways so I said, “Uh, Miss-Professional-Marathoner-that-was-just-bragging-how-one-mile-is-a-walk-in-the-park-moments-before,” I gave her the sweetest of smiles, “a walk back to your house won’t put you out.”
She stiffened. “Sheldon,” she hissed. “Seriously?”
“Okay, seriously.” All jokes aside. “Like Bryce said, the less you know the better.” I emphasized, “For your sake.”
“Oh.” She moved back a step, frowning.
Corrigan pounded on the roof of the car, turning for his door. “All right then. We’re off. See you at the mixer this weekend.” Then he placed his hand on the top of my head and shoved me into the car before he hopped in himself. Bryce got behind the wheel, and all doors shut in an instant.
That was the end of the exchange.
I knew what was going to happen next, and I didn’t ask questions. I didn’t need to know where they had Ritt, but the farther we drove to the outskirts of the city, the more my adrenaline was kicking up.
I wish I could’ve gone on that run now. I had a feeling the one mile would’ve been a cakewalk for me, too. Then Bryce turned into a storage facility and wound the car around a bunch of tall warehouses. He pulled up to one on the end. When we got out, I asked, “Whose is this?”
“Denton’s.”
“He knows what’s going on?”
“He.” Bryce shared a look with Corrigan as we headed for the door. Pocketing the keys, he said, “He offered it if we needed privacy.”
Corrigan opened the door and said as I passed by him going inside, “He said these warehouses are owne
d by a few other celebrities, and they hardly ever come out here, if we knew what he meant.”
“He said those words?” The inside was dark, but I could feel the emptiness of it. The air was stale, and our voices echoed all around us.
“He did.” Then Corrigan came in, shutting the door after Bryce followed me inside. We were in complete darkness for a second, then the light was switched on and my heart dropped.
Michael Reveritt was tied up to a chair in the middle of the warehouse. The only things in the place were a private plane and a car. Storage shelves lined up one end of the warehouse, but that was it.
The plane. The car. The shelves. And Michael Reveritt.
“Guys,” I murmured, stepping backward. I just evaded going to jail. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to risk it again.
Bryce and Corrigan weren’t listening, though. They started forward. Bryce ripped off the duct tape on Michael’s mouth.
I cringed, hearing it pulled off and the cry of pain from him. Then he gazed up at them, moved as far as he could to the side so he could see me.
I jerked my gaze away. If Guadalupe and Maria hadn’t killed Grace, he was our best shot for answers. This had to be done. I closed my eyes and prayed to myself. We’d figure a way out of this. We had to. I had to trust Corrigan and Bryce. They wouldn’t have taken him if they didn’t have an out.
Then Michael began laughing. “This is hilarious.”
Corrigan smirked at him. “Your tone says otherwise.”
“Oh, really?”
“Really.”
Bryce circled to his side and folded his arms over his chest. “How long have you been stalking Sheldon?”
“What?” A look of panic was settling in his eyes and he swallowed, glancing from Corrigan to Bryce. Then he found me again. A pleading tone entered his voice, along with a slight tremble. “Sheldon, come on.”
Corrigan blocked me. “Don’t look at her. We’re asking the questions.”
“Guys,” Michael choked out now. “Come on.”
Bryce barked at him, “Come on, Ritt. Start talking. We know you have surveillance photos of her.”
“You what?”
“The cops told us.” Bryce began circling him, talking in a low voice.
If he wasn’t going for scary as shit, then he was grossly missing his mark because, damn, I had shivers going up and down my spine, and I wasn’t the one in the chair. Ritt’s trembling was contagious. I was starting to feel it in my gut, too. Along with it was hesitation. What the hell were we doing?
Then Corrigan added, a dangerous aura coming off him, “You think we’d let you go? Let the cops cut you loose and not do a thing? They told us what they had on you for a reason, Ritt. Over fifty photos of Sheldon. Please.” He stopped in front of his chair and leaned down, placing his hands on the arm rests. His face was so close to Ritt’s. He was almost breathing on him. “Explain to us how you’re not the one stalking her?”
“Did you kill Grace?” Bryce asked from behind him.
Corrigan added next. “Did you frame Sheldon for Grace’s murder?”
I watched and realized they were tag teaming. They were both going at him from different angles, different tone of voices, different threat levels. Corrigan was soft and menacing. Bryce was commanding and angry. Both were a threat, and they were both going full-force at Ritt.
They wanted to scare him off-balance. He might crack then.
It wasn’t going to work. Ritt was already panicked, but there was also a calmness in him. He wasn’t jerking around his chair. He was still perplexed he was even in this situation.
He wasn’t going to take it seriously.
He knew Bryce and Corrigan wouldn’t really do anything to him, at least, nothing permanent like death or paralysis. They’d kick his ass, but that was it.
It had to be me. I had to do it. I was the wild card. Ritt really had no clue who I really was. My chin lifted.
It was time he met the real me.
As I made the decision, I felt something melting away in me. The old Sheldon was coming out to play, and she was going to have fun. No. She was going to relish this moment. As I stepped forward, the guys sensed the switch in me. Corrigan stiffened with his back to me. Bryce looked up, and his eyes widened. His shoulders jerked back, and he narrowed his eyes next. Ritt saw me as I stood next to Corrigan.
He looked confused.
Poor guy.
Corrigan glanced sideways at me, but he didn’t say anything. Neither did Bryce. They were waiting.
Our old dynamic really was back.
Then I spied the knife in Corrigan’s back pocket. As I took it out, he frowned at me. He still didn’t say anything.
Ritt sucked in his breath. His eyes got even bigger. “Uh, what? What are you going to do with that, Sheldon?” His wrists were taped to the chair, and his hands curled into the armrests. His feet were planted against the floor, and he tried to scoot the chair back.
It scooted right into Bryce.
Ritt looked up, saw that Bryce wasn’t moving, and groaned. “Oh no.”
I held the knife in front of me and looked at it. It was so small, so sleek, but so lethal at the same time. It was perfect. I murmured, “You know, Ritt, these guys grabbed you to ask a few questions.” I looked up and met his gaze over the knife’s blade. “But I have a feeling you’re not inclined to answer them.” I brandished the knife, waving it back and forth. It was almost pretty as the light reflected off it. “So I’m going to give you an incentive.”
“W-w-what are you talking about?” He swallowed again. “What kind of incentive?”
I grinned at him.
He sucked in his breath, knowing his question had been the wrong question to ask.
I said, “I’m glad you asked.”
Then I flipped the knife in the air, flicked my hand around, caught the handle, and slammed it into his leg.
He went lax for a second, then he let loose with a scream, tipping his head back.
I murmured softly while he kept screaming, “How about every time you don’t answer a question, I’ll start slicing?”
Michael wasn’t listening. He kept screaming, trying to scoot his chair away from us, but it didn’t matter. He couldn’t go anywhere. I still had a firm grasp on that knife, and it was still embedded in his thigh.
I was holding him anchored in one place.
Then I looked up and met Bryce’s gaze. He was startled, and he ran a hand over his face. He wasn’t the angry and commanding one anymore. He was hesitant, but that didn’t bother me. What bothered me was the new look he was giving me.
He was looking at me like I was stranger.
I drew upright, yanking the knife out as I did.
This brought on another burst of screams, but I dulled them out. I continued to stare at Bryce. Then I asked, quietly, “Isn’t this why you brought him here?”
He cursed under his breath. “Sheldon.”
I didn’t look at Corrigan. Somehow I knew that he wasn’t looking at me the same way. Somehow I knew he was right there with me. He understood.
I was tired. I was tired of being stalked. I was tired of being hunted. I was tired of losing friends. I was tired of it all so now it was my turn. I was done with being nice.
I shook my head at Bryce. If he couldn’t handle it, he needed to go. He understood the message and moved back a step, but his hands went into his pockets, and he stayed there. Fine. He wasn’t leaving, but he wasn’t joining in. I got it. So I looked up at Corrigan now, and I’d been right.
There was no hesitation, no shock, no questioning. He was ready, so I told him, “Ask your next question.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
Corrigan only had to ask a few. I did a couple more jabs, but I went for shallow cuts. I hadn’t completely checked out. I was still sane. Really hurting him wouldn’t help us get any information, but he needed to think I would do it. So I let a part of myself out that would’ve hurt him, the old me. I had hurt people when I was younger. I’d been
dumb, but it happened. That Sheldon got locked up after Marcus. I’d been scared of letting her out, but as I did just now, it felt good. It felt right.
Enough of her had to come out so that it was real. Michael had to sense it, that the threat was real, and a part of it was.
Michael denied stalking me. He denied killing Grace. He denied framing me, but when Corrigan demanded to know why he had those photos of me, Michael perked up. He was exhausted as he said, “That’s what this is about? Those photographs?”
Bryce made an exasperated sound behind him. “Are you kidding me?”
“Yeah.” Corrigan shook his head. “We already told you that.”
Michael frowned, looking from Corrigan to me. “For real? It’s just about those pictures?”
“What else do they have on you?”
“Uh . . .”
I started forward with the knife, my hand raised.
He cried out, “Okay, okay. I’ll tell you everything. I swear. Just—stop with the knife. Stop it.”
I lowered it, but raised my eyebrows. “We’re waiting.”
“Okay. Yes. I’m trying not to pee my pants, anymore.” He let out a deep breath, blinking his eyes a few times, and took a second breath to calm his nerves. “All right. This is what I thought you guys had on me, but I couldn’t figure out why you were so mad.” He looked from Corrigan to me and tried to turn around to see Bryce, but couldn’t. He ended up staring upward at Corrigan, a defeated expression already on his face before he started. Then he began, “You know that I wanted to sell study enhancers to college students, right?”
Corrigan nodded, his eyes lidded. “Yeah.”
“Well, I know it’s stupid. A business owner shouldn’t partake in what they’re selling, but that’s why I wanted to sell it. Because I wanted it. I have a prescription pill problem. I’ll take almost anything you give me, but I like Xanax and Ambien the most.”
“What?”
He looked to me. “I’m a pill popper. That’s my secret.”
“You’re a what whatter?” I scratched at my ear.
“I’m addicted to pills, and I’m running out. I’ve been trying to figure out ways to make money so that was why I’ve been pushing the house to get into the drug business.”