by S. J. Bishop
I'd rung the bell a couple of times before deciding I had better just go inside. I still had my key. Penny had never bothered to change the locks, so I just walked right on in. At first, I'd thought I was looking at a mannequin. She was lying face down, her arm bent at an odd angle and her blonde hair caked in red. A pool of blood ran over the hardwood floor of our kitchen—her kitchen—and I stared at it for several seconds before my brain finally comprehended that this was no mannequin
"Penny?" I'd asked. "Penny?" I’d walked closer to the lump that used to be my wife and knelt down, reaching out one hand to shake her. Her blood had soaked into my jeans. It was still warm. I’d rolled her over and saw her eyes opened wide in surprise. I had been too late. Penny had actually done it. A moment later, the cops had arrived.
"Mr. Ryder," Detective Anderson said, and I realized he was addressing me. “How long have you been standing here?”
"I told you what happened," I said. "Penny called me. She was upset. I came over to help her and found her... dead. I... I can't believe she really did it. I tried to stop her."
"So she was already dead when you arrived?"
"That's what I've been saying! Aren't you listening?" My anger flared, and I fought to keep it in check. The last thing I needed was to get into a shouting match with a police detective.
A flurry of reporters suddenly rushed the scene, crossing the yellow police tape the cops had put up all around the house. The officers hustled to push them back. Camera flashes went off left and right, making my head spin. This was worse than when I'd stumbled drunk from the locker room after my final game last season. At least that incident had been forgotten in a fog of beer and hard liquor. Now I was dead sober.
"Jesus, keep these reporters out of here!" Detective Anderson shouted at the group of cops milling around. "This is a crime scene, for Christ’s sake, not an amusement park!"
There was a rumbling of complaints from some of the cops, but I noticed several of them moved closer to the police tape.
"Alright, alright," Detective Anderson said to himself, shaking his head. He kept making these odd faces, like he'd eaten something foul tasting. He pursed his lips together and squinted at the ground. When he looked back up, it was with new determination. "Let's just get you down to the station; we can go over everything there."
"Why do I need to go to the station?" I asked, finally starting to snap out of the trance I'd been in. Something felt off about the way Detective Anderson kept questioning me. "I just want to get home and get out of these clothes."
"This isn't a choice, Mr. Ryder. You're going down to the station with me." He unhooked the handcuffs from his belt. They dangled ominously from his fingertips, and something suddenly clicked into place.
"Am I being arrested?"
Detective Anderson's answer was to place his hand on my shoulder and spin me around. I couldn't help myself. I reacted by lurching forward and snapping my arm away from him in an attempt to free it from his grip. Two other officers rushed me, each taking hold of one arm as Detective Anderson forced the cuffs around my wrists.
"Why are you arresting me?" I cried out as camera flashes went off in a blinding wave of light.
"Jax Ryder, you are under arrest for the murder of Penny Ryder. You have the right to remain silent—"
"What the fuck are you talking about? I didn't kill Penny! She killed herself."
"People don't shoot themselves in the forehead, Mr. Ryder," Detective Anderson said. "And they don't hide their gun after they're already dead. Only murderers do that."
"I didn't kill Penny!" I shouted again.
"Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed for you."
I felt sick to my stomach. Detective Anderson spun me toward a police cruiser. I stumbled toward it, unable to believe this was happening. The whole thing was too surreal. Just then, an unmarked car pulled up to the scene. The door opened and Treena stepped out. We stared at each other a long minute before she shut her door and started toward us.
12
Treena
"About time you showed up," Anderson said.
"I got here as fast as I could," I said, trying to keep my voice steady. My heart raced in my chest as I approached him and Jax. What the hell was going on here? Jax was covered in blood. He looked like he'd... well, like he'd killed someone.
"Thank God you're here," Jax said when I got close enough. I froze. If Anderson knew that I'd been with Jax earlier tonight, I'd be off the case in a heartbeat. I'd never be able to help Jax; he'd be completely on his own. And I'd lose any credibility I had in the department. Not that I had much to begin with, but if it got around that I'd slept with the first murder suspect I'd been sent to investigate, I might as well transfer out of the department tonight. I'd never be able to live it down.
Anderson looked from me to Jax. "Do you know this man?" he asked me.
"No," I immediately said and sent Jax a silent plea with my eyes to back me up. At least until I knew more about the situation. I was positive Jax hadn't killed anyone. This would all be sorted out in a few hours, and Jax would be able to go home. If, somehow, my being with Jax tonight was critical to proving his innocence, then I'd step up in the blink of an eye. But there was no point in ruining my entire career if it wasn't necessary.
Anderson looked at me skeptically. Jax's lips tightened, but finally he said, "No, but a beautiful woman compared to your ugly mug is always gonna be a welcome addition. Maybe she's got more sense than you and will actually listen to what I've got to say instead of crucifying me without knowing the facts."
Anderson rolled his eyes but seemed to accept our statements. "You can fill us both in at the station," he said and shoved Jax's shoulder toward the car. Jax reacted with an angry snarl and jerked away from him. I quickly put out a restraining hand. Even in handcuffs, I was pretty sure Jax could pulverize Anderson if he wanted to. He was a football player and twice the size of Anderson.
"Why don't you just give me a quick summary of what happened," I asked him, shooting a quick glance toward Anderson, who kept one hand on Jax's shoulder and the other on his gun.
Jax looked at me and cleared his throat. His golden skin was tinged with varying shades of pink. A dark red smear ran across his forehead. "I got a call from Penny, my ex-wife. It was late. She was drunk. She said she was gonna kill herself. I came over here to stop her. When I got here, she was already dead."
"Did you see anything or anyone?" I asked.
"No."
"You didn't hear anything?"
Jax shook his head.
Anderson rolled his eyes. "Alright, enough of this bullshit. If you didn't kill her, where were you between midnight and four a.m.?"
Jax looked at me. "I was with a friend," he said.
"A friend, huh?" Anderson smirked. "Does this friend have a name?"
Shit.
Could this really be happening? Was I really Jax's alibi?
"Why midnight and four?" I asked.
Anderson rolled his eyes again and let out an exasperated sigh. "Because that's when the coroner is placing the initial time of death. We'll be able to narrow it down a bit more after he does an autopsy."
My mind worked fast. I'd fallen asleep sometime around two. I had no idea when Jax had left my apartment. I'd woken up at five when Anderson called me. I could place Jax with me from midnight to two, but not after that. Then Anderson said something that rattled me to the core.
"We have a witness."
"A witness?" I asked, trying not to show my alarm. Jax looked just as startled as I felt.
"That's right."
"What time does the witness place him here?"
Anderson stepped closer to me and lowered his voice so only I could hear. "It's a little tricky. The woman is quite elderly and isn't certain of the exact time, but she knows it was late. Within the coroner's estimate."
Jax was watching us. It
felt like there was a tug of war going on inside my brain. On one side was the rational me. The me that knew the right thing to do would be to tell Anderson everything. Right now. The other side was the me who'd wanted to be a cop since fourth grade. The me who'd stayed up nights studying for the detective's exam. The me who didn't want to ruin the one thing in my life that had given me focus and made me feel whole.
"I'm taking him down," Anderson said. "Meet us at the station."
I nodded, watching him put Jax into the back of his car before getting back into my own. What the hell was I gonna do now?
13
Jax
I was mad. Fuck that. I was pissed. What the hell was Treena thinking? What the hell was I thinking? The second Detective Anderson had placed Penny's death between midnight and four, I should've told him that I was with Treena. I almost had. I'd opened my mouth, the words at the back of my throat, but then I'd seen her eyes. They were worried and afraid and begged me not to say anything.
I'd shut my mouth.
As I sat in the interrogation room, feeling the lights from above weighing on me like a shoulder press, I couldn't help wondering if I was making a huge mistake. Treena stood next to Detective Anderson, looking pale and worn. Even now she was beautiful. Last night, I'd won a second chance with her. I couldn't do anything to lose that chance now or I'd never get it back. Still, I wasn't crazy. Going to jail was not an option. I'd lose everything I'd worked for, including my second chance with Treena. If it came down to it, I decided, I'd have to give her up as my alibi. But that time wasn't now. My lawyer was on his way, and I wanted to wait until he got here. I also wanted to talk to Treena alone, first.
Detective Anderson banged his fist on the table. It rattled the glass of water they'd given me but missed having the effect I thought he was after. He was trying to scare me. And yes I was rattled, but not by him. It was the image of Penny that haunted me. The idea that anyone might think me capable of killing her. I'd been in some tough situations before, though, and had always come through. I wasn't about to let Detective Anderson push me into saying or doing something I might regret later.
"If you didn't kill her, then who did?" Detective Anderson said through gritted teeth. His eyes narrowed into slits, and his lips actually seemed to shrink. I had to bite my tongue to stop myself from laughing. He looked constipated.
"I have no idea," I told him.
He paced the room, glancing at the large mirror on the wall where I knew others were watching and probably recording everything I said. At least they'd given me some clean clothes before they'd put me in here.
"Alright, let's try this again," he said. "Where did you hide the gun?"
I let out a long breath. We'd been going in circles for over an hour already.
"I think I should wait for my lawyer to get here before I say anything else," I finally said. I'd called Geoffrey Stevens upon arriving at the station and knew he had to be on his way.
"Of course," Detective Anderson said. "That's your right. Usually, it's only the guilty who use that right, but hey, what do I know? I've just got eight years on the force working homicide."
Treena's eyes bugged out of her head. "Keith, that's not really fair," she said. Detective Anderson circled on her, and I saw her cringe.
"I think I know a little more about this than you, Detective Walker. Unless you think that spending two full days as a homicide detective somehow makes you more qualified than me. If that's the case, then go ahead. Question Mr. Ryder. Let's see that perfect exam score of yours in action."
I wanted to wipe the smug look right off that asshole's face. I didn't like the way he was talking to Treena or to me. He clearly thought he was better than everyone else. It made me want to keep my mouth shut and keep Treena out of this. I could see why she didn't want me to say anything. If that asshole ever got wind that we were together last night, he'd probably use it to his own advantage. God only knew what a snob like him might do with that type of information.
Treena steeled the glint in her eyes and rounded her shoulders back. "Having more experience doesn't make you smarter, only more arrogant," she said.
I couldn't help the chuckle that escaped my lips. Detective Anderson rounded on me. "You think this is funny?" he yelled. "You won't think it's so funny when you're behind bars. Now tell me where you hid that gun!"
It was just then that the door to the interrogation room opened and an apologetic Officer Wilson showed my lawyer into the room. He was a large man with a round, protruding belly that reminded me of Orson Welles. At fifty, he'd been practicing law for almost twenty-five years. I'd used him a couple of times to help me get out of some drunk driving charges and a few other misdemeanors—it was easy to get into a bar fight when you were drunk and looking for someone to take your frustrations out on. He'd always come through for me, and I knew he would now too.
"Detective Anderson," he snarled, then glanced behind the detective to Treena. "And Detective Walker, I presume. Since this is our first meeting, I'll make this short and sweet. I am Geoffrey Stevens, Mr. Ryder's attorney. Should either of you feel the need to question my client again without me in the room, I shall not hesitate to file charges against you both for harassment and failure to adhere to my client's Miranda Rights."
I felt bad for Treena, who looked like she'd been slapped across the face, but a small part of me thought she deserved it. She was placing me in a difficult position, and part of me resented her for it.
"Have you said anything?" Geoffrey asked me.
I shook my head. "Only that I didn't do it."
He nodded once and turned to Detective Anderson. "My client has no more to say to you at this time." He turned back to me. "I'll have you out on bail in the morning. Until then, keep your mouth shut."
I nodded my understanding, and Detective Anderson let out a long sigh, knowing that he was out of options now. He turned toward the mirror on the wall. "Take him to his cell." A moment later, Officer Wilson appeared and hauled me out of the room.
"I'll be down to see you after I sort out a few things up front," Geoffrey called after me.
Officer Wilson led me down a long, dark hall that felt cold and scuzzy. The lighting was nonexistent, and when we finally got to my cell, it was with a strange feeling of relief that the bars closed behind me. At least this part of the night was over. Hopefully, the morning would bring better results.
14
Treena
I sat at my desk, staring at the paperwork I'd never quite finished from the other day. I'd been staring at it for five minutes already, zoning out, while the department hustled and bustled around me. No one seemed to be paying me any attention, which was probably a good thing right now. My mind wouldn't stop racing. Was it possible that Jax had really killed his ex-wife? No, of course not. Still...
He had left my apartment in the middle of the night to go to Penny's house. I had no idea what time he'd actually left. All I knew was that I'd fallen asleep around two, maybe a bit before. When I'd woken up, he was gone. It seemed a little strange. Even if she had called him, threatening to kill herself as he'd said she'd been, it seemed odd to me that he'd go over there. I mean, she was his ex-wife.
Then again, when I'd thought Jax was in trouble, I'd hightailed it over to the crime scene, ready to help him in any way I could. And Jax was my ex-everything. It had only been when I'd arrived and seen him in handcuffs and the scowl on Anderson's face, that part of me had frozen. The defense that I'd been mentally preparing for Jax on my drive over had evaporated in the blink of an eye. Jesus, I was such a chicken.
"Hey," a woman's voice said. I looked up from my desktop and saw Emily standing there, frowning at me. "I need to talk to you," she said.
I nodded and looked around the room. No one was watching us. The novelty of a woman homicide detective was already starting to wear off, at least when there was real work to be done.
"Sure," I said, already knowing what Emily was going to say. She wasn't stupid. I was sure she was wo
ndering what had happened after she'd left Jon and Buddy's last night. I stood up and followed her into one of the smaller conference rooms off the hall. My phone buzzed in my pocket, and I stole a quick glance at the text I'd just received from Clarissa.
I just saw the news. What the hell is going on? Did Jax really kill someone?!?
I sent a quick reply that I'd call her later and closed the door behind me and Emily.
"What the hell is going on?" she asked, turning on me.
"Nothing," was my automatic response.
She shot me an irritated look. "Don't play dumb with me, Treena. I was there last night. I saw you with Jax, remember?" She had her finger pointed at me, and it took every fiber in my being not to yank it.
I sighed. "Yes, we talked. He wanted to apologize for the way he left things with me in Colorado."
"And?" Emily prompted.
"And nothing," I lied. "The last time I saw him was seven years ago, Emily. You know that. Running into him last night was just a huge coincidence. His apology was nothing more than part of his whole AA thing."
"Meaning what, exactly?"
I wished Emily would just let this go, but she was quite tenacious. I thought that when she finally passed the exam, she'd make an excellent detective. "Meaning that I told Jax I forgave him, and we went our separate ways."
"You didn't go home with him?"
"Of course not." I felt bad for lying—Emily was the only friend I had in the department—but what was I supposed to do? I didn't want anyone knowing that I'd been with Jax last night. Even though Emily was my friend, she was also sleeping with Anderson. Where exactly did her loyalties lie?
Emily exhaled, looking intently at me as if she was trying to read my mind. "Okay," she finally said. "I believe you."
I breathed a sigh of relief. "So you won't say anything?" I asked.