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actually patted me on the shoulder as they walked by, as if silently thanking me.
Alice came back just as the junkie in the red folding chair began to scream about sobering up. She rolled her eyes at him and plopped a takeout bag on her desk.
“Dig in,” she said, taking a sip of her coffee. “Agent Barkley will be giving you your formal questioning in about an hour, and if he finds out I fed you he’ll try to get me fired.”
“Why?” I asked through a mouthful of French fries. Alice sighed and sat back in her chair.
“Well, Mrs. Fastner is saying Jacob attacked Sam in self-defense. She obviously wasn’t there, and there are so many witnesses on your side… I don’t know how she did it, but this case got handed over to the FBI.”
“What?” I choked. “I have four people who saw me kill him, one who saw him stab Sam, and this case isn’t already solved?”
“I’m sorry, kid,” Alice said. “I know it sounds totally crazy. But the truth is…”
“What?” I demanded when she paused. “The truth is what?”
“He died, but he’s not exactly dead.”
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For all my favorite authors.
You inspired me to branch out
Samantha Steele
Prologue
My heart thudded in my chest. The gunshot rang painfully loud in my ears. Jacob fell to his knees, clutching his chest, and stared at me. His eyes were wide and full of not only fear, but embarrassment.
Lowering the gun, I let out a shuddering breath as Mitchell called for an ambulance. For a moment, my entire world was slow and blurry. Mitchell’s shout was drug out in my ears, a long, ghostly wail.
And suddenly I was back in my own living room, holding another gun, staring at another dead man. Carl Schaeffer was his name. He had deserved to die. He had been raping my sister, Lilith, who was now crying and hugging her knees to her chest. I looked behind me as my father came in the door, shouting at me, and then slapping me.
“Zac, get a hold of yourself!” Mitch cried, slapping me again. “Help me bring her downstairs!”
“I’m holding the elevator!” Evan shouted from the hallway. Annika was sitting in Sam’s red-stained sheets, crying and staring at her hands, which were covered in blood.
Cami and Bryce were in the room now, trying to decipher the horrific scene. They saw Mitch gathering Sam in his arms, and Cami fell to pieces, screaming and falling to the floor. Then she saw Jacob, and her screams pierced my eardrums like serrated blades.
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“Get a towel,” Mitch commanded. I snatched one off the bathroom counter and followed him down the hallway. When we were in the elevator, Mitch grabbed the knife to pull it out.
Sam’s eyes widened in fear and she made a harsh, gurgling-scream noise.
“I have to take it out!” Mitch shouted unnecessarily.
“It’s slowing the bleeding,” Evan said from the corner of the elevator. “Her neck will start gushing if you remove it.”
Sam agreed with the barest nod of her head and a wet-sounding wheeze. I heard the ambulance in the distance.
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Chapter One
Alice was about to answer my flurry of questions when the police chief waddled into the room behind me. He was a large man - to say the least - and he carried a gooey doughnut in one hand and a giant cup of coffee in the other.
“That boy,” the chief called, pointing his doughnut at me,
“should be in a cell, not learning vital information about his own prosecution!”
Alice sat up straight, her mouth now a thin line. Not sure what to do, I wolfed down the last bite of the burger and hastily wiped my mouth.
“Did you FEED HIM?” the chief bellowed. Alice shook her head violently and shoved a fry into her mouth.
“He was brought in on my lunch break,” she said quickly.
The chief eyed me suspiciously, but he walked into his office without another word. “Come on,” Alice said, standing up. “I better get you into a cell before I get fired.”
Alice led me down another hallway into a long, cement room of holding cells. There were a few drunken old men and the hooker from earlier, but most of the cells were empty. I was placed in the one farthest from the door.
“I’m sorry it has to come to this,” Alice said. “But our interrogation rooms are currently full. Otherwise I’d let you wait in there.”
“How many people were arrested today?” I joked. Alice sighed.
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“Twenty-four, including the hooker and the two drunks.
But we didn’t have to interview them.”
“What were they all arrested for?” I asked, bewildered.
“We did a drug bust out in Government Hill,” Alice said, leaning against the bars of my cell. She nodded towards the hooker. “We picked her up there, too. Anyway, I can’t really make you any more comfortable, but at least I fed you.”
I watched Alice walk away and close the heavy door behind her. Sighing, I lay down on the hard metal bench in the cell and bent my knees to take pressure off my aching back. Just as I closed my eyes, the hooker whispered to me.
“Zac?” she asked. I opened one eye and stared straight into my sister’s face. “Hey, little brother.”
“Lily! You got busted for hooking? Are you nuts?” I exploded, sitting up and gripping the bars between us. I shook my head.
“Oh, you’re one to talk,” she scoffed, folding her arms across her scantily clad chest. “YOU’RE in jail, too, lil’ bro.”
“Fair enough,” I said, nodding. “Murder is worse than hooking.”
“MURDER?” my sister squeaked, shrinking away from me. “Who did you murder?”
“Jacob Fastner,” I growled.
“Zachary, why the hell would you murder someone?”
Lily rasped, clutching her chest.
“He was trying to kill Mitch’s girlfriend. I hope she’s all right.”
“You mean that little girl all you boys are in love with?
Someone wanted to kill her?”
“And he would have succeeded, too, if I hadn’t found Macy tied up in her car and gone to the hotel.”
“You lost me…” Lily said, her eyes wide. I began to relay the entire incident to her. I was about halfway through when an officer came through the door and unlocked my cell.
“Time for your interview,” the officer said.
“Good luck,” Lily called after me.
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I was roughly led back down the hallway and into a classic interrogation room: grey brick walls, a shiny metal table with two very uncomfortable metal chairs, no windows, and a two-way mirror. The officer shoved me down into the chair and cuffed each of my hands to it.
After a minute or two, the door opened. I looked up to see my mother. Her makeup was smearing down her face and her eyes were red and puffy.
“Oh, Zac,” she said, coming towards me and getting down her knees. She grabbed one of my hands in hers. “I’m so sorry.”
“Mom,” I began, but she interrupted me.
“I’m sorry we raised you to be like this. I just didn’t know what to do. You were so difficult, and we were so poor, and your father was so adamant…”
“Mom, this wasn’t about Dad,” I said, rolling my eyes.
My mom sniffled and wiped her nose on the sleeve of her sweater. A cop came in with another chair for my mom and left, slamming the door so hard I jumped.
“I’m just here for the law,” my mom said, her voice shaking. “I won’t say anything. I won’t make your decisions ever again, sweetheart.” I rolled my eyes and mumbled something along the lines of “okay, Mom,” but I didn’t really care. If I was lucky, she’d go to sleep. But most likely she’d try and answer all the questions for me, just like my dad did when he too
k the fall for me the first time.
Another cop came in, this one dressed much nicer than the others, wearing a suit and tie. One of the desk guys, I supposed. He sat down across from me with a tape recorder and a manila folder.
“Are you going to record him?” my mother asked, her voice squeaking.
“Yes, Mrs. Bell, this is his formal interview. If he confesses on this tape, we’ll ask him to confess on film as well.”
“Isn’t that a little excessive?” my mom asked.
“Mom, please,” I said softly, fighting the urge to roll my eyes yet again. I wanted to say this was probably the first
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interesting case homicide had had in years, but I didn’t want to piss the cop off.
“You have a rather impressive record, Mr. Bell,” the cop said, opening the folder and looking over its contents, which I assumed were my records. “This appears to be the second awkward murder you’ve been involved in.”
I wanted to mention that, according to Alice, I hadn’t actually killed Jacob, but the cop continued before my mom or I could interrupt.
“You’re not the smartest kid, are you? It seems you had to go to SAVE in order to catch up. But according to your boss, you have an impeccable work ethic. I’m a little confused.”
I answered with a shrug. It was okay when Mitch joked about me being stupid, but I didn’t like be insulted by anyone else.
“I don’t appreciate you tearing down my son without making any accusations,” my mom said, straightening her back and sniffling pointedly.
“Well, then, Mr. Bell, I accuse you of plotting to murder Jacob Fastner.”
My mother gasped, but I just shrugged again.
“You don’t seem terribly concerned by your situation, Mr.
Bell.”
“I’m guilty. I won’t deny it. And I’d do it again if I had to.
I was saving a life.”
“Zachary! Don’t say things like that! You don’t have to say anything you don’t want to.”
“Mom, I did kill him. He was going to kill her. I had to do something.”
“I’m not so sure,” the cop said, crossing his arms over his chest. “The Fastner boy is still in surgery, but his mother claims you and your friends tortured him on a daily basis.”
“That’s preposterous!” my mom cried. I wasn’t sure she even knew what “preposterous” meant.
“First of all,” I began with a sigh, “I don’t go to South, so I was never really involved in any of that, if it actually happened.
Second, I’ve been around Jacob enough to know he wasn’t right in
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the head. He said on more than one occasion that he wanted Sam to die.”
“Yes, see? The other boy was plotting murder,” my mom added.
“And why was that?” the cop asked, staring at my mother so violently she cringed.
“He hated her. I guess he thought it was her fault Cami didn’t like him,” I answered.
“Who’s Cami?”
“One of Sam’s friends. She was at the hotel. I think she saw me shoot him. Look, I’m really curious, why does everyone keep saying Jacob didn’t die? I mean, I shot him in the heart didn’t I? He wasn’t moving, and as far as I know no one tried to check up on him. They were all too interested in Sam, right?”
“Anchorage isn’t a big murder town,” the cop said with a sigh, sitting back in his chair. “The coroner was almost overjoyed when the EMTs called him - all they did was check his pulse real quick and pronounce him dead - obviously the girl with the knife in her neck-”
“Sam,” I interrupted. The cop rolled his eyes.
“Whatever, Sam was obviously more important to them.
Anyway, forensics didn’t really have much to do since we already had you in custody, so the body was sent to the morgue. But when it got there, the coroner poked the kid’s chest to start getting the bullet out and the kid screamed bloody murder, no pun intended. Coroner said he’d never had a body scream and open its eyes, so he checked the kid’s pulse and found it very faintly beating. You shot him through the lung, not the heart. Kid’s in surgery, doctors say the outcome looks good. So now you’re in for attempted murder, and the other side has a real defense.”
“Shit,” I whined, putting my head on the table to contain the nausea breeching in my chest. The gravity of my situation was finally starting to hit. I was probably going to prison this time.
“Did you ever hear these alleged death threats?” the cop asked.
“What? You mean the ones Jacob made? Uh, I don’t think so. But Mitch told me about them.”
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The cop looked at the file in front of him. “Mitch is Samantha’s boyfriend, yes?”
“Yes,” I confirmed. “For a few months.”
“And, how do you know all these kids?”
“I used to go to school with them until I switched to SAVE. Mitch and I were best friends.”
“You ‘were’ best friends?”
“Well, we are still, I just mean at school, I guess, look how is that relevant? Don’t I need to talk to my lawyer or something?” The cop laughed.
“You have the right to call your lawyer at anytime, son.
But we already have your confession. Usually only the guilty guys call for a lawyer.”
“I meant to explain what’s going on. My lawyer is on my side. None of you seem to be.”
“Well, you did try to kill someone.”
“I’m on your side, baby,” my mom cooed, putting a hand on my arm. I ignored her.
“I was protecting someone else! Doesn’t that count for anything? He probably would’ve killed me, too! And everyone else there! It was his gun, or Christ’s sake!”
The cop’s head snapped up and he looked much more interested.
“It was Jacob’s gun? Not yours?” he asked. I nodded.
“You thought I’d give my child a gun?” my mother scoffed. “We’re liberals, for God’s sake!”
“It was in his bag just outside the door. I don’t know where he got it from.”
“Interesting… we’ll have to look into that.”
The cop asked me a bunch of other mundane questions that I’d already answered to either Alice or the first guy who took my file off her desk. I tried not to be rude, but I felt like they were only asking questions that had guilty answers. I mean, I was guilty, I wholeheartedly admitted that, but Alice was the only one who seemed to believe I was actually trying to protect someone.
It was like all they had were loaded questions: Did you kill him?
Yes. Do you feel guilty? Absolutely not.
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The interview took about an hour. It probably would have been shorter, but my mother kept interrupting with stupid side comments I either had to explain or defend. The cop asked me the same questions repeatedly, probably hoping I’d give a different answer and he’d yell at me to quit lying and get my story straight.
Only I wasn’t lying, and he didn’t really get anywhere other than on my nerves.
“Well, that just about sums things up,” the cop said, turning off the tape recorder and closing the manila folder. “If you’ll just wait here for a few minutes, I’ll get the video camera and we’ll take your video confession.”
“This is ridiculous,” I said after the door closed behind the cop.
“I know, honey,” my mom consoled, patting my arm.
“He stabbed her in the fucking neck. She was bleeding to death. He was fighting Mitch. I had no choice. It had to stop.”
“I know you did what you thought you had to,” my mom said with a sniffle. “I’m sorry we raised you to be so violent.”
“Raised me to be violent?” I snapped, struggling against my handcuffs to sit up straight and look angry. “Is that what you think of me? You think you raised me to be a violent kid? How about brave? I risked the rest of my li
fe to save a girl I barely know!”
“I’m sorry,” my mother said again, trying to look sympathetic. “If only we hadn’t…”
“Beaten me? If only you hadn’t been child abusers?”
“Yes,” my mom whispered, tears welling in her eyes.
The cop came back in with a video camera and a tripod, which he set up on the desk. He opened the viewer and clicked the on button, aiming the lens at me.
“When I point at you, tell the camera what you did. Start by stating your name and the date, and then tell the whole story, from beginning to end. Mrs. Bell, if you could move to the left a bit, you’re in the frame.”
I watched as my mom scooted her chair back from me, and the cop gave me the signal as he hit record.
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As I began to speak, I looked at the tape recorder, which was under the video camera. I noticed the blinking red light - the cop hadn’t turned it off.
He’d recorded my mother.
Perhaps he was on my side after all.
After my video confession, the cop led my mother and I out into the hallway where I was cuffed to yet another chair. My mother kept patting my arms and rubbing my shoulder, trying to console me. I just found it annoying. Why would she bother to care now, of all times?
Why didn’t she care when my father put his cigarette out on my chest? Why didn’t she care when he fractured my eye socket in ninth grade?
Why didn’t she care I was born?
After about ten minutes, Alice came by with a sad smile.
“I’d like to say the worst is over, but I don’t like to lie to anyone but my ex-husband,” she said, unlocking my handcuffs.
“Unfortunately, we’re going to hold you for the night, unless someone can bail you out.”
Alice pointedly looked at my mother as she said this, but my mom just looked at me sadly and ignored Alice altogether.
“Don’t worry,” I said to Alice, “she doesn’t have the time, money, or sympathy to bail me out. Just show me to my cell, please.”
“I wish I could help you,” Alice said as she led me back to the holding cells. “But I’d get in a lot of trouble. Is there anyone you’d like to call?”
I thought about calling Mitch, but he didn’t have enough money to bail me out. Besides, I was a little too ashamed to ask for it.
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