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“You fucking saw me!”Chris screams, his entire body shaking, his face bright red from the skin on his cheek being split open.
“Saw you doing what?” the officer restraining him demands.
When Chris doesn’t respond, the officer yanks his arms again, gripping them tighter as Chris winces in pain.
“She saw you doing what?” he repeats, his voice sharp and angry.
Chris’s voice breaks into a sob as tears roll down his face.
“Did you kill the man that was found on Chando’s Grove Friday night?” Torres demands.
Chris doesn’t say anything, but his head nods ever so slightly.
“Why?” the second officer barks.
When Chris doesn’t speak, he yanks his arms again and repeats the question, louder this time. “Why?”
“He owed us money,” Chris says, his voice barely a whisper. “It was part of my initiation.”
Something flickers inside me – a momentary pang of compassion as tears roll down his face and fall on to the icy ground.
In that millisecond of a moment, he’s just that seventeen-year-old boy that had got in with the wrong crowd and got into a bit of trouble, not a hardened murderer.
But my pity ends there as the hurricane of emotions swirling within me rises and I remember the terror that gripped me when he showed up at my door.
Hekilledsomeone.
He threatened me.
Destroyed my home.
Stalked us.
I say nothing, my gaze softening as I look at Marcus.
I want to crumble into his arms, but he’s still being restrained, which is probably for the best, as otherwise another murder may have happened here tonight.
I look at the two police officers and suddenly, the pieces slot together in my mind.They’vebeen the ones following us. Torres I placed earlier as being the one I saw from the coffee shop, and the other I now realise was the one I saw watching us in the library.
“Thank you,” I say, directing my gaze to the officers. “We may have both been dead if you hadn’t arrived tonight.”
Torres smiles lightly. “I doubt that, darlin’. When we got here, it looked like your partner here was more like the one doing the killing.”
A fresh wave of panic crashes over me, squeezing my chest tight.Is Marcus going to be arrested?
“He had a knife!” I cry. “Look! He cut his arm!” I shout, pointing at Marcus as tears spill down my face and my breath catches in my throat, my heart shuddering with palpitations.
No. This cannot be happening.
Torres glances downwards. “Okay. Alright,” he says calmly, his tone soft but firm. “Just take a breath.”
The officers exchange a look between them for a moment.
“You good?” Torres asks Marcus, who grits his teeth and nods, and Torres releases him.
He takes a cautious step towards me. “Lila – is it? I’m going to need to take that from you, alright?”
I follow his gaze down to my hand, suddenly aware of the cold, slick handle of the knife in my palm. I hadn’t even been aware I was still holding it.