Page 138 of Riding the Sugar High

There’s nothing on there for me. Everything I want has already slipped through my fingers.

When there’s a frantic knock at my door, I jump up and bring a hand to my chest. “Jesus,” I mumble when the knocking continues. Yes, I’m coming.”

I walk to the door, then open it, Kyle’s crazed eyes meeting mine. “Prim, you have to come back—you have to help me.” He enters the room, pacing at the foot of the bed as he rubs both hands on his short brown hair. “I don’t know what to do, and—this is so fucked up, okay? All he left is a message, and then I had to take the pigs and bring them home. And he said there’s a check? This check?—”

“Kyle?” I call, my heartbeat quickening as I try to understand what he’s saying.

He shakes his head. “What am I supposed to do with it? Simon’s kid is sick, and he doesn’t answer his phone and?—”

“Kyle!” I insist as I grasp his arm. I have no idea what he’s talking about, but I canfeelthat something happened to Logan. And I know it’s my fault. “What happened?”

He grimaces, worried wrinkles appearing on his forehead. “They took him away—the police. He got arrested.”

love me

Primrose

“What do you mean?”asks the old officer as he leans over the counter.

“I...I was the one who set Derek Gracen’s trash on fire—accidentally. And—and I stole his pigs.Notaccidentally.”

I’ve already told him this, but he keeps staring at me as if we’re speaking two different languages, and I don’t have time to chat. I need to confess, and I need Logan to be out of here immediately. I need him home with Paco and Lola. With all of his animals. I need him free, because if there’s someone who would die in lockup, it’s Logan. He’d perish, like a flower with no water and sunshine.

“You,” the policeman insists. “You did all that.”

“Yes, me.”

“I thought we arrested Coleman.” He looks to the right, through a door that leads into a small room. “Hey—Harper! Get back here!”

Harper. That must be Connor.

He steps out of the room, pulling up his beige pants, and pins his eyes on me. “Sugar High. What can we do for you?”

“She says she’s here to confess about that whole Gracen thing,” the cop at reception explains. “I thought you got Coleman for it.”

Connor exhales, and noticing the coy grin on his face, I know he won’t take this seriously. “We did. He sold us a plausible story too, I’m afraid.”

I swallow hard, wishing Josie were here. Even though I’m not her biggest fan right now, I have a feeling she’s the only cop in this station who would be interested in hearing what I have to say. “But youknowit wasn’t him.”

He shrugs. “I know no such thing.”

Goddammit. After Kyle came to the hotel, I sent him to the farm and came straight here, but I didn’t consider the resistance I would meet at the station. Connor is perfectly happy framing Logan for this—he doesn’t care what actually happened.

“The cab driver,” I blurt. “I—I took a cab to Derek’s place. I don’t know his name, but his parents live on the same street as Derek’s parents, and?—”

“Yes, we already talked to him. His records show he drove you to Derek’s farm, but he swears he dropped you off at Logan’s. That you gave him the wrong street number.”

What?! Why would he do that?

“He also said that when he was laid off from his last job, Logan provided his family with fruit and vegetables—sometimes even money.” He looks around before whispering, “Let me give you some advice, all right? Go home. Don’t tank your career. Logan will take the fall, and it’s not like he doesn’t deserve it. The only reason we didn’t arrest that hillbilly before is because we didn’t have enough proof.”

“Do you have itnow?” I ask with an impatient gesture. All they have is a cab driver whose records reflect he’s lying, and a scrunchie that obviously belongs to me.

“We don’t need it. He confessed.”

“Well, I’m confessing too! And you’ll see, my story is much more convincing than Logan’s. You have to take my statement—you can’t just—you know what,” I continue, my voice rising as panic stings my throat. “I want to talk to the captain. Or sheriff. Whatever you have here.”

“Fine, fine. Calm down.” He rubs his head, then, with a long sigh, grabs a form and begins filling it out. “Rob, is the interrogation room free?”