Page 28 of Nightshades
Dropping my hands, I notice all three men are staring at me. I rear back, knowing exactly what they are thinking.
“You can’t possibly think I had anything to do with that man’s murder? I can’t rip a spine out of someone, Jake! That’s impossible. Do you know how much strength that would take? I’m flattered you think I’m strong enough to do that.” I stand, the chair grinding against the floor, and slap my hands on the table. “But don’t you fucking dare come into my home and question my integrity. On my badge, I did not kill that man.”
Jake shakes his head, then points to my chair. “Sit down, Detective. I don’t think you’re a cold-blooded killer, but your car is at the crime scene. I need an explanation.”
I plop down in the chair, knowing exactly how a suspect feels now when they are the ones being questioned. Zig pats me on the shoulder to comfort me, but something about his touch has me leaning away from him. My entire body felt disgusted by the friendly gesture.
That’s new.
“I don’t know,” I reply in an ashamed whisper. “I really don’t know. I remember driving home last night in the rain and swerving to miss something or someone standing in the road. Oh…” I cover my mouth in realization, my hand shaking from the truth. “Jake, did I hit him? Is that what happened? I didn’t swerve? Oh god, I think I’m going to be sick.”
I barely reach the sink before I’m gagging, the horror of what I’ve done twisting my gut.
“No! Fuck no, Lula. The victim wasn’t hit by a car. We don’t know what happened, but when we didn’t find you in the vehicle and your house was right here, we figured you might know something.”
“I don’t know, Sheriff. I really have no fucking clue.” I smash my fist on the table, shaking the mugs so hard, coffee splashes outside the rim. “I don’t know how I got home. I don’tremember anything from last night until you were knocking on my door. Maybe someone brought me home? I don’t know. I’m the suspect, though, right? That’s the only answer. You’ll need my badge and gun, won’t you?”
“Not yet, but I need you to think, Lula. Please, what do you remember about last night?” Jake leans in, placing his hand on my arm, and I pull it away, not wanting his touch in the slightest.
For some reason, his touch isn’t the one I want. I crave the touch from last night, whatever it is, whatever it came from, I know that’s the touch that is meant to be mine.
“All I know is that someone was in the road. I don’t know who. I remember swerving to miss them and then nothing. I might have hit my head on the steering wheel.” I press my fingers against the spot on the side of my head. It’s sore, but there’s no cut. “After that, the next thing I remember is waking up to you knocking on my door.”
Jake writes everything I’m saying down in his notepad, the scribbling of the pen louder than usual. Every curve from the letters made with the ballpoint, every dot of the i’s and cross of the t’s, is like a loud, constant scratch echoing all around me.
“Could you identify this guy? From mugshots? Or give a description to the sketch artist?”
I hold the mug for warmth to bring comfort. “No. It was so dark, and it was raining. I’m sorry, Jake. I’ll do whatever you need me to, but I swear, I did not kill that poor man.”
“Eh, don’t feel too bad for the guy who died,” Zig says, sighing after taking a sip of coffee. “Él era un maldito pervertido.”
My eyes round in shock, nearly causing me to spit out my coffee. “What do you mean he was a pervert?”
“Our victim is a convicted sexual offender. I don’t know if that was the reason for his death. He won’t be missed by any means, but we still have to do our jobs.”
“Unfortunately,” Waylon grumbles.
“Regardless of how he will or won’t be missed”—Jake exhales in exasperation—“we still have a job to do. Someone died last night, and one of our officers was there, whether she can remember it or not. It’s important we figure out who was in the middle of the road. The facts are on our side. It’s clear the body wasn’t hit by your car. There’s no blood on the front bumper, nothing like that. You hit a tree, but the real question remains. Who was in the middle of the road, and was he the person who killed the victim? If he is, that’s dangerous. Any person who is ripping out spines doesn’t deserve to be on the street. This could lead to other killings if he is new to town. We have to stay vigilant.”
“Yes sir,” Waylon says.
“You got it, Boss,” Zig mirrors Waylon.
“Whatever you need from me, I’ll do the best I can, Sheriff.”
Jake nods, closes his notepad, and clicks his pen. “Just do your best to remember everything you can. The more details we have, the better.”
“I’ll think long and hard. I hope my memory will come back, and I can fill in some of those blanks.”
“Great.” Jake stands, and his deputies follow.
I don’t. I remain seated because if I stand, I think I’ll pass out from the shock of it all.
“I’ll keep you updated. Don’t leave town, Lula,” he warns.
I stare at him incredulously. “Seriously, Sheriff? Where am I going to go? Are you sure you don’t need my badge until the investigation is closed?”
He places his hat on his head. “No, Lula. I refuse for my only detective to get her badge revoked over something that wasn’t her fault.”