“Take 'em both,” Officer Richter tells the other cops.
I stare at Arianna’s back, watching as they cuff her.
“Don’t touch her!” I scream out so loud my throat hurts. “She didn’t do it!” I shout at them.
“If I were you, I’d wait for your lawyer,” Officer Richter tells me as one of the cops ushers her away. My heart is beating so loud; the sound is deafening.
“Arianna!” I scream for her as I’m heaved off the floor and shoved against the wall as I try to run to her. “Stop!” I scream out. My face is shoved against the wall, and the harsh crack bruises my cheekbone.
“She didn’t do it,” I breathe out the words. “Leave her alone!” The sounds of them walking her out of the house mixes with the blood rushing in my ears. “Arianna!” I scream again, but she doesn’t answer me, instead I’m left with silence. Only the two officers and myself remain, alone in my foyer.
“She confessed to a murder, we have to take her in,” Officer Lawson says close to my ear. His breathing is ragged from dragging me up and keeping me still against the wall.
“I’ll repeat what I said, Mr. Payne.” Officer Richter comes into view. His tall frame hovers over me as he tells me, “You should wait for your lawyer.”
“She didn’t do it.” I look him in the eyes, letting him feel my conviction and the truth in my words. She never should have said anything. What was she thinking? My heart twists with a pain that’s indescribable.
“She’s hurt,” I tell them as the man behind me spreads my legs. “She’s-”
“She’ll be alright, Mr. Payne.”
“She didn’t do it,” I tell him again. I plead with him to let her go, she can’t take the fall for this. I won’t let her. “She’s not feeling well, and she-”
“It doesn’t matter. You need to let the law handle this.”
The fight that’s been absent since I brought my sweetheart home comes back. I won’t fight for myself. I’ll take the punishment I deserve. But I won’t let them touch her. She’s innocent. She’s always been innocent.
I look him square in the eyes as I tell him, “I need to call my lawyer.”
Chapter 32
Arianna
I rest my head on the interrogation table, letting out a heavy exhale. I won’t tell them anything. I don’t care what they say. Or what they do. I refuse to talk. The table is so cold. It makes me want to sleep. I’m so tired. So exhausted. Anxiety twists my stomach as my heart pounds. I assumed they would lock me up right away, toss me in a cell, and throw away the key. But instead I’ve been left in a room. I don’t know how much time has passed. There isn’t a clock in here. Nothing. I’m just alone.
I resist the urge to look behind me. I know they’re on the other side of that one-way mirror, looking in. Watching me. I told them I shot him. I don’t know how many times. When they asked me why, the answer was easy. But then they asked questions I couldn’t answer. Where I got the gun. Why a man’s shoe prints were found at the scene. I went silent. I won’t say anything that can implicate him in murder. I’m trapped and alone. I turn my head to the other side, letting the chill calm my heated skin.
All for Zander.
I lift my head, sitting back in the metal chair as I remember the look in his eyes when he laid me on the bed. It touched me in ways I couldn’t imagine. Made me feel like I was the most precious thing. Like I was his.
A tear threatens to fall down my cheek, but I fight it back. I can’t break down. Not here. Not now.
There’s no way I can let Zander take the fall for me. Danny is dead because of me. He killed him to save me. I’m not going to let Zander pay for my mistake. Just the thought of him going to prison for the rest of his life fills me with so much guilt and shame.
No matter what they do or say, I can’t let them break me. I pick at my nails, wishing for some miracle. Hoping that telling them what he did to me is enough. It should be. Shouldn’t it?
I keep my neck stiff, staring straight ahead when the door to the interrogation room opens and booted feet smack across this floor. I even keep my head down as the two hardened detectives sit down at the table across from me.
“Are you ready to speak with us, Miss Owens?” Detective Richter asks harshly, a thirty-something tall man with a chiseled jawline and a receding hairline, his deep voice filling the small hollow room like a bass. Out of the side of my eye, I can see him staring at me with an irritated scowl, his muscular arms folded across his chest. Dressed in a plain white dress shirt and blue jeans, he’s not wearing a badge, his gun holstered at his waist.
“I already told you I did it.”
The two men share a glance before Detective Richter replies, “You need to give us more than that.”
I don’t say a word.
“You don’t have to be afraid to speak,” his partner, Detective Lawson, says more gently, resting his elbows on the table and leaning forward with his hands clasped. He seems the more levelheaded of the two, with short dark hair, broad shoulders and a large nose. Unlike Detective Richter, he has a badge, a large golden ornament, proudly on display on his right breast. He doesn’t have a gun. “You’re away from prying ears now and can speak freely.” He waits for a moment to see if I’ll respond before saying, “We promise you, we’re just trying to do our best to help you.”
I nearly snort out a laugh at the bullshit. Though I’m not well-versed in law or cop tactics, I at least know that they are not my friends and they are not trying to help. I would be a fool to trust them.
I keep my head down, clenching my jaw. If they’re expecting they’ll get me to talk, they’ll be waiting a damn long time. I’m not saying shit other than what I’ve already told them.
The sound of the clock ticking on the wall fills the silence. Tick tock, tick tock.
“Look up when Detective Lawson is speaking to you,” Detective Richter says irritably, suddenly.
Go fuck yourself, I want to growl, but don’t.
I know Detective Richter is only doing his job, but he has no idea what I’ve been through. And if he thinks being firm with me will get him what he wants then he’s sadly mistaken.
“Don’t make this hard on yourself. We all know you’re lying.”
I freeze, wondering if they really do. I almost part my lips to say, “How?” but then remember the tactics the cops use. No matter what they say to me, I need to stay quiet. It’s better that way. I’ll be quiet, I’ll get a lawyer. They can blame me for killing him when they see what he did to me. I’ll claim self-defense, or maybe insanity. I pick at my nails, the fear and anxiety weighing heavily against my heart.
“Do you honestly expect us to believe a woman like you killed Danny Brooks when he had so many enemies?” Detective Richter demands.
I remain silent.
Detective Richter snorts when he sees I don’t react. “Or let me put it better for you; do you honestly expect us to believe that a woman in your condition, a woman who’d just been beaten within the inch of her life, was in any position to kill her lover?”