I am left alone in shock once again. Still amazed that I’m so intertwined with this world of powerful and ruthless men. It’s too much to take in. All I can do for now is prepare myself to give a statement, putting myself that much closer to freedom at last. It will all be over soon.
24
Chapter Twenty-Four
I follow behind Emmett to face the sirens wailing outside of the manor. Bernadette is still hunkered over his body, crying in mourning. It’s a relief to see her feel something, even if Emmett would argue it’s misplaced. The room goes dark as the sun’s rays disappear from the windows behind cloud cover.
The police don’t waste any time explaining they’ll need to take us into the station to give our statements. I don’t feel too nervous about it, knowing our story will be backed up with whatever contact my father has in their department. Plus, I have Emmett on my side for this one. They assure us it won’t take long.
The police escort us from the manor as the sun starts to go down. On our way to the station, a thick fog falls over everything and I can hear thunder rumbling in the distance.
The wind howls around us as we approach the front of the building. Buzzing doors and jingling keys echo out through the sparse waiting room of the station as we are both led through long winding back halls of officers speaking to each other in hushed tones, tucked away into different corners.
We are, of course, separated. I’m taken into an interview room that is gray and plain with one small table scattered with pens and notepads. I note the handcuff rings implanted in the surface, wringing my wrists that still ache from my own time in cuffs.
My stomach is uneasy as I rub my arms, nervously giving my statement to the police. I stick to the story made up about ditching school and coming back to this house to hook up. That’s where we claimed to have found his body dead on the ground. Anyone can see plain as day that he was shot directly in the forehead from the direction of the front door, but my father will make good on his promise. He has contacts who will still by some miracle get this written off as a suicide.
Even though I don’t give two shits about whether it’s coined as suicide or murder, I must admit there is something satisfying about my own father having his sway over this town. Maybe for his sake some of that will be restored with Thomas Jameson out of the way. But I still have every intention of staying as far away from him as possible.
“So, you and Emmett Jameson returned to his residence around four o’clock in the afternoon. Is that right?” The officer asks me again after he’s collected my statement and asked me to repeat it.
“That’s right,” I say as confidently as possible.
The officer scribbles a few more notes, scratching his head, and then whispers a few things to his partner. “Thank you, Miss Lopez,” he states, dropping his pen to the pad of paper. “We won’t be too much longer here.”
I try to hide a sigh of relief that they’re buying everything. Either that or they’ve already been bribed and aren’t even going to bother with a real interrogation. I’ve been warned countless times that the cops around here can’t be trusted.
“You haven’t been attending Weis-Jameson Preparatory Academy long, have you, Miss Lopez?” he stands to pace the room, changing his tone.
“Just started this semester,” I reply glumly, feeling weighed down by everything that’s happened in such a short amount of time. “I’m attending on a track scholarship.”
He nods, biting at his lip. “And you live with your mom and dad?”
“My mom and step-dad, Brendan. Why?” I am starting to grow nervous with how personal the questions are becoming. What does any of that have to do with Thomas Jameson’s supposed suicide?
“What about your biological father...” he proposes timidly. “Do you know him?”
“No.” I blurt too curtly, causing his brow to furrow suspiciously.
The room is suddenly cold. My heart starts to race. No one told me I should be prepared for questions about Theo. I don’t know whether to deny everything, or if they already know he’s been poking around in the Elite’s business recently. What if I incriminate myself by lying about something they already know?
“You don’t know him at all?” he asks again, his tone peaked.
“No, not at all,” I confirm nervously. As long as he keeps phrasing it that way, I’m fine. Because I can honestly say I don’t know my father. But if he gets any more specific…I’m going to freeze up.
“You seem nervous,” he observes, towering above me with his hands rested on the table. “Does it make you uncomfortable to talk about your father?”
“I just don’t know him. Like I said.” I bite my lip and stare to my hands, falling into a snowball effect. The more I know I look and sound nervous, the more nervous I get.
He concedes with huff of breath, taking a seat once again. “Miss Lopez, I don’t want to be the one to have to tell you some of these things,” he continues gently, “or maybe you already know some of them and just don’t want to say… That’s fine
too. I understand. But…your father is a pretty dangerous man.”
“How so?” I try to plea ignorantly, the image of him shooting Thomas fresh on my mind. But that’s the last thing I need to be thinking about right now.
“He’s been investigated by the FBI for quite a few hefty crimes,” his fingers clasp and open as he speaks. “Insider trading. Money laundering. Extortion. Blackmail. The list goes on and on.”
“Oh, I had no idea,” I mutter truthfully. I thought my father’s only crime was his relentless pursuit of the Elites, and whatever gambling trouble he had from before. I guess I should have figured there was more to it than that.