Still Jaded by Tijan

CHAPTER THIRTY

I didn't think. I grabbed my purse and headed out.

"Where are you going?"

"I can't be here."

"You wanted the truth, Sheldon," Bryce called after me. "You can't leave like this. You're supposed to go with someone. It's not safe."

"I don't care." As I got outside, I stopped. My car was trashed—Corrigan. I had no idea where his car was. Bryce's car was there, but I didn't want to leave him stranded. Then I took a deep breath and looked at my garage. My father's car was still parked inside. He'd never come for it. I never wanted to use it, but I couldn't stay there and I needed to get away from Bryce. He was too much for me right now. I needed to breathe. So I went inside the garage and got inside the black sports car. When the engine purred to life, I knew why my father loved it so much. It was sleek and elegant. It was pure power.

It served my purpose.

I wasn't sure where I intended to go, but I found myself driving to the hospital. Bryce was right—it was stupid for me to be out alone, but I didn't care. A part of me wanted the stalker to try something. It'd be done. I could fight, yell, hurt back, but a part of me didn't feel that the stalker was going to try something. Or maybe I didn't even have one? The vandalism had been explained so that left the person who tried to break in and my messed with my car's brakes. They could've been done by two separate people…

It didn't matter that night. I walked through the waiting lounge and found it abandoned. The lights were low, giving the halls a vacant and eerie feeling. As I went past the nurses' desk, one lifted tired eyes to me from her paperwork, but then went back to it. She didn't care that I was there.

I was grateful.

When I walked to Corrigan's room, he looked like he'd been sleeping. A fan was propped in a corner, set on low to sound a soft buzz in the room. His windows had been opened and the street could be heard. Traffic whizzed by. Then I heard his head turn, and he asked in the dark, "Are you back with him?"

"You think that I would come in the middle of the night to tell you that I was with him?" I threw my purse in the chair.

"Yes. You'd do it because you'd feel guilty. You'd have to tell me right away. So are you?"

"No."

Relief flared in his eyes, but it was gone instantly. As I sat on the edge of his bed, he looked at me and the wall slammed down again. It was lined with cement bricks.

I murmured, "He told me everything. He told me his feelings. He told me that he talked to you and that you explained the kiss. He…"

"He?" There was a bite to his voice.

"He wants me to choose—"

"I'm not asking you to choose." His interruption was swift. "I told you before. Our friendship works."

Swallowing hard, I leaned forward. "I know. Bryce wants me to choose."

"Then he's a douche, and I'd say that to his face. You can't choose. You're not okay to choose right now."

"Thanks." I'm not okay? What did that mean?

"You know what I mean."

"No, I don't. Why don't you tell me how crazy I am?" My voice was hard.

"You're crazy. You know it. You've been with Bryce for how long? Your relationship with him was never good. It might've been semi-healthy for a few months, tops, but that was it. You two were never good together. Admit that. You wanted him to hook up with other girls half the time."

"What does that have to do with me choosing? From the sounds of it, there is no choice. He wants me. You don't. No choice!" I grimaced when I heard my voice start to rise.

"You need to be away from him for six months before you can make any choice. And don't get like that. No choice, my ass."

I glared at him. If anyone else,anyone, talked to me like that, they might not have woken up the next morning, but Corrigan could. Some days I asked myself why he had that power.

When I didn't respond, he flashed his teeth at me. He taunted me. "See? You know I'm right."

"I am not the complete imbecile that you think I am."

He snorted. "That's your only response?"

He saw it was and relaxed in bed. Lifting the remote, he started to flip through the channels. I sat back beside him and wondered where the exact moment things had started to change. If it had been before Marcus, because of Marcus, or sometime after Marcus? Then I looked over at Corrigan. The television's light illuminated his eyes. There was a seriousness there that'd always been inside of him, but he never let it out. It was on the surface now, and I knew it was because of me. He'd been the joker, the player, the never-take-me-seriously guy except when he was angry. Then he was the Corrigan that no one wanted to mess with. That Corrigan meant business, and he was ruthless in doing what he had to do.

"What?" he asked without looking at me. He flipped to another channel and looked bored.

I knew he wasn't.

I squeezed his free hand. "Everything will be okay. I'll make sure that everything's okay."

He squeezed back. "But it can't be, Sheldon. You know that."

"You don't want me to choose. We'll all be okay then—"

"You can't choose. Not yet. Bryce knows that." He looked at me.

I gulped from the intensity in his eyes.

He added, "He should've said his piece, but he should've walked away. I'm just thankful that you couldn't care less if he's famous or not. Any other girl and…never mind. Speaking of stars, what are you going to do about Denton? He's not going away either."

I rolled my eyes. "I like Denton, but come on."

"Denton respects you."

"He didn't before?"

"No. I think he always has, but he was more worried about his sister then. His sister ain't here anymore."

"I know, but he's not family. You are."

His eyes held mine. "So's Bryce."

I gulped and looked away. "I drove here without Bryce."

"What?" he snapped. "He let you? How'd you get here?"

"My dad's car. It's still in the garage."

"He shouldn't have let you. That was stupid, Sheldon. You're so stupid sometimes, and people just let you be stupid. Do youwantto get killed?"

"I didn't give him a choice. I ran out."

"You're still stupid. Don't do it anymore."

When I saw the emotion simmering in his eyes, I swallowed back my quick denial. If the situations were reversed, I'dwant the same thing. So I nodded. "Okay." Although I couldn't help but think that I'd given that fight up too soon, too easily.

"Thanks." He reached for my hand again.

With our hands intertwined, I sat back and watched television with him. My feet were still on the floor, but I shifted so my forehead was on his pillow, close to him. Corrigan reached up and brushed back some of my hair.

It wasn't long before my eyelids got heavy.

"Sheldon," he whispered.

"What?" I was so groggy.

"Come up here. You can sleep with me." He patted the side of his bed and scooted over.

I snuggled next to him. He tucked me closer and spooned me from behind. Just before I fell asleep, I remember thinking that this wasn't supposed to be how it was… And then I fell asleep.

The next thing I knew, I was blinking awake when a blinding light was switched on.

"Oh! I'm so sorry. Oh goodness. I'm sorry. Go back to sleep." A nurse rushed around the room and a second later the light was turned off.

Before I rolled over and fell back asleep, I glanced at my phone and saw it was blinking. When my hand reached for it, I felt exhaustion through every bone in my body. Then I snapped open the phone and saw the message was from Bryce.Cops called. Call them back. Immediately. Where are you?!

"Oh shit!" I jolted upright.

"What?" Corrigan sat up with me, disoriented. "What?"

I dialed Officer Patterson's number, and a second later she answered, "I'm coming to you. The hospital staff just called me."

"What's this about? What's happened?"

There was a pause. "I'm coming to you. Hold on." Then the line went dead.

"What is it? What's going on?"

He sounded still asleep, but I was wide awake. "Something's happened. Something bad."

Corrigan woke up fast. "What do you mean?"

"I don't know. It's not you or Bryce. That's all I care about." I sounded strong, but my insides were mush. I just knew that I didn't want to hear whatever Sheila had to say—it was bad. But I couldn't run, not anymore. "I'm going to go. I'm going to meet her out there."

"Why not here?"

"Because…" I didn't have a good answer. I shrugged. "Something tells me that she needs to say this to me in private."

When I reached the door, Corrigan stopped me. "Sheldon."

I looked back.

"Come back and tell me."

"I will."

Then I turned, squared my shoulders, and left for the waiting lounge. It wasn't long before Officer Sheila came through the sliding doors. Her ponytail looked haggard with strands falling out and a few framing her face. Her jeans were ripped and her jacket had blood on it. Her badge flashed bright from where she had pinned it on her belt loop.

No one else was in the lounge. Even the clerk had abandoned her desk.

"What is it?" I stood to meet her.

Regret flashed over her face before it was gone. She erased all of it. She spoke in her professional voice, "Where were you tonight?"

"When?" I swallowed hard. This was not good.

"From the time I saw you till now? Were you with someone?"

I frowned and narrowed my eyes. "I was with, I don't know. I talked with Carolina for a little bit. Then Bryce and I went back to my house until I drove here. I've been with Corrigan since. Why? What happened?"

She visibly relaxed. "You can be accounted for every minute?"

"Yes. Why?"

Her eyes darkened. "Because Grace Barton was found murdered tonight."

THE END

I would like to thank those that helped editing this project with me. You were very patient with me and so extremely helpful! So thanks to Miya, Amanda, andBeth! Tijan has six more books published through Amazon.com and for more information on Tijan or her other projects, please go towww.facebook.com/tijans.writings.

A sneak peek to the conclusion of the Jaded Series is below…

JADEN

CHAPTER ONE

The day they arrested me everything happened in slow motion. They came for me outside of my classroom. It was the last day I had Miss Connors as my professor and she had given me a hug. I stepped through the doorway and two plainclothes detectives were there. Another uniformed officer stood beside them, and then I saw the handcuffs. Their eyes were dead. They didn't care who I was, who I loved, or as I looked over my shoulder at an old mentor—who I disappointed.

Miss Connors had a hand to her mouth, but there wasn't shock in her eyes. That's what stopped me. She wasn't surprised. She had counseled me after Marcus tried to kill me and when I had killed him instead. She'd given me advice and listened to my smartass comments.

She broke through my wall. Not many did that.

When they recited my Miranda rights, my head was bent and I concentrated on breathing. Shallow breaths kept me going, but I knew the rest of my class had stopped to watch. I heard Carolina's voice in the distance, but it was faint. A buzzing sounded in my ear and I couldn't shake it away. Then they pushed me forward. The uniformed cop took hold of my elbow and I was led through the courtyard of the campus.

"Sheldon!"

I heard Corrigan's shout and my heart skipped for a moment. There wasn't disbelief in his voice. He still believed.

As they drove me to the station, I focused on each breath I took. One. Two. They were so shallow, but I kept going. My heart was racing and I frowned at my lap. I didn't want to have a heart attack. Could a twenty-year-old have one? I couldn't stop a sadistic laugh from breaking free as I thought about my life. If anyone would have one, it'd be me.

When I was brought through the station, I felt a burning in my stomach and I lifted my head. Officer Patterson was in front of her desk. Her dirty blonde hair was a mess, but when wasn't it? A cup of coffee was in her hand and I wondered if that was her twentieth. She drank too much coffee. I never cared before, but now I wondered if I should voice my concern.

I was taken to an interview room where my handcuffs were clasped through a peg in the table.

They thought I was going to run. They couldn't have thought I was dangerous.

Another burst of laughter threatened to bubble up. They did think I was dangerous. Who was I? Not a spy. I was a college student. I had two friends, well—Denton had promised only friendship. I had three friends.

They'd seen me through worse. This wouldn't be it.

I never killed anyone. Well…except for Marcus.

A file slammed on the table and I jumped from the sound. A burly man let out a low baritone chuckle, dressed in khaki pants and a blue button-up shirt. The shirt's ends had been loosened and pulled out from his pants. They were still wrinkled.

"She jumps." He sat across from me and threw a leg upon the table. He was the epitome of carefree.

I wanted to snarl at him. I wanted to frighten him back, but I didn't. He wanted that. Already I knew their game; it was what I'd do.

He flipped the file open and yawned.

My eye twitched. The ass yawned. This was my life and he yawned, but I closed my eyes and counted my breaths again. One. Two. Three—

"How'd you know Grace Barton?"

My arm jerked and I drew in a breath. He sounded bored. He asked about my friend and it sounded like he'd rather be taking a dump. He probably would.

"Hey. I'm talking to you." He leaned forward and snapped his fingers near my face.

I wanted to bite them off.

"Jeezus." He turned when the door opened. "She ain't talking."

A feminine voice spoke, "Yet."

She sounded arrogant.

I wanted to sink my teeth into both of them.

"She will." Laughter was evident in her voice as I heard another chair being scraped against the floor. It squeaked under her weight. I wondered if she threw her leg up as well. They would've been a pair.

Then she leaned forward and the amusement was dropped. "Your purse was found in her car."

My heart pounded in my ears again. It was starting to thump so hard, my chest grew painful.

Breathe, Sheldon. One. Two. Three.

"She poured two glasses of wine. We know it was someone she knew. There was no forced entry. She had a movie playing on the television." The woman detective drew in a deep breath and she gentled her tone, "Did you guys used to watch chick flicks together? It’s the latest vampire teen movie; you know the one that's so popular now. A goddamn apple's on the cover of it. You know the one."

I drew in a shuddering breath. Grace had loved that movie. I had loathed it the one time she got me to watch it. I left after thirty minutes, as soon as Bryce got home.

I felt a stab of regret. We'd been good friends then and I had ditched her. Sex with my boyfriend seemed like a better way to spend the afternoon.

So much had changed.

And I swallowed again. Grace was dead.

"A lot of people are scared of you, Sheldon."

The urge to snicker threw me off-balance. Why would I want to laugh at that? And then it clicked. Officer Patterson had told me one time,'Use their first name. It starts to establish a connection. When they want to pee their pants and you're offering the one bit of sympathy their way, they'll start blabbering like you're best friends. We use it in interrogation tactics.'

The woman detective had started to tap a pen against the table, but she stopped it now. And waited.

They would have to wait forever.

Then she sighed in disgust. "Come on, Sheldon! We're not the enemy. We just want to know what happened. We know you were there that night. We've got your purse—"

My purse had been left in the hospital room, next to Corrigan.

"—and there's some of your hair on the couch. We have your DNA. One of the wineglasses had a thumbprint too. You were there, Sheldon!" She smacked a hand on the table. "Tell us what happened."

"Molls."

"What?" she snapped at him. Then, a moment later, she started again in a calmer voice. "You guys were friends since high school, right? We have her confession on tape about what she did to you. That must've made you mad, huh? She was your friend. From what we've been told, you don't have a lot of friends, but that's because you intimidate people. Don't you, Sheldon? You scare them away before they can hurt you. Isn't that right? Or maybe I have it all wrong. You tell me."

My eyes were still glued shut, but I envisioned her. She said her piece, threw her arms in the air, and folded them behind her head as she leaned back. She was in control again.

Something died inside of me.

They sounded so sure of whatever their accusation was. I tried to remember what happened outside the classroom. What had they said when they put the handcuffs on? "Sheldon Jeneve, you are under arrest for the murder of Grace Barton…"

The rest faded from memory. It happened only twenty minutes ago.

"Look." The guy detective must've gotten bored. His tone was impatient.

He continued, "Let's cut the bullshit, okay? You and Grace were friends. We know that. You had a falling out. We know that too. Then the night she admitted that she was the one who pushed you into a glass table we found her dead. She died at her home; I bet you don't know that tidbit. She was there because we think she was scared of her sorority, the sorority that wanted you to pledge. They wanted you, you bartered for her, and then you backed out. They were stuck with her. Grace was trying to fit in with them. She was desperate for friends—"

"How do you know that?" My voice cracked.

He stopped for a second and then leaned forward. His voice was excited. "How do we know that she wanted friends? Or—"

"How do you know she was desperate?"

"She told us in her statement when she confessed about the hazing."

"Oh." And then I felt foolish. I knew that. I'd always known that.

"Witnesses told us that you had a confrontation with her. Your sorority was caught pranking hers?"

His partner added, "Denton Steele was a witness as well." She sighed, "I'd like to get his witness testimony."

He chuckled. "Yeah, right. I'm sure his lawyers will open their doors for us."

I held my breath as they fell silent. I knew what they were doing. I was in the vulnerable state. They attacked me and gave me an olive branch. I was supposed to jump on that. I was supposed to look up, eager, and tell them that I could call Denton. He'd give his account of that night. I was supposed to think he'd come in with support for me, but they'd use that to question him about my relationship with him.

Denton was a celebrity. We'd had sex, twice. One of those times was when I cheated on Bryce. Not a stellar reputation for me. They knew that, what they didn't know was that I wasn't stupid.

I knew how to play the game. I'd been doing it since I was a child.

People feared me, but it was because I spoke the truth and I went for the jugular. And I knew how to take anyone down; except for friends…well…I took Grace down that night. I lashed out at her and humiliated her in front of her sorority sisters. I had enjoyed it and had plans to do it again, but then she shook me. She apologized and seemed to mean it. Not many did that. It was always fake. People lied to cover their bases, but no one really changed.

That night, I thought Grace had changed.

Why would I want to harm someone for that?

They were wrong. It was a matter of time before they found the real killer. I had to believe that. I had to hope that, otherwise… I drew in another shuddering breath. What else could I hope in?

An awkward silence filled the room and I waited until the lady detective started to tap her pen again. It would happen—and it did.

Tap, tap.

It was more urgent this time. She was growing impatient. I could sense her anger. I hadn't fallen into their trap. I held my breath and waited again. What was the next move?

"Okay, fine." She shoved forward and I heard her voice grow in volume. She was closer to me now. "You're not stupid. We got it, but facts are facts. You were in Grace's house the night she was murdered. If you didn't do it, you saw who did. You know you were there. We have video footage from the street."

I looked up now and held her gaze. I didn't blink.

She stopped for a second. She had brown eyes with bags underneath them. Her mascara had been smudged. It looked like that had happened hours ago. And the tan complexion on her skin looked washed out. I asked in a quiet voice, "When'd you last sleep?"

She blinked.

"You look like you've been up for a couple days now."

A startled expression flashed over her, but she blinked again and shook it away. Her jaw hardened when she clipped out, "You want to psychoanalyze me? I've been up for 36 hours now because I've got a dead girl that shouldn't be dead. And you know what really pisses me off? I'm pretty sure the girl who killed her did it out of spite and because her daddy is rich enough to get her off. This girl has some high-powered friends, with lawyers that are already pounding our doors down. And I'm wondering which one of your rich boyfriends is paying their salary. So yeah, I've lost some sleep. Grace Barton was an innocent little girl who got caught up with the wrong, deadly, group. She was playing in a game with high stakes that she should've never been a part of and I feel bad for her. I feel bad that she ever considered you a friend."

She shot out of her chair and leaned across the table. Her face was against mine. Her breath was hot on my skin as she snapped, "So cut the bullshit and tell us what happened."

"I've got lawyers asking to see me?"

Her face twitched and her partner cursed under his breath.

"I want a lawyer." I said it so calmly, as if I always sat in that chair, on that side of the table, with my life held in question. I knew my eyes were flat. They always went flat when I was on the attack, but my insides were churning.

Someone killed Grace and they thought it was me.

Everything happened after that in a blur. They shot out of there with stiff shoulders and anger in their eyes. Three lawyers entered after that and I learned that Denton had sent them.They never questioned me, but they did instruct me. I wasn't supposed to say a word. I would be taken into holding and would have to wait until bail was set.

The lawyers told me that my mother was there, at the police station. She wanted to see me, but I shook my head. I had no desire to deal with her. I hadn't for the last four years, so why start now? The two, now three, people that I did want to see were advised against coming in. Their names needed to be kept out of the media frenzy.

My head popped up when they said that and a lawyer told me, as if he were speaking to a child that paparazzi were already outside. Grace Barton's death was linked back to Marcus's, and since Bryce was connected, along with Denton, the news would spread all over the country. A Hollywood celebrity and soccer's newest star, both in love with the same girl—I cringed when I heard that. It was gold for the tabloids.

Everyone would know my name.

That was when I stopped listening. I didn't want anyone to know.

Denton had been my neighbor growing up. Our parents had been best friends before all the divorces. I had tried to take his sister under my wing even. And Bryce—he'd been my childhood sweetheart since seventh grade. He'd been my first love, even when I hadn't been able to deal with those emotions or what they meant.

I let out a sigh.

Corrigan's shout ripped through me. I never looked at him. I didn't dare. I would've bolted for him and he would've fought for me. And then what would've happened? We would've bothbeen in police custody. But then again, a small chuckle slipped out, it would've been like the old days. Except Corrigan was the one that always seemed to be calling us from the police station, and Bryce and I would come down to post his bail.

The humor left me then. It was me this time, but I wasn't in for a high school prank.

I was led through booking where I was fingerprinted and my picture taken. Then I was told to wait in an overcrowded cell. I wanted to wake up. I wanted all this to be a dream, a nightmare, but it wasn't. So I found a corner in the back and sat down against the cold wall. I shivered, but refrained from hugging myself.

A few girls were already sizing me up.

I wasn't weak. I wasn't about to start acting it now.

Then I lifted my chin up and stared back. Everything in me was numb now.

I was being charged with Grace's murder. What worse could happen?