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Chapter 48 Eden
There’s a smile on my face as I wake up…until all the events of last night come rushing back to me like a tidal wave.
Lies, heartbreak, murder.
A shudder runs through me as I look at my hands. These hands have taken a life.
And yet, I can’t seem to find a lick of remorse. Not even so much as one tiny kernel of guilt. Maybe I do belong in prison after all.
I stretch my arms over my head and look toward the other side of the bed.
It’s empty. My heart protests the injustice.
I was hoping to have a little more time with Damien before I turn myself in.
I know Damien will talk me out of it and will most definitely try to stop me, but I don’t want to spend the rest of my life ru
I killed Cain Carter because he deserved to die.
That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.
I’ll take my chances with the legal system.
I grab a robe from the closet before I venture downstairs. I want to eat a hearty breakfast, take another shower, ask Damien if he knows any good lawyers, and head down to the precinct.
“Hey.” I smile at Geoffrey as I pass him on the staircase.
He doesn’t return it.
Probably because I’m freaking him out. Who the hell kills a man and then smiles the next morning like it’s no big deal?
Maybe I should put ‘contact therapist’ on my list of to-do things. Bile surges up my throat. Or not.
“Is Damien in his office?”
Geoffrey shakes his head.
“Exercise room?”
Another head shake.
“Kitchen?”
“No.”
And now we’re three for three. Something is definitely wrong.
“Geoffrey?”
“Yes?”
“Where’s Damien?”
He wrings his hands. “He was arrested about an hour ago.”
I stare at him for a few seconds, wondering if I misheard him. “Why in the world would they ar—” My hands fly to my face. I figured with Cain dead, Damien would be in the clear. “It’s polling day. Damien didn’t kill Cain’s family, Geoffrey. We have to do something.”
Now Geoffrey’s the one who looks confused. “I believe someone already did. Cain Carter’s home was nearly burned to the ground last night…while he was still in it.”
Blood rushes in my ears and I swallow hard. This can’t be happening.
I clutch my stomach. Damien didn’t have to cover it up.
The room sways and I grip the banister.
“Are you okay?”
I can’t let him go down for something he didn’t do. I won’t. I’m not Cain.
“I need a ride to the precinct.”
He frowns. “I’m afraid I can’t do that. I’m under strict orders to bring you to the airport in twenty minutes.”
Yeah, that’s not happening. Damien told me I could either be the lamb or the slaughterer.
Last night I was definitely the slaughterer…and I guess today I’m going to need to be one again. It seems to be the only way people take you seriously.
I grab Geoffrey’s collar. “Last night I killed a man in cold blood. Slit his throat and then plunged a knife straight into his heart. If you bring me to the fucking airport instead of the precinct so I can save Damien…I will not hesitate to do the same thing to you. Got it?”
He pales. “Yes, miss.”
“I need to see Chief Trejo,” I tell the officer at the front desk.
He raises an eyebrow before his eyes wander downward.
That’s right. Soak it all up.
I chose a black low cut, silk dress along with blood red heels, red lips, and red nails.
The glazed over look in the young officer’s eyes tells me I chose right.
“He’s…” He visibly swallows. “In a meeting.”
I lean over just enough to give him a peek of my cleavage. “Can you tell him it’s urgent?”
He nods so hard I think his head’s going to fall off. “Sure can.” He fumbles with the phone for a moment before he says, “What’s your name, miss?”
“Eden King.”
Trejo’s eyes light up like firecrackers when I walk into his office.
He better be in the mood to pull some strings, because I’m not leaving this precinct until I know Damien is free and clear.
If blackmailing him doesn’t work. I’ll seduce the bastard.
And if neither of those work, I’ll turn myself in. Either way, Damien is being released by the time I leave.
I point to the door. “Mind if I close this?”
He leans back in his chair, lacing his fingers across his gut, and gives me a skeevy smile. “Not at all.”
“Are there any video cameras in here?”
His eyebrows shoot up to his hairline. “Wh—”
I slap the manila folder on his desk. “Trust me, I’m asking for your benefit, Chief. Not mine.”
That gets his attention.
He sits upright. “It’s clear.”
He starts to open the folder, but I place my finger on top of it. “We’ll get to this in a minute. First, I’d like to know why you’re holding Damien King.”
I need to know exactly what evidence they have on him.
“That’s official police business.”
“You and I both know he didn’t do it. More than half the town can account for his whereabouts last night considering he was hosting the masquerade ball.”
“I only know what the evidence tells me,” he grits through his teeth. “So if you came here to hassle me for information, you’re wasting your time.”
I pick up the folder. “I actually came here to help you.” Shrugging, I open it and thumb through the photos. “On second thought, I think I should do the right thing and tell your wife instead.”
He bristles. “Tell my wife what?”
“Were you and my stepfather close?”
The pensive expression on his face tells me he’s not sure why I’m asking him that question.
“We were friends.”
“Really?” I slap the first picture on his desk. It’s the one of Cain blowing him. “It looks like you were a little bit more than that, Chief.”
His eyes widen and he starts coughing.
“You okay?” I walk over to his side of the desk and pat his back. “Would you like some water? Because it’s go
“What do you want?”
“I want to make a deal.” I stride over to the chair on the other side of his desk and take a seat. “You open to hearing my terms?”
“Do I really have a choice?”
“We always have a choice, Chief.” I cross my legs and smile. “Whether or not you make the right one is up to you.”
“Just tell me what you want, and I’ll see what I can do.”
“I need you to let Damien King go. He didn’t kill Cain.”
“The knife with his fingerprints on it say otherwise.”
Shit. I draw in a breath. I can’t let him see me sweat. I try a different tactic.
“The house was nearly burned to the ground, correct?”
“Correct.”
“Did you get the autopsy results back yet?”
“They’re pending…but…uh.” He rubs the back of his neck. “Let’s just say if you wanted your stepfather to be cremated…” His voice trails off.
That’s great news. “So, there’s not a lot of evidence.”
He shakes his head. “Apart from the bloody knife—no.”
“Good. So the only thing you have to do is get rid of the knife.”
He laughs. “I can’t dispose of police evidence.”
It’s my turn to laugh. “Right. Because I’m sure no officer has ever taken money or drugs from a bust before?”