Page 74 of Embers of You
Peters drags me from the back of the car, but I don’t make it easy for him, which pisses him off. When he finally gets me out of the car, I refuse to walk, so he resorts to clutching hold of a large chunk of hair, wrapped tightly around his hand, and dragging me.
At the steps to the office, I consider planting my feet on the bottom step and digging in, but as I don’t have the use of my hands, I don’t fancy face planting the metal steps. I need to pick my battles at this point.
I stumble up the steps, the crown of my head beginning to burn with the tight hold he has on my hair. Inside, Peters yanks me forward, further into the room and tosses me to the floor. My knees burn on the rough, trod-worn carpet. I keep any sound of pain from escaping and giving him the satisfaction.
“Hello, Kennedy. Nice of you to join us,” comes a deep voice above me, accompanied by a feminine giggle.
Remaining on my knees, despite the burn, I look up into the face of Calvin Carmichael. Glued to his side is Aria Thomas.
“Fuck you!” I spit out, knowing it will probably cost me but not really caring. A split second before the hit comes, I notice another person in the room. Stu is tied to a chair to the left of me and head slumped to his chest.
Thwack!
The strike lands on the left side on my face, whipping my head to the side and leaving my teeth rattling and cheek burning. Aria giggles again, and the noise sets my teeth on edge on the same level as nails on a chalkboard.
Turning my head and raising it back to look him in the eye, I feel a trickle of something wet and warm slide down my face from just below my eye. Taking Calvin in, I see he’s twirling a large ring on his finger, which is no doubt what caused the cut on my face.
“It seems that the death of your father and brother weren’t enough of a lesson for you to mind your own business. You’ve forced my hand.”
“I’ve forced your hand?” I laugh at the absurdity of his words. “It doesn’t matter what you do to me. With the evidence I’ve got, you’ll all be rotting in a prison cell before my body is even cold. Including your little pet here,” I say, nodding in the direction of Aria. “Does daddy dear know you’re fucking his best friend? I’m guessing he does since I sent him a nice little surprise earlier.”
My words set of a chain of events I didn’t see coming at all.
ChapterThirty-One
The look on Kenzie’s face as I’m arrested will be one that will stay with me forever. It’s a look I’ll do everything in my power to never see on her face again.
However, the look on Deputy Peters’ face when the cops carrying out the search of my house and car and come out empty handed is absolutely priceless.
The minute Owen’s body washed up on the shore last night, I knew he was going to frame me. The last attempt failed miserably thanks to a little bit of luck in that I got called into work the night of the break in for a meeting, therefore giving me a solid alibi.
As soon as Kenz was asleep, or so I thought, I set to work searching my house and car, knowing that son of a bitch wouldn’t leave anything to chance this time. And I was right when I discovered a gun, which had recently been fired given the smell of gunpowder still present on it, stashed under the seat of my car. My own gun. He’d obviously taken it at some point, used it to kill Owen and then returned it.
I called Tripp, who very kindly took the gun and made sure it made its way to Peters’ house where it’s now awaiting discovery.
It soon became apparent that even though I had a solid alibi for the night of Owen’s death, Kenz wasn’t ever going to get the chance to verify it if Peters has his way.
After keeping me in my cell for a couple of hours, Peters finally pulled me out to interview me. I point blank refused to answer any questions, and for each one he asked, I simply repeated my request for a lawyer. I watched as he slowly grew angrier and angrier until he eventually conceded.
The fury only increased when I gave him the name of my supposed lawyer, Dominic Wilder, who he knew full well wasn’t a damn lawyer.
You can bet your ass that if Dom and Luke know about Carmichael and Titan, then Peters would know who they are too.
I’m placed back in my cell once I’ve made my call, and here I wait for Dom to come through.
Another hour or so passes before my cell door is opened revealing Dom, looking the part in a sharp suit and briefcase in hand. Dom might not have passed the Bar exam, but he did do half of his law degree before dropping out, so not a complete novice and exactly, among other things, why I called him.
Half hour after speaking with Dom, I’m brought back to the interview room for round two.
For every question he asks me this time, my response is no comment. Dom and I are happy to sit and listen as he tries desperately to catch me out while giving away details about Owen’s death and what evidence, or lack thereof, they have on me.
After thirty minutes and clearly establishing that the only evidence they have is circumstantial, Dom’s had enough.
“Deputy Peters, unless you have anything more concrete implicating my client’s involvement in the death of Mr. Taylor or you’re charging him, then you have no reason to hold Mr. King any further.” He gets to his feet, tapping me on the shoulder to do the same.
Peters’ nostrils flare at the realization he can’t keep me here any longer without raising a red flag. He shoves up from his chair and orders the deputy who has been sitting in on the interview to process my release, then he storms from the room.
He might not have been able to keep me there any longer, but he manages to ensure my release takes almost an hour to process.