Still Jaded (Jaded #2)(85)

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 both been 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?