Misguided Truths: Part One (9 page)

“That’s not mine! I swear! I don’t—”

“What’s going on?” I freeze when I see Rachael walking through the front door. “Brandon?” She pauses after taking a step inside, and glances around before her eyes land on the female cop who’s now beside her. She says something to Rach, and when she looks back over at me, I notice her eyes beginning to fill with tears.

“I didn’t do it, Rach. I promise. I swear it’s not mine! I didn’t do anything!” The cop behind me grabs my left arm and starts pulling me outside. “Rach, please?” I plead with her. She doesn’t say anything. Not a single word. Her lips are formed in a tight line, but the look over her face now is completely blank. “Rach, you know how much I loved her. How much I still love her. I would never have hurt her!”

She looks away from me and down to the ground. My stomach rolls and my chest becomes tight when I realize.

She doesn’t believe me.

The look over Rachael’s face when the cops dragged me out from my house hasn’t left my mind once all the way over here. She couldn’t even look at me. There’s gotta be some mistake. I mean, how in the hell did they manage to find drugs in my room?

Never. Not
once in my whole life have I even been tempted to touch drugs, let alone take them. Right up until they showed up at my house, around an hour ago, they’ve been saying that they weren’t treating Holly’s death as suspicious. That she was a user, but I know she wasn’t. I know … I
knew
her. As for the drugs being in my room? Well, your guess is as good as mine.

“Mr. Taylor, we’ll get you booked in and then escort you through to the interview room.”
A different male cop tells me as he unfastens the cuffs. I rub my wrists and see red marks from where they’ve been cutting into my skin ever since they were locked on back at the house. He walks around until he’s standing in front of me, and I watch as he begins to pat me down. “Is there anything you’d like to admit to having in your possession before I proceed?”

Apart from my ten inch penis? Yeah, maybe that won’t go down so well right now.
I shake my head and glance to the side, “How long is this gonna take?” I ask when my eyes land on the wall clock behind the main desk. It’s almost nine thirty already and it takes around an hour to get from here and over to Seattle.

“
Let’s just put it this way. If you co-operate, then it will take a lot less time than if you choose not to.”

“
You didn’t answer my question,” I grind out through my teeth when I see a look of amusement crossing over his face. “I need to be in Seattle by eleven.”

He shakes his h
ead as his hands reach my waist, “Son? You haven’t a hope in hell of being anywhere but here for the next few hours,
at least
.”

“No. No. You don’t understand… I
need
to be there. Not being there is not an option for me.” He ignores my protests and continues his search. I look down when I feel him pause his hands before standing back up on his feet.

“Do you normally carry women’s jewelry around in your pants pockets?”

My eyes land on the locket he’s holding in front of me, and it feels like my heart just stopped. “It’s my girlfriends,” I answer quietly.

“Does your girlfriend not
mind you taking her jewelry?” he looks and sounds amused.

“My girlfriend’s dead,
” I spit at him and see the amusement immediately fading from his eyes. “That’s why I need to be in Seattle … It’s her … it’s her funeral today.”

He studies me for a couple of seconds before a s
mile appears wide over his face, “That’s one hell of an excuse, son. Usually we get told all kinds of crazy shit. Mainly they need to get home to feed their dog or something. Dead girlfriend? Wow. You must be really desperate if you think that’s gonna work in here.”

If I thought I’d get away with it, I’d have that jackass punk on the floor and beat the shit outta him for what he just said.

He turns around and I see him placing the silver locket in a clear bag, “Hey! Hey, what are you doin’ with that?” I step forward and notice the security guards on either side of the desk stepping forward. “You … no. No, I need it for—”

“All personal possessions nee
d to be bagged and locked securely away until you sign the papers for their release on your way out of the building. And, son? The chances of that being any time soon are extremely slim. So, I need you to step forward and sign this form so we can take your fingerprints and police photograph before you’re taken in for questioning.”

“But you don’t understand. You’re not listening to me. I need to take it to her… I can’t miss her funeral. I need to say goodbye. Please? Please. I need to say goodbye to her!”
What is he not understanding here?

“You won’t be
saying goodbye to nobody today,” he ushers me forward and pushes a pen in my hand.

“
I need my friend to come by and get that necklace. Please? When do I get to make my call?” I ask the woman who’s sitting behind the desk with desperation. She looks up from her computer and over to a police officer who looks as though has just come on duty.

“Give me a second,” s
he throws me a small, solemn smile and walks towards the female officer. I glance around, and after a few minutes of tapping my fingers impatiently on the desk, she walks back over to me with the female cop following closely behind her, while gesturing towards the phone.

I swallow while my mind races on who I should call. I get one call.
One
. I need at least five.

“Hello?”

“Neil … Neil it’s me.”

***

“How many more times?” As I stand, the chair I was just sitting on falls backwards and hits the ground, but I don’t let it phase me. “It’s not mine!” I rake both of my hands through my hair. I’ve never felt this frustrated before in my whole life. I start pacing back and forth in front of the desk and try to calm my breaths.

“Then how do you propose the heroine made its way into your bedroom, Mr. Taylor?”

I swear, if he calls me Mr. Taylor one more fucking time … “I’ve already told you,” I close my eyes and take another couple of deep breaths. When I reopen them, both of the detectives are staring directly at me. The guy with narrowed eyes, and the woman? Well, she’s just looking at me. “I’ve never seen it before it my life. I don’t do drugs. I don’t deal drugs. It’s. Not. Mine.” I say angrily say through my gritted teeth, and notice the female detective writing a few things down on her notepad. The male sits lazily back in his seat and crosses his hands behind his head, still staring right at me.

A knock on the door interrupts the little stare off we had going on, and once he clears his throat, he stands and heads over to open it up. He talks with someone who’s standing on the other side for a couple of moments, before loo
king back over to the two of us, “I’ll be back.” And with that, he leaves the room.
Yes, I don’t doubt that, Arnie
.

I don’t know how long I’ve
been in here answering their questions though it’s obvious they don’t believe anything I’m telling them anyway. They know things. Things they shouldn’t know. They asked about mine and Holly’s relationship. They knew things were rough over the last week before she … before it happened. How? How did they know this and why is any of that relevant to their investigation?

Shaking my head,
I begin pacing the floor again, “Brandon?” I hear the one remaining cop speak. “Is it okay if I call you Brandon?”

“Is this the part where you pretend to be my friend, just so you can try and trick me into a confession?” I glare over at her. “Because if it is, then it’s not g
onna work. I didn’t do what you’re accusing me of. I didn’t do anything. I loved … I
love
my girlfriend.”

She smiles a sad smile at me
, and nods before averting her eyes away and back to her notebook, “I can see that. I was just wondering why you used your one and only phone call to contact your friend. Usually, especially people around the same age, call their parents, or a lawyer. The evidence they have against you is—”

“There is no evidence
because I didn’t do anything!” How many more times are we gonna go through this before they realize their mistake? I breathe out a sigh and walk back over to the table. While picking the chair back up, my eyes land on the clock that’s hanging on the wall behind where I was sitting.

I glare at the second hand and watch as it hits the number twelve.

It’s eleven o’clock.

I slump down i
nto my seat and rest my elbows on my knees, my head hanging low. Staring at the floor, it finally hits me. “I’m not gonna get to say goodbye to her.” My voice cracks when I speak.

“Would you like some water?” I ignore her attempts of playing the good cop.
“Brandon. Why didn’t you call your parents?”

“Because they don’t give a damn about me, th
at’s why. Besides, I needed my friend to stop by and grab something for me. That was more important than letting my parents know about all of this. It’s not like they’re gonna care whether I go back home or not, anyways.”

Silence fills the room and I begin to wonder wheth
er she’s still in here, but when I look up, I see her watching me and throwing a small, sympathetic smile my way, “I’m sure they do care, Brandon. I’d certainly want to know if my daughter was arrested.”

“You’ve got a daughter
?” I lift my head and see her leaning forward in her seat.

“
She’s only a couple of years younger than you,” she smiles and I lean back in my seat. It’s refreshing to hear one of the cops actually sounding like a human being. One that has feelings. Maybe I was a little hard on her earlier.

“I
’m guessing you’d be pretty pissed if she did call, what with you being a cop and all.”

She laug
hs and drops her pen down on the notebook, “She’d be grounded for life. Though, I don’t think I’ve got anything to worry about in that respect.”

I glance over to
the door when the ass-hat cop walks back inside, with a taller guy following closely behind him this time. Slamming his file down on the desk, I see him staring right at me again. “Detective Harper, we’ve just received the results back from the lab,” his voice is stern, and though he wasn’t talking to me directly, his eyes are narrowing in my direction. Good. Well at least now they’ll know that I had nothing to do with any of this. “Brandon James Taylor, you are being charged with being in the possession of illegal narcotics and for involuntary manslaughter.”

My eyes dart over to the female cop and I see she’s closed her eyes and
has started to shake her head, “What?” I immediately stand when the tall guy grabs my arm, pulling me up from my seat to stand before turning me around. “How is this—?”

“The heroin found in your bedroom has been confirmed to have been from the same batch that took the life of Holly Louise Grainger. You supplied the deceased with a lethal dose of heroine, for which led to her untimely death …”

No. No,
this can’t be happening. I’m watching the cop and can see his mouth moving, but that’s all it’s doing. I don’t hear a sound other than the buzzing noise ringing in my ears. My head’s beginning to spin, my mouth goes dry, and I start sweating, my vision becoming blurred.

I feel someone grabbing
my other arm, and the next thing I know, I’m being led out of the room and down a corridor, with my hands behind my back and someone pushing me forward from behind.

I think I need that lawyer now.

I’ve had a couple of days to try and process everything. Some things have become clearer, where others have completely fucked up my mind a whole lot more. One thing I know for sure is that I’ve been framed. The cops assumed Holly was a user, and at one extremely low point just lately, they even made me question if she had been. But then how and why the fuck were drugs from the same batch found in my room? That was all I needed to confirm it. Holly wasn’t a user, and I’ve been set up to take the wrap for what someone else did.

While my lawyer taps his pen repeatedly on the table in front of us, I rub my eyes and slouch back in my seat.

At nine this morning, he summoned me to meet with him so we can talk through everything before the trial, “So, are we gonna get on with this? Cos, I’ve kinda got a busy schedule these days.”

He peers up at me through his glasses before continuing
to write something down, “You need to curb your attitude. She shouldn’t be too much longer.”

“Who won’t be much longer?” I had no idea we were expecting anyone else. “Oh, geez. Did you go ahead and hire me a stripper?” I don’t like the guy one bit. Right when he was assigned to represent me, he told me I should suck it up and plead guilty. Yeah. Anything for an easy life for him, huh?

The sound of the metal door opening echoes around the small room we’re sitting in, and I have to admit, I’m shocked by who I see walking inside.

“Brandon,
” she nods with a tight smile while pulling up a seat. “How are you?”

“Just peachy,
” My lawyer rolls his eyes when I answer her, but I see a sparkle in the female cop’s eyes. At least she gets me. “And for what do I owe the pleasure?” I cock my head to the side and flash her a sarcastic smile.

Her eyes dart between me and my lawyer a couple of times, and she rests her elbow
s on the table while leaning closer, “A few things aren’t adding up,” she speaks quieter and her face has turned more serious. “I wanted to ask you a few further questions.”

Well, that got my attention. I sit forward
and study her for a second, “I thought the case was closed?”

“It is.”

“Then why are you here?”

“Because I believe you, Brandon. I was pulled from the case right after they charged you, but … something doesn’t
feel right,” she shakes her head and looks deep in thought as she grabs a file from out of her briefcase.

I narrow my eyes on her, “Nobody else believes me. W
hat makes you so different?”

She thinks hard and t
hen looks directly into my eyes, “I’d like to think that I’m a very good judge of character, Brandon. And, what I see when I look at you is your pain. Your sadness. Your innocence. Your eyes alone tell me your story.”

“My eyes?”
I look away and start tapping my foot uncontrollably. “Oh, yeah? Then what am I thinking right now?” I sit forward and challenge her.

“Can we just get on with this, please? I do have a lunch date w
ith my wife to get to at midday.” My lawyer who’s sitting to the left of me interrupts with a bored sounding tone to his voice. “How is this going to help Mr. Taylor? And, even better still, my sanity?”

“Tell me what happened in the run up to that fateful night. One of the witnesses informed us that you and the deceased were having a rough time?”

I close my eyes and swallow, hard, “Can you please call her Holly?” Deceased. Like this isn’t hard enough to deal with already. She smiles sadly and nods, her eyes attentive.

“We had an argument. No, it wasn’t an argument
. She got upset because we couldn’t spend our anniversary together.” If I’d have known then what I do now then I would’ve spent every goddamn second that I had left with her.

I watch the detective flicking
through her notes and see her glance over at me a couple of times, “When was this?”

“It was on the Saturday.”

“And, when did you work things out? You must have made amends for her to have been with you on the Friday.” She rests her forearms on the table as she asks.

I
nod and lean back. This is hard, “The night before we came to Seattle. I stopped by her place so we could talk.” My vision goes hazy when I think back to that night. It was the night we declared our love for one another.

“Did you notice anything unusual with her behavior? Did she seem different to you? Act different?”

“She wasn’t high on drugs if that’s what your insinuating,” I grind out, and feel anger beginning to flare up within me again.

She takes her focus away from me an
d reads something from the file, “Her sister, Rachael. She told us that you went to their home, looking for Holly after your disagreement. Is that correct?”

“Yes.”

“But she wasn’t at home,” she leans back in her seat, now studying me. “She was out of the house all night, which her sister said was out of character for Holly. Do you have any idea where she was or who she was with?”

“
I left her at around four that afternoon for rehearsals. She messaged to say she was headed to the movies with a couple of buddies of mine. I called her, I messaged her. And, apart from that one, telling me about her plans, I didn’t hear a damn thing until I saw her on the Thursday.”

“Ryan McGregor and Neil Kelly?” I nod my answer when she asks. “Did you try getting hold of them when you couldn’t get in touch with Holly?”

“Yeah. Rye said he
’d left the theatre just before the movie finished because he got a call from Claire, the girl he’s kinda seeing. Neil messaged me back at about two in the morning and said that Holly had made her way over to a friend’s place for the night right after the credits rolled up.”

“Which friend?”

Shit.
I didn’t even think to ask, “What’s with all the questions about the Saturday? Shouldn’t you be focusing on what happened to her, instead of prying into our relationship?” Is she trying to make me feel even guiltier in the fact that I managed to fuck things up? Does she not realize that I regret every fucking day that I didn’t get to spend with her?

She rests her pen on the table and g
ives me a small smile, “I’m just trying to understand a few of the events leading up to that day, that’s all.”

She’s lying,
“You know something, don’t you?”

“
I’m not going to lie to you, Brandon. As of yet, no, No I don’t. But, there are a few discrepancies within one of the witness statements that I’d like to look a little deeper into.”

What the fuck? I stand right up and rest my hands on the table, leaning in towards her as my heart begins to bea
t harder and faster in my chest, “What? Who? You gotta tell me. Do I know them? What discrepancies?”

A look of sympathy crosses over her whole face and she looks away from the gaze I
’m holding on her, “Until I can collate evidence, I’m afraid I’m unable to say.”

“Dammit!” I
growl out with frustration and throw my arms up in the air, inhaling a few deep breaths while pacing the floor of the room.

“
I know how frustrating all of this is for you, Brandon. Really, I do. But, until I have solid evidence for the courts, I can’t divulge any further,” I glance over my shoulder and see her standing up while collecting her papers. “I’ll be in touch soon.” She walks over to the door and smiles a tight lipped smile at me.

Sighing, I try my hardest t
o smile back and walk back over, “Look, I’m sorry… I’m just going out of my fucking mind here, y’know?” Resting my hands on my hips, my shoulders slouch low.

“I’m going to do everything I
possibly can to get you out of here, Brandon. I promise. Now, I’d really better get going.”

“Thanks … for doing this,” I say quietly. She reaches out and squeezes my shoulder lightly. “Hey, I never thought to ask. Is your dau
ghter staying out of trouble?” her eyes immediately brighten when I mention her, and I swear I just felt a slight twinge of jealously. Not once did my parents ever have that look in their eyes for me like she has for her daughter.

“Always,
” she winks and then heads out the room. When I turn back around, I see my lawyer sitting at the desk and looking right at me.

“What?”

He clears his throat as he stands, letting out a loud breath, “I have a feeling I’m going to have a hell of a lot more paperwork to deal with.”

Asshole.