The Bitch You Killed

Chapter Thirty Six

"Well apparently this is your diary," Jackson replied as he began to file the page away again, "the whole diary is full of entries which state how frightened you are of your 'big, bad brother', - your words, not mine."

"It wasn't me," I repeated in an icy tone, "I wrote a diary but that's not it." I felt bile which I didn't even know I could still produce rise up my throat but nothing came out. I felt my whole body stiffen as my rage continued. I was angry but I couldn't ignore the underlying fear. I felt like my whole plan was going to fall apart before it had even properly been set in place. In the diary I wrote, I implicated Mackenzie. I knew as did Chase that Mackenzie and myself had not rekindled our friendship since the truth about her step-mother and the accident had come out. Whoever wrote this wanted to change the actual events and it was obviously Mackenzie's doing as it took away any possible motive. Why would you want to kill someone who you were friends with?

"Where did you put the diary?" Jackson asked as he gazed in my direction, "if I found it, it could help."

"In my underwear drawer, you know the one I left open which you happened to stumble upon when trying to find the video recorder," I replied, my mouth slightly turning up into a grin as I noticed Jackson's cheeks redden a little at the memory.

It was then that it was emphasised that it really was a pity I was dead. There was something about Jackson that I found captivating, whether it was the way he took control of a situation and tried his best to help or whether it was because he was sizzling hot, I wasn't sure. There was just something about Officer Jackson Williams that I liked.

"Right, I'll get down there and eh, take a look," he murmured as his cheeks continued to redden at the prospect of having to route through my underwear drawer.

I continued to secretly gaze at Jackson as he scrawled down things to check out in his black pad. He looked up and continued to ask Chase questions about that night while I tuned their voices out and just concentrated on Jackson. His jaw line was strong and his hands were so large that the black pen he held looked tiny and out of place. When he concentrated, his tongue had a habit of darting out between his lips, something that I would never have saw as attractive on anyone else but on Jackson it just worked.

Jackson turned in my direction and asked me a question, but I still had yet to tune in to his voice.

"Is she still there?" Jackson asked awkwardly as he turned in Chase's direction.

Realising that I had made a mistake, I turned to find Chase staring at me, his lips pursed and his head tilted. "Oh yeah, she's still here," he replied as a sly grin rose onto his face as he leaned back into the uncomfortable plastic chair and folded his arms across his chest.

Jackson's mouth opened a little as he stared between where he assumed I was sat and where Chase was sitting.

"Sorry, I didn't hear you. I was in another world – both mentally and literally," I said with a fake laugh at the end as I tried to turn the conversation away from the fact that I had been totally checking Jackson out.

"That's understandable," he replied before clearing his throat, "I hate to ask this Khloe, but I need to start finding actual suspects and so far you haven't giving me any. Who really killed you?"

My body tensed at the question. I had only admitted to one person who had actually pulled the trigger before and for some reason it felt so much harder to tell Jackson than it had been Chase. Maybe that's because the whole sordid plan sounded completely crazy or maybe it was because I hadn't come to terms with it myself. A week ago, I had never believed that Tyler would have been capable of such cruelty. I trusted him implicitly – I thought he was my forever. But I guess in the real world not everyone gets a forever.