“I didn’t do it.” I say, stubbornly. “That is not mine; I have never even seen that before in my life. I don’t know how it got there.”
I could see my lawyer glancing at me from the corner of his eye. He’s trying to communicate with me (‘Shut up, Chase. Let me do the talking’) but I can’t hold the words in. It wasn’t in my nature to just sit here and be accused, especially something not as atrocious as this.
As soon as they found whatever they found underneath my bed – the murder weapon – they arrested me and brought me in for questioning. They had took my prints, gave me my phone call, and had brought me to the investigation room. I’ve now been stuck here for the past hour, I’ve been answering – and ignoring – the same question over and over again.
All I could think about between questions was how I was going to explain this to Harley. I knew I was completely innocent, I had nothing to do with the murder, but I had to admit them finding the murder weapon (or what’s thought to be) was pretty incriminating.
She’d believe me. I knew she would. I hope she will.
“Alright,” announces the police officer. He’s a blonde haired man, with a chubby second chin, with eyes sharp and inspecting. “Time for a break, take him back to his cell. No visitors until the DNA results come through.”
They take me down to my cell – still in cuffs – my lawyer by my side. I don’t really understand how this whole thing works, but I’m sure that he can stay with me and talk to me. You know, help me build a case to prove my innocence.
Sitting down on the cold, hard, bench in my cell I press my face into my hands. Sighing deeply, I rub the top of my nose. I can feel a headache building, and I doubt they’ll be kind enough to give me painkillers.
My lawyer looked at me from the other side of the bars. He didn’t come in with me, and I don’t question why. To be honest, I’m scared the answer won’t be what I want to hear (‘Sorry, dude, I don’t entirely trust you. I’m having doubts on whenever you killed that girl or not – something I don’t want to hear from my lawyer).
“I didn’t do it.” I said and looked up at the ceiling. “I didn’t kill her. I didn’t even harm her.”
My lawyer makes a sound of agreement. “We just need to find evidence that you didn’t do it. A street camera catching your face at the time of death, anything.”
I thought of a new idea. “Wait…the murder weapon had to have gotten into my room somehow right?” feeling charged with this new idea, I stood up and walked to the bars. “The real murderer must have planted it there. But how? Who has enough access to get in and out of rooms without being suspected?”
My lawyer nods. “I will look into it, but Chase we need to work on placing where you were and finding evidence for it.”
I nod. “Please. Just look into it. I think it could help the case.”
“I can’t believe this. I can’t.”
Asher looks at me, concerned. “Harley, are you okay?”
I give my brother a dirty look, and cross my arms. “Don’t ask stupid questions, Asher. You’re an idiot.”
He rolls his eyes, and places his hands in his pockets. He perches against the door frame. I’m sitting on my bed, a quiet Nate sat next to me. He’s deep in thought, thinking about something in a faraway land that exists only in his head.
“It doesn’t make sense!” I exclaim. “None of this makes freaking sense. So Chase had a connection with her, and he’s the one that’s being a suspect for murder? So they decide to search his room and find what? Something that looks like a murder weapon?”
“They’re at least ninety percent sure that it’s the murder weapon, Harles. They’re running DNA tests.”
Nate sighs next to me. He places his hand on my knee, and squeezes it comfortingly. “We all know Chase didn’t kill anyone. We just need to find the motive for someone framing him. Maybe if we can find some sort of lead we can help?”
I turn to Nate and smile slightly. “You want to play detective, don’t you?”
Nate smiles, in a joking – but still somehow serious – kind of way. “Yes. I’m not going to sit by and watch as my friend goes down for something he didn’t do. We got to do anything we can to help, right?”
“Without getting ourselves in trouble,” Asher puts in. “That wouldn’t reflect very well on Chase.”
I nod. “Okay – let’s play detective.”
My plan was working perfectly.
It was a pure luck – it was almost like God willed it – that Chase decided to take that girl, Harley, out for a date. He left his room unoccupied, free for me go in and plant the weapon.
I knew it was only a matter of days before they’d get a warrant for his room, and the odds were in my favour…
My plan was going perfectly.
If it carried on the way it was going I’d have that boy locked up and paying for the murder in a few short months. Maybe even weeks.
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Mwahahaha it's only chapter nine and things are already heating up! xD Who do you all think the real murderer is? What is Chase's mysterious connection to the girl? Any ideas?
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Chase and Harley are off to college, finally together. They're hoping this year will be stalker and trouble free, but things don't seem to go their way, especially not when Chase is the main suspect in a murder case. Cover by CaptainSwan97