Loser || WlW

Nine

"Are you going to tell me why I'm here or are we going to stare at each other for another thirty minutes?" I raise an eyebrow at the chubby police officer in front of me. It's the same African American guy with his graying mustache.

He half shrugs. "Waiting on Officer Kyle." He rolls his tired eyes. I can't tell if he's sick of my shit or Kyle's.

"Kyle is Trevor's brother?" The question sounds innocent enough but the officer ignores me, blows a long breath out through his teeth, and checks his watch.

I lean back, pushing the chair on its legs. "Does it suck to work with him as much as it sucked to go to school with him?"

A short laugh escapes his lips. He shakes his head, a smile plastered to his face. "I would assume so." His voice is deep and fatherly.

The door swings open. Kyle with his too-buff arms and too-tight uniform takes a long sip of his coffee and switches places with the other officer.

I sit forward in my seat. "Kyle."

He puts a hand up. "I'll ask the questions. You answer them. We'll leave in less than ten minutes."

I stare at him, taken off guard by someone talking to me like I did something wrong. Like I murdered Claire. I nod.

"How are the therapy sessions going?" He folds his hands on the table.

"I uh..." Haven't gone since she cleared me to work. "She said I was fit to go back to work."

"Have you made any progress with your memory?"

"No." I clear my throat. "I'm trying, it's just... There's a lot going on right now."

He nods slowly, scribbling something down in a notebook. "You see, Jordan." His dark eyes shoot from the notebook to my face. "It is incredibly important you remember what happened when you left with Claire that night."

"I get it."

"I don't think you do," he snaps. The veins in his neck bulge as he slams the notebook shut. "We're considering all possibilities but the only one that leads anywhere revolves around you."

"Have you even found a body?" My face is hot as I remind myself to keep my tone down. "How do you know Claire didn't just take off? Maybe she ran away."

The Davis family has always been the talk of the town. Maybe things were dying off so they sent their daughter away to spend a few weeks in one of their vacation homes. When she comes back, they'll exchange tearful hellos and everyone will obsess over it for a few weeks until the next best story comes along.

Kyle takes a long breath and looks over his shoulder at the other officer.

After a second of silent contemplation, he nods.

Kyle faces me. "That would be the best-case scenario." He shakes his head. "But all of the money was sucked from her account today through an online transfer we traced back to this city."

My heart sinks to my stomach. "So, you think she's..."

He leans closer. "Yes, we believe Claire has been murdered."

"Have you looked into anyone besides me?" My voice is small. Any remaining optimism is sucked from my chest. Don't cry. They'll use my emotions against me.

Kyle clicks his pen a couple of times. "That's not something we can disclose."

I shrug and lean back in my seat again. I want to ask if they've made the connection between Claire and Trevor's ex-girlfriend but how do you ask someone if they think their own brother is a murderer?

"I was just wondering if..." I roll my eyes and force the words out. "Have you considered the idea Claire was murdered just one year after another girl from Jefferson High was found dead and they were both," I let out a long breath, "Involved with a specific group of people?"

Kyle's eyebrows shoot up as his face flushes red.

The other officer steps forward. "What do you mean by that, kid?" His voice is soft.

Kyle puts a hand up to stop him. "The cases are not connected."

"How do you know?" I sound too desperate, almost yelling at him. I swallow and sit back. I've gotta keep my cool or they'll lock me up with my mom.

"Jordan, is it true that you and your family are being evicted from your home?" Kyle switches the subject faster than I can catch what he's implying.

"Yeah, I don't see why that..." The money. I shake my head. "No. No, go check." I didn't kill Claire to pay off the house. I didn't even know we were losing the house that night. "Go check with the bank." I'm sure we're still behind on the mortgage. Dad couldn't have paid it with my medical bills racking up.

Kyle's lips pull into a smile. "We have, Miss Taylor." He pauses and shakes his head. "Your late payments have been made."

My vision pushes until everything is stretched out. That's impossible. Unless Dad sold an organ. I wipe the sweat from my forehead.

Kyle leans back, a cocky smile on his face as he straightens a stack of papers.

"Do I need a lawyer?" My voice shakes. I look from Kyle to the kind officer in the corner.

He nods, his eyes filling with sympathy.

Kyle snorts. "Can you afford one?" He laughs to himself and stands. "You're free to go. My colleague will escort you out."

The walk through the station is a blur. It's like the night at the pizza shop all over again. My heart is racing so fast, I can hardly stand.

"Miss?" The kind officer grabs my shoulder.

"Huh?" We're outside. The cold air dries the sweat on my forehead.

"I asked if you need a ride home." He rests his hands on his belt as he scans my face for a response.

"I'm good." I wave him off and start toward my house. I need the walk to calm my nerves.

Nothing makes sense. I didn't believe Brittany when she said they were going to pin me for this but now I know I can't go to the police for help. Kyle steered our conversation away from his brother like a professional. He didn't flinch when I brought Trevor up; only stacked the evidence against me. I was ignorant to think Claire would be home in a few days with a new tan and an explanation resembling some kind of celebrity meltdown.

I push into the house and find my dad and Zach sitting at the kitchen table.

"Hey, Kiddo." Dad doesn't look up from his paper.

"How did we pay for the house this month?"

They both look at me, startled by the suddenness of the question.

Dad leans forward, folds the paper on his lap, and takes his glasses off. "Kiddo, you don't need to worry about the house payment. You just focus on getting better."

"Who paid it?" I yell.

"Chill, Jo." Zach chuckles. "I did."

"How?" I drop my backpack by the couch and take a step toward the dining table.

"None of your business." Zach snaps and goes back to his flip phone.

"Zach, stop being an asshole!"

Dad shoots to his feet. "Okay, now. Everyone calm down." He looks from Zach to me. "Jo, what's going on?"

The lump in my throat makes it hard to speak. "The police think I killed Claire and stole her money to pay for the house." I rub my forehead. "So, can you just go prove that you took care of it, Zach?"

I brace myself on the wall while the room sways.

"Shit, Jo," he whispers. "I can't."

You have to be joking.

"Why not?" Everything is coming in through waves.

"Well, um," he glances at Dad and then back to me, "it was drug money."

My vision goes gray around the edges.

My dad throws his paper down. "For Christ's sake, Zachary."