Chapter Eight
I should probably tell you that I didn't pout the entire night. I didn't go up to my third floor apartment, throw on some old clothes and some even older sappy music. I should even tell you that I didn't look at the time on my phone every five seconds.
I have a reputation to uphold, if anyone cares about it. I had no reason to care that much about her at that moment, and I probably didn't know I was. I just knew I was a little bit more irritable than normal and would feel better when J got home. My fingers could still feel the softness of her back. More than anything, I wanted to feel it again. Though I knew it would take a miracle.
At around nine, I plopped on the couch with my books. I scanned the syllabi from each class… okay, I mostly watched the television. It was some show about zombies my father talked about all the time.
Yes… my preacher father liked zombie television shows. He was and still is a complex man.
Anyway… so, I was sitting, reading, watching television, and checking my phone every little bit to see what time it was. I was multitasking.
After a few more minutes, I grumbled to myself, "How long do these stupid parties last?"
After a few more minutes, I tossed my book on the coffee table next to my other books, threw my head back against the couch all dramatically and sighed. "This is so stupid," I said, out loud, to myself.
Don't judge me.
It finally dawned on me how stupid I was acting. I'd just met the girl YESTERDAY! I didn't even really know her. It was none of my concern who she was out with. Even her sheriff brother said her boyfriend was okay. I needed to relax and get over it.
And I needed to get the picture of her freshly showered, towel-covered body out of my mind.
And how she felt when I hugged her…
And how much I had wanted to kiss her…
At the end of my sort of crazy rope, I decided I was a man and enough was enough. I decided to not check the time anymore and to just go on with my night. I had things to do. I had to get up early tomorrow for my second day of college. I had a life, and it didn't consist of sitting alone in my apartment at night waiting for my new roommate to clomp up the stairs.
That's why when my phone started vibrating, I ignored it at first. It was probably my mom calling to check on me, and I really didn't want to answer any questions. I'd call her tomorrow.
And it kept vibrating.
And I started feeling bad because hello, my mom.
I picked up the phone begrudgingly and saw the name.
Roomie.
Roomie? I hadn't… okay, J must have put her number on my phone when we were standing around her car at school earlier, I reasoned. But I had no idea why she'd be calling me while on a date with the wonderful Oliver.
Still makes me sick.
Curious, I clicked the green button to say hello. J beat me to it.
"Emily! Get Josh down here now! Oliver's house. There's a body. I need police and an ambulance. Get my brother. Now, Emily! Get him here!"
Click.
Just like that.
My mind went into over drive. Emily? Emily was the name of the other dispatcher. The one who was working for J tonight so she could go to Oliver's. So J had meant to call 9-1-1, but had somehow gotten me instead? Not wanting to waste time, I got up and threw on some old, worn out sneakers. I didn't even bother changing clothes. I had on gray pajama bottoms and a white and reddish shirt with a black long-sleeved shirt tied around my waist in case it got cold. I was covered, that was all that mattered. Covered and I had to go.
I can't say I noticed my knee hurting as I ran down the two flights of stairs and into the foyer. I was out the door and across the street before I noticed I'd left my keys in my apartment.
Stupid.
Not wanting to waste time, I barged through the door of the police station, fully expecting to see J's brother.
Except I forgot that the man had to sleep sometime.
Some deputy I didn't recognize sat in his chair. He looked like a scared kitten when I flew in. I supposed except for the three murders in so many month months, Linley, Tennessee was a pretty quiet place to live. "Where is he? The sheriff?"
"At home." He sat up straighter in his chair. "I'm the officer in charge right now. Thomas Benton. What's wrong?"
Thomas Benton didn't look old enough to be an 'officer in charge'. "J… Jordan called my phone. I think she meant to call 9-1-1, but she got me. She's in trouble."
"Who's in trouble?" A redhead peeked her head out from around the corner.
I asked if she was Emily and she nodded.
"J called my phone and asked for you. She said to get her brother to Oliver's house ASAP. Said they also needed an ambulance."
Emily looked at Thomas who did the same back at her.
Emily finally spoke up. "I'll call EMS and wake Sheriff Rivers. You go to Oliver's house and check it out."
Officer Benton nodded and grabbed his keys.
"I'm going with you," I said, not thinking for a second that he wouldn't let me. I was going, and he wasn't going to stop me.
"No. you stay here. Better yet, go back home. Thank you for telling me, but this is a police matter." He started to walk by me and I grabbed his arm to stop him.
Thomas's eyes widened again, this time not for fear or surprise… well, maybe from surprise. He hadn't expected little ol' me to challenge him. I didn't let go, but I eased up my grip a little. "J is my friend. I'm the one she called."
"By accident." He had the niceness to remind me.
"Doesn't matter. I'm going. You can either let me ride in the cruiser or I go get my keys and follow you, but I'm going to make sure she's alright."
I guess Officer Benton decided I wasn't worth messing with. He didn't exactly give me the seal of approval, but he did start out the door and didn't rebuke me when I followed him to his cruiser.
"Buckle up," he said very matter of factly, very impersonal, as he put the car in reverse. Before I knew it, Officer Benton and I were on our way, sirens blasting, to Oliver Weston's mansion to see what in the world was wrong with J.
Oliver lived, I found out, on the other side of town, past the white church, past the supermarket, past the school… and a few more minutes out on a huge piece of land and in an old plantation-style house. There is no real reason for me to tell you that, except I assume you want me to tell you. You seem the type that would care what his house looked like. It looked to be Civil War era I guess. Two stories. Big balcony. Probably cost more than I'd make in my lifetime.
Officer Benton's radio went off and he answered it. Apparently, Emily had gotten in touch with the sheriff and he'd meet us at Oliver's house.
I was pretty happy about that except I wanted to hurry and get there now. For whatever reason, fate, karma, Divine intervention, slippery fingers, J had called me. Not the dispatch. It couldn't be a coincidence… well, it could have, but I didn't see it as one.
We finally got there and I jumped out of the car. I heard Officer Benton yelling behind me to stop, but I kept right on running, up the front stairs, onto the porch and right up to the front door where — I supposed I should have knocked — but I didn't. Instead, I barreled in, nearly taking some poor lady out with me.
"Excuse me!" she said all proper when she got the wind back in her.
Normally, I would feel bad about knocking someone down, especially a woman. I'm not like that. I don't hit or hurt or do anything like that to a woman.
I'm not like Oliver.
But in that moment, I just wanted to get to J as quickly as I could. I did, however, take a second to apologize. "I'm sorry. I didn't see you."
"I guess not, running in like that."
I had to cut off her admonishment. "Jordan Rivers. Is she here?"
The elderly lady dressed as a maid pointed to the left and said something, but I didn't wait to hear what it was. I also heard Officer Benton yelling behind me. Again, I didn't care. I had to see if J was okay. I needed to know.
I even yelled her name. I turned a corner and saw a group of people, important people by how they were dressed in suits and ties — I stuck out like a sore thumb. Most of me didn't care.
"J?" I asked again, this time not running.
The assembled turned a few at a time to me and backed away enough for me to see the lone girl crouched on the floor. The hem of her little black dress gently rubbed against the floor. I could tell, even from behind, that she was shaking. I never took my eyes off of her as I walked through the crowd toward her.
From my side vision I saw what looked like a bathroom with the door wide open.
Oliver was there. Of course he was. His arm was draped over J's shoulders, holding on to her as she shivered. At that moment, watching him hold her like that, I wanted to smack him. And I knew that if he'd had something to do with it, I would hurt him.
"J?" I said a third time.
That time, she turned her head to me. To her credit, her eyes weren't wet so she hadn't been crying, but something had surely upset her. "What are you doing here?" she asked, confused.
I bent down on her level, on the opposite side of Oliver. We had her sandwiched in. "You called me."
"You?"
I nodded. "You called me Emily and said I had to get help as quickly as I could."
"Emily is the other dispatcher." J told me.
"We met."
"When?" she asked.
"When I ran across the road and told her to send the police here."
My quick admission made Oliver take notice. "You called the cops?" I saw his fingers tighten on J's arm and her flinch just a bit.
Something in my mind clicked and I felt protective. I wanted to knock his hand right off of her, but before I could she beat me to it. "A dead body fell out of the closet right in front of me. Yeah. I called the cops."
It was the first time I had ever truly been proud of her. "There's a dead body?"
Oliver opened his mouth, but J beat him to it. "A girl. In there." She pointed to the bathroom with a shaking finger. "She fell out of the closet when I was looking for a hand towel."
"Scott!" Officer Benton yelled behind me, making me flinch. I'd actually forgotten I'd ridden with him. "I told you to wait."
I didn't answer and Benton didn't dwell on it.
"Where's Victor Weston?" the officer asked.
There was a pause and no one said a word.
It hit me as strange that the owner of Weston Enterprises wasn't front and center at a Weston Enterprises party at his own house. Especially at a party where the police had to be called.
Just as I thought that, a stately man… I say stately because he was an imposing feller with salt and pepper hair and chiseled good looks. All in all, very handsome for an older guy. He was clean shaven and the way he walked oozed authority. "I'm right here, Officer. Had some business to take care of in the back."
"Did this business have anything to do with a dead body?" Benton asked with his own authority. I was actually slightly amazed that this little runt of an officer had the gall to talk like that to a man as influential as I assumed Victor Weston to be. Then again, from the few minutes I'd known Benton, I didn't see him as person who cared much about some else's station in life.
"No," Victor said matter-of-factly. "I was only told of it a second ago. That's why I came."
"So you haven't seen it?" Benton asked, his hand relaxed on his weapon.
"I thought I made that clear, Officer." Victor's voice had an edge to it. "Where's the sheriff?"
Benton told Victor he was on his way. Victor let Benton know in no uncertain terms that he would answer questions only from the sheriff. From the corner of my eye, I saw Benton's face redden, but he never flinched. Something told me he was used to people throwing their weight around with him.
They didn't have to wait long. I heard the sheriff's voice before I saw him, though to be fair, I was more focused on J than him anyway. Oliver had stood by that time, clearly upset about J pushing him away. I took a split second to look up at him. His jaw — which resembled his father's — was set and his eyes were dark. He cut his eyes to his father then back down to J.
I heard Victor clear his throat and give his son a look that said, to me, "Shut up. I'll handle this." No one else saw it, though. They had all turned to listen to the sheriff. Even J had straightened her posture.
Maybe I'm projecting. Maybe Victor's expression wasn't meant to say that to his son. Maybe given what I know now, I'm just putting my own spin on things.
Maybe… but it's doubtful. I think Victor knew. Even then, he knew.
But I'm getting ahead of myself again. I'm sorry. You said start at the beginning and I keep going to the middle and the end.
The end, I don't want to think about.
The middle… that'll be for another time.
The beginning.
The sheriff walked in and got everyone's attention. Benton didn't flinch, but did step back and allow the senior officer to take the floor. The sheriff stared at Victor for a few seconds, clearly sizing up the situation. Then, to my surprise, he turned his attention to his sister. "Are you hurt, Jordan?"
She shook her head and said she was fine. She grabbed my hand… my hand… and I helped her stand.
And she didn't let go once she stood either.
J held on like I was her lifeline. Like she needed something concrete to tether her down… or maybe even to keep her from passing out. Whatever it was, she chose me over her boyfriend. Over Oliver Weston who was standing not two feet from her. I noticed. He noticed. I think even the sheriff noticed.
I'm still not sure J noticed.
"I got a call from dispatch. Seems something is going on here, Mr. Weston. Care to fill me in?"
Victor pointed at J. "Ask her. She found it and alerted the authorities."
"Found what?" Sheriff Rivers asked as he got in front of J and leaned down so his eyes were level with hers. "What did you see, Jordan?"
Her voice didn't shake, but she squeezed my hand tighter. "In there. I was washing my hands and didn't see any towels. I didn't want to wipe them on my dress. It's new. So I opened the linen closet. That's when she fell out."
"She?" The sheriff put his hands on her shoulders like Oliver had done, but he didn't squeeze as hard as her boyfriend had. J didn't flinch.
"The girl," she said and leaned a little bit more into me.
Victor started into the bathroom, but the sheriff blocked him. He motioned for him to stand outside and wait. If, in real life, smoke could in fact blow out of people's ears, it would have been through Victor Weston's right at that moment.
There kept being this unspoken communication between the father and son. Finally, the elder Weston smiled at the assembled guests. "I'm sorry, friends. We need to let the police do their work. Please accept my apologies. We will have to continue this dinner another time."
Several of the men asked what was going on and who the girl was. Victor never wavered. He never stopped. He never quit playing host.
I stayed with J. She held onto my hand, but I don't think she meant to. I think it was a reflex. A safety device. I held her hand too, to make her feel safe and taken care of. And to know that someone else was with her. Not just that SOB Oliver.
Speaking of Oliver, he didn't take very kindly to me holding his girl's hand. But being the gentleman he was, didn't say anything. Not then anyway. I got to hear about it later.
In the bathroom, Sheriff Rivers crouched near the body. I couldn't see her. Not fully. Just a bare leg. Not even a shoe. Her black skirt was pulled up over her knee and a few flecks of blood could see be seen on her calf.
"Who is it?" J asked from my side.
The sheriff didn't say anything at first. He kept examining her. Oliver took the opportunity to put his arm back around J. It had to be weird for her. Holding my hand while the boyfriend, albeit an evil boyfriend, had his arm around her. For the first time in a long while, J seemed to notice what she was doing — i.e. holding my hand. S
he let it go, which I wasn't happy about.
But what did at least make me smile was when she pulled away from Oliver too and walked into the bathroom with her brother.
If looks could kill, I'd have been as dead as the girl on the bathroom floor.
Oliver was a little taller than me, but he looked down on me like I was an ant that needed to be squashed.
Officer Benton had cleared out the room, but I heard talking coming from outside. No doubt each of the assembled had tweeted about the event, putting their own spin on it of course. Even with a dead person a few feet away, Oliver wasn't thinking about her.
He pivoted so his back was to the sheriff and J. He whispered, "Stay away from her."
Not to be outdone, I told him. "She called me, remember?"
Oliver smirked. "By accident. She doesn't want you here. No one does."
And I couldn't leave well enough alone. I probably should have, looking back on it, but I couldn't. Not then. "Sure seemed like she wanted me here when she was holding my hand and not yours."
Wrong thing to say.
I didn't think Oliver's eyes could get darker. He got closer to my ear, and when he spoke, his voice had gotten deeper. "Jordan is mine. Not yours. Will never be yours. And if you try to get between us, it won't be pleasant for you. But thanks for coming." He slapped me hard enough on the back for me to cough. It was enough to get my attention, and it was enough to make me mad.
If I had my time to do over again, I would have hauled off and strangled him. Then there would have been two dead bodies in the house. Maybe it wasn't very Christianly to think that, but my father was the preacher, not me. I guess J could say the same thing.
As it was, I clinched my fists into a ball and gritted my teeth. A prayer flew from my mind toward heaven. I say it that way because it wasn't like I had the thought, "Oh, let me pray right now." No, I hadn't prayed in a long time. And it wasn't even a long prayer. It was more of a "God, don't let me do something I'd regret."
So despite my better judgment, I didn't kill him. I didn't hit him. I just let him walk into the bathroom with J and the sheriff. And I went to sit down on the couch.
Alone.