“Look, Summer was aggressive towards us. There’s a whole bar of people who saw what went down. Is she really trying to press charges over a little shove?” I sigh and shake my head.
“Ms. Winters, Summer Carlisle isn’t pressing charges,” Perkins says, looking at me seriously. “Summer’s body was found early this morning.”
Shit just got real.
Chapter Seven
“What do you mean, ‘her body was found’? What happened to her?” I ask, flabbergasted. I instantly regret my spiteful musings.
“It means that she’s dead. More specifically murdered,” Cole says dryly. She leans forward and rests her elbows on her knees, for dramatic effect, I’m guessing. “Now being that you admit to assaulting her, all fingers point to you. Tell me, Gabriella, why did you want Ms. Carlisle dead?”
Is this woman for real? Someone has obviously been watching too many episodes of Law & Order. Simmer down, Detective Dramatic.
“What? Look, there’s no way I killed Summer. I had no reason to. She got out of hand at the bar. Yes, I pushed her, but that’s it,” I retort, fervently.
“No one’s accusing you of murder, Gabriella.” Perkins gives his partner an irritated glance. “But I do need to ask of your whereabouts last night approximately between 1 and 3 A.M. About what time did you leave the bar?”
“Well, after I got into it with Summer, I left and waited outside with my friend. Then we headed to Denny’s around midnight, I guess, maybe a little later. I got home after 2 or so,” I recall.
“And can anyone vouch for that?” Perkins asks.
“Yes, Jared Johnson, of course. And my friends Morgan, James, and Miguel. Wait!” I jump up and sprint to my room, returning just seconds later with a small slip of paper. “Here’s my receipt from Denny’s. I paid with my debit card.” I shove the piece of paper in Perkins’ face, pointing at the time stamp. It reads 1:52 A.M.
“This should check out.” Perkins nods, noting the time. He picks up his notepad. “And your friends? I’m going to need their names.”
“Sure. Jared and James Johnson. Morgan Pierre. And Miguel Espinoza.”
“And we’ll need to know where to find them,” Cole snaps.
I look at Cole squarely. “At their homes,” I say with a cynical smirk.
“Their addresses,” she adds, brusquely. She’s shooting daggers at me with her hard, muddy brown eyes.
“You’re the detective. Investigate!” I say incredulously. “Hell, you found me easily enough.” I give Cole a cold stare of my own. I hear my mom gasp in disbelief at my outburst and I turn back to my parents and mouth ‘What?’ with shrugged shoulders. I return my attention to a now furious Cole, and Perkins, a smile playing on his full lips as he scribbles down the names of my friends.
“Thank you for your time,” Perkins says, rising. He shakes each of our hands. Cole jumps up and makes a beeline for the front door without a word. Rude ass. “Here’s my card. Call me if you hear anything and we’ll be in touch if we have further questions.”
“No problem, Detective. Oh, Detective Perkins? Can I ask how she died?” I add, wondering if my suspicions are true.
Perkins looks back at his partner who is rolling her eyes, waiting impatiently with her hands on her hips. He hesitates for a beat. “Puncture wounds to the jugular, it seems, but we’re still waiting on the autopsy report.”
Chris shakes his head grimly and Donna grasps her chest with horror. I’m frozen in my seat, unable to process this horrible revelation. Finally, I meet Perkins’ eyes and nod my understanding. He looks solemn and exhausted as he walks to the door, as if he’s been working to catch the killer day and night. Little does he know that the assailant he’s searching for cannot be confined by handcuffs and a jail cell.
“Why don’t we go ahead and have breakfast,” my mom says after the police leave. She tries to usher me to the kitchen but I stop in my tracks.
“No. I’m going back to bed.” I turn on my heel and head back to my bedroom. I have no intention of sleeping but I definitely can’t eat after what has just transpired. I think to call my friends to warn them about the police but decide against it. I don’t want it to seem like we were plotting anything just in case they check our phone records. I really want to talk to Dorian, but I’m not sure if he’s on a plane or if he’s even awake. I decide to try a text message.
To Dorian, 8:31 A.M.
-Hey, sorry I didn’t call you back. Hope you have a safe trip. I’m looking forward to Friday, too ;)