Page 24 of Reckless
I sat on the couch, even though sitting was the last thing I wanted to do.
“I’ll let you begin,” Oliver spoke, looking as calm and collected as he could possibly be. “Tell me why you’re here to see me, Archer.”
“I practically got jumped after school by one of Jaz’s boyfriends,” I said, unable to keep the malice from my tone. I really didn’t like Dante, and I doubted Oliver Fitzpatrick knew exactly what Jaz got up to, and who she did it with.
But Oliver didn’t even blink. “Go on.”
“He all but accused me of killing Brittany.”
“And you’re here to try to convince me that you’re innocent,” he guessed, a pensive look on his face. “You already met Jacob Hall. Mr. Hall is helping me look into anyone who might want to pin Jaz for the murder of Brittany Pots. Your name has come up more than once.”
I was about to say more, but Oliver held up a hand, stopping me.
“You blame Jaz for word getting out about your father, even though she swears she has nothing to do with it. You hated Brittany for figuring everything out and using it to blackmail you into a relationship. By killing Brittany and framing Jaz, you eliminate them both simultaneously. I still haven’t figured out how her DNA wound up at the crime scene, but I’m sure something will come to light—”
The way he talked, it sounded like he was already positive I was the one who killed Brittany, that I’d be smart enough to frame Jaz and get rid of them both. I might get decent grades, but a frame job wasn’t my forte, and as for getting rid of Jaz? I…even though I might not like her right now, I didn’t want that.
“I didn’t do it,” I cut in. “I’m not a killer.”
“But you did hide your relationship with Brittany from Jaz from the beginning, did you not?”
I sat back, stunned. Damn. Jaz really did tell him everything, didn’t she? I wasn’t sure what to make of that, because I’d been banking on her keeping certain things to herself, like that.
“And you took Jaz to a party, knowing Brittany would use the opportunity to get her revenge,” Oliver plowed on. “How can you look at me here, right now, knowing that I am aware of your past with Jaz, knowing that I am aware you felt great bitterness toward Brittany blackmailing you, and try to claim innocence? Even if you are not the one who murdered Ms. Pots, you still are guilty of dragging Ms. Smith into your mess without a care in the world. If it was not for you, Jaz would not be in this situation. You might not be guilty of murder, Mr. Vega, but you are guilty of something.”
His blunt words made me feel…well, guilty. Like this was all my fault. Maybe it was. Maybe Jaz was just an innocent soul, caught in the web I’d dragged her into while she was blindfolded, not knowing the danger I led her to.
Oliver was a lawyer, and a damned good one at that, so I knew he was good at acting. A courtroom was a stage, and he’d become a master at it. Yet, as I sat there, listening to his speech about how guilty I was of something, I couldn’t help but feel like he was right. Like this wasn’t an act, like Oliver sincerely believed Jaz’s innocence.
Like I was the biggest ass in the world.
My emotions must’ve been plain on my face, for Oliver’s voice quieted as he said, “You’re still so young. You have your entire life ahead of you. Do not let your mistakes cloud your judgment, and don’t let your hatred guide you. You say you’re innocent? Prove it. Prove to me that I should be looking somewhere else. Prove to Jaz that you’re not the egotistical liar she thinks you are. Be better than your father, Archer.”
Did Oliver Fitzpatrick believe me? I…I didn’t know what to think, and I definitely didn’t know what to say at this point. This whole thing wasn’t going at all how I imagined it would, but, as much as I didn’t want to admit it, maybe that was for the best.
I opened my mouth, but no words came out, so I settled for leaning forward and leaning my face against my hands, as if I could blink and make all of this disappear. Make everything simple and easy again.
But this was Midpark, and things were never simple or easy here.
“You and Jaz…” Oliver’s voice broke into my thoughts, and I was slow to remove my hands from my face to look at him. “You both point fingers at the other, and either one of you is right, or you’re both wrong. Ms. Smith is my client, so I’m bound to her side, but I’ve spent years pretending that these cases don’t bother me. Years pretending that I’ve done enough. What happened to Brittany Pots was unfortunate, and it would take a real sociopath to commit a crime like that and frame someone else for it, thereby pitting the both of you against each other. After sitting down with you, after meeting you, I don’t think you have it in you.”
I watched him get up, watched him smooth out his suit jacket, a look of concern on his face.
“But, I suppose that’s the thing about sociopaths, isn’t it? They’re the ones who hide the best, the ones who are good at what they do.” Oliver let out a sigh, suddenly looking tired.
I sat there, not moving an inch, not knowing what to do. Was Oliver Fitzpatrick telling me these things to disarm me, to placate me, while he and Jacob went around and gathered evidence to make me look guilty? Jaz was their priority, not me, not making me feel better about my shitstorm of a life.
Oliver looked at me. “Do you want to talk to Jaz, since you’re here?”
That was like dangling a piece of freshly cooked and perfectly seasoned meat in front of a starving person. Yes, I wanted to talk to her, to see her, to…to come to terms with the strange feelings inside of me in spite of it all, but I also knew that if I took the entire bait, I’d probably get sick. When you were starving, you had to move slow.
“You won’t be alone, of course,” Oliver added, gesturing to the hall Jacob had disappeared down. “Jacob’s nearby, should anything happen, plus we have you on camera coming in. However, if there’s anything you two need to discuss, I would do it now. It would seem waiting to do anything in this town is detrimental.”
My gaze dropped to my hands, and I stared at them hard. Either Oliver was a good actor, or he’d somehow managed to say the right things to make me question everything.
God, I was such an ass, and all for what? For my mom? Look at what was happening now—time was ticking. It was only a matter of time until what little I had left exploded in front of me, and there was nothing I could do to stop it.
Everything was pointless now. Inevitable.
