Page 120 of Run Away With Me

‘Do I need a lawyer?’

She looked up at me, not laughing anymore. ‘I don’t know. Do you?’

I shrugged.

Before I could say anything else, there was a quick knock on the door and it swung open. The police officer who walked in was a woman who wore her hair in long, thick braids past her shoulders. She wasn’t wearing a uniform, just jeans and a T-shirt, with a blazer covering her weapon harness. She looked calm and elegant and totally in control. I immediately envied her. I wanted to be calm and elegant and in control, and instead I was a snotty, splotchy, terrified mess.

‘Take a seat, Jessie,’ she said, putting a folder down on the table.

I finally stopped my pacing and sat down on the edge of the chair, clasping my hands between my knees.

‘I’m Detective Audrey Beaufort. I’ve just got a few questions for you.’

‘Okay,’ I rasped.

Detective Beaufort checked one of the pieces of paper in her file and didn’t look at me.

‘I didn’t do it,’ I said in a rush.

‘Didn’t do what?’ she asked, raising her eyebrows a little.

‘I didn’t kill him.’

From next to me, I heard Claire sigh. I glanced at her, and she had her eyes shut, her fingers pinching the bridge of her nose. ‘Do you want a lawyer, Jessie?’ she asked.

‘No,’ I said. I was sure I was making the wrong decision, but I couldn’t stand the idea of having to wait to get this conversation over with.

‘Who didn’t you kill, Jessie?’ Detective Beaufort asked calmly, finally turning to look at me. Her dark-brown eyes were piercing, and I felt myself shrinking under her attention.

‘Mitchell,’ I whispered.

‘Mitchell …?’ she prompted me.

‘Mitchell Covier. He’s … Hewasmy mom’s boyfriend. He’s dead now.’

A moment of fear gripped me, because – No, I’d seen his body, he was definitely dead.

‘He’s dead, right?’ I asked desperately.

‘Yes,’ she replied, her expression totally unreadable. ‘How do you know that?’

‘It was on the news,’ I said. ‘And … I saw his body. Before I ran away.’

She nodded slowly. ‘When was this? When you saw Mitchell’s body, I mean.’

‘Right before I left Seattle. On the Monday afternoon.’

‘What time did you get home from school, Jessie?’

‘About five thirty, I guess. Choir was canceled.’

Detective Beaufort kept asking questions, guiding me through what I’d seen, what the kitchen looked like, where Mitchell’s body was. My stomach was heaving, my fingertips were icy cold, and the back of my neck and my face hurt from clenching my jaw so hard. My body was reacting to the stress, but my mind was shockingly clear.

It was almost,almost, a relief to finally tell someone all the details. For it all to be over.

The detective picked up another piece of paper from her folder.

‘Why didn’t you call the police when you found Mitchell’s body?’ she asked, and even though I knew that question was coming, I didn’t know how to answer it.

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