The Set Up (25 page)

Jake laughs.

I like how they get along—like brothers, just like Jake said.

Jake starts up the stairs. “I know. I think the only people he’s ever cooked for are us guys, and his mother of course.”

“Will likes to cook?” I ask Jasper.

“He does. And he’s good at it. If it weren’t for him I would have survived solely on sandwiches through my entire teen years.”

I give him a small smile, his friend’s words haunting me—
you don’t understand just how bad his life was.

Once Jake has disappeared to the loft, Jasper takes a closer step toward me. “You sure you’re okay?”

“Yes,” I insist.

“Okay. I’ll be right back,” he says, and then he’s gone.

I can tell he doesn’t want to leave me alone with Jake, but really, I can handle myself. I might appear weak, meek, or easily walked upon, but I have thick skin, toughened by years of always being forgotten, and I can handle Jake. He’s harmless anyway; what he needs is manners when it comes to women. I practically laugh to myself thinking maybe I could teach him a thing or two.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Pound. Pound. Pound.

Startled, I jump and gawk at the door like an idiot.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Pound. Pound. Pound.

Someone or some two are at the door.

“What the fuck?” Jasper comes rushing out with his worn jeans unbuttoned and low on his hips, his T-shirt only halfway on, and bare feet. Something about his bare feet is so sexy. They get closer and my gaze lifts and goes right to those amazing abs before landing on his face.

What is wrong with me?

Jasper gives me a quick glance. “Did you buzz someone up?” His tone is noticeably calmer when he talks to me.

“No. No one buzzed.”

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Pound. Pound. Pound.

Jake comes stomping down the stairs. “What’s going on?”

Pulling his shirt all the way down, Jasper tosses him an
I don’t have a flying fuck
look and then flings open the door, clearly ready to rip someone’s head off.

Nothing seems real for a moment.

Thin-pursed lips, a skinny face, and broad shoulders set my pulse at an alarming speed. It’s him—the detective. But what makes my pulse skyrocket are the two thick, black gun-and-radio belts planked on either side of him.

On the other side of the threshold stands the detective, dressed in a similar rumpled tan suit to the one he wore yesterday, and two police officers dressed in full uniform.

Panic rises in my chest.

“Jasper Storm.” The familiar sound of his voice makes everything about the moment suddenly become very real.

Jasper nods.

“I’m Sergeant Detective John Hill.” He extends his hand and offers Jasper a piece of paper.

Quickly, Jasper snatches it. His back is to me, so I can’t see his face. I take a tentative step, hoping to see what it is.

“This is a warrant to search your premises,” the detective says tersely.

A wave of dread comes over me.

“Shit, fuck, shit.” Jake is beside me now and his curses are low and full of worry.

I turn to him and feel more than panicky when I see horror written all over his face. “What’s going on?”

Jake has his phone in his hand and he’s furiously texting someone. “This has to be about the girl whose body was found at the plant,” he mumbles under his breath.

Eve.

I can barely hear him above the blood rushing to my ears. Of course this is happening. Eve was with Jasper the night she was killed, which has to make Jasper a person of interest. I’m pretty certain from the way the detective spoke to me yesterday that he wants me to be one as well.

Jasper finishes reading the warrant and clears the doorway. His hand drops and the paper crumples between his fingers.

The detective steps in and his eyes land on mine immediately.

Mine avert to Jasper.

“I’d like to ask you a few questions while the officers conduct the search,” the detective says.

“Can we do this later?”

“No, that’s not an option, Mr. Storm.”

My heartbeat feels as though it is at the base of my throat, loud and uncomfortable.

Face twisting with anguish, Jasper doesn’t make any response to the detective but looks directly at Jake. “Will you please take Charlotte home?”

The breath comes sharply into my lungs. “Jasper, let me stay,” I plead before Jake can answer. I want to be here for him. He looks lost. Uncertain. And I can’t stand the thought of leaving him by himself.

He’s shaking his head no.

Ignoring the detective, who is growing increasingly agitated, Jake pleads with Jasper. “I’m not leaving you alone this time.”

There seems to be so much emotion in Jake’s voice. Something I don’t quite understand.

Jasper gives him a look.

Jake is adamant though. “I’m sorry, JJ, I can’t. As soon as Will and Drew get here though, I promise I’ll make sure Charlotte gets home safely.”

Tears well in my throat and get stuck there.
JJ.
The name his father called him when he knew Jasper wasn’t happy. The name I called him when I knew he was sad. The name that somehow has still lived on in the same tradition all these years.

The detective is now looking between Jasper and me with keen interest. I don’t like the scrutiny or the assumptions I see popping up in his eyes. Like we’re in on something together and trying to cover it up.

“I’ll be fine, Jake,” Jasper grits through his teeth with determination, once again ignoring the detective.

“If you don’t mind, I’d like to talk to both Miss Lane and,” the detective pauses, pulls his notebook out, and then looks up, “Jake Crown.”

“I do mind,” Jasper mutters, and then his gaze falls softly on mine. “Please go home, Charlotte. I don’t want you to hear this.”

Suddenly, that connection we shared so long ago, the one that I realize now must be what’s driving the chemistry between us, feels more real than anything I’ve felt in a very long time. With determination of my own, I shake my head no.

All wet hair and strong body, Jasper turns toward Detective Hill and for the first time speaks directly to him. “Give me a minute?”

The detective is reluctant.

“ Please.”

The detective nods. “The officers are going to begin their search. You can talk to Miss Lane privately, but I have to ask that you remain within the confines of this room.”

Taking quick steps toward me, Jasper grabs my hand and leads me to the bank of French doors. When he stops in front of them, I don’t let him talk. Instead I whisper, “Do you remember how when you’d sneak over late at night and I’d tell you to go home because if your mother caught you over at my house she wouldn’t be happy, but you never would leave because you didn’t want me to be alone?”

“Charlotte, I remember everything, but this isn’t the same.”

I bring his hand to my heart the way he used to do with me. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Jasper pauses, his breath hot on my cheek. “This isn’t kid stuff. He’s going to ask me what took place that night. About Eve. And about other stuff I haven’t told you yet.”

I squeeze his hand. “I can handle it, Jasper. I’m not that kitten anymore and I’m stronger than you think.”

His hand squeezes mine in return. “What if it’s me who can’t handle you hearing it?”

“Sir.” One of the officers rushes in the room from the hallway. “I think you need to see this.”

Both of our heads whirl around.

The sun is bright in the room and everything is so very easy to see. My eyes land on the item brought to attention and I swear I can hear the blood pulsing in my head. Real fear creeps into my mind for the first time since Eve’s death and shock overtakes me.

As if in slow motion, I see Jasper pull away from me and then lean against the window for support, his own version of shock or maybe even fear having overtaken him too.

Jake is squeezing his eyes shut and rubbing his forehead.

In a large clear plastic bag labeled police evidence are those shiny shoes I saw Jasper wearing the night of the council vote, and they are covered in mud, just like Eve’s lifeless corpse was.

Detective Hill walks toward the police officers, surveys the evidence, and then looks toward Jasper. “Are these yours?”

The sound of his voice snaps me out of the dark hole I had fallen into.

“Yes, they are,” Jasper answers, his voice shaky, “but I don’t know how that mud got there.”

“Yes he does. All four of us guys went outside after the news of the vote and it had just started to rain. It must have happened then,” Jake quickly offers.

“Is this true?” the detective asks Jasper.

Feeling like this just turned into more than a simple search, I step in front of Jasper. “You don’t have to answer his questions.”

Jasper gives the detective a nod and then looks at me. “It’s okay. I didn’t do anything wrong.”

Jake is once again furiously texting on his phone.

The detective finds the remote and turns off the television. “Why don’t you sit down and tell me how you knew the victim.”

With slow steps, Jasper takes a seat on the couch.

My natural instinct is to follow and sit beside him.

The detective continues to stand with his arms crossed a few feet away.

The room is silent until Jasper begins to speak. “I think you already know how I knew the victim. That’s why you’re here.”

Detective Hill leans against the island. “Yes. That is correct. Multiple witnesses at the party you were having on the night of the murder have confirmed the fact that Eve Hepburn was last seen entering a bedroom in one of the Marriott suites with you and another person. Let’s start there, shall we?”

My heart skitters.

Another person, as in a threesome?

My head whips toward Jasper.

Jasper nods, swallows, looks at me, and then looks away.

“We could do this at the station if you prefer?”

Jasper goes a little paler at the suggestion. With a shake of his head, he wipes his hands on his jeans and sounding nervous, he says, “No, I’m good here.”

Not wasting a moment, the detective continues. “Okay, good. Then why don’t you start with how you met Ms. Hepburn?”

There’s a moment of silence before Jasper speaks. “I’d met a woman earlier that night at the unveiling of the Storm and she introduced us.”

The detective extracts a skinny notebook from his back pocket and then a ballpoint pen from the inside of his suit coat. “Go on.”

“The three of us talked for a while and then when I knew I’d had way too much to drink, I went to my room.”

“But you weren’t alone?”

Jasper clears his throat. “No, I wasn’t.”

“What time was this?”

“I don’t know. I never looked at my watch.”

“What happened next?”

“Is this really necessary? To go into detail like this?”

The detective stares at him with those cool slate-blue eyes. “Again, if you prefer, I can take you to the station.”

Jasper blanches and vehemently shakes his head no.

I know he spent time in Juvie and wonder if the ghosts of his childhood are rearing their ugly heads. I can’t even express how hearing about his sex life makes me feel, but seeing the fear in his eyes makes me want to take his hand and tell him it will be okay. With the detective’s cool eyes shifting between Jasper and I though, I do nothing.

“Moving on, the other person that was with you and the victim was a female? Is that correct?”

“Yes.”

“And what was her name?”

Jasper runs a hand through his wet hair. “I don’t know. I called her Blue.”

Hand jotting something down, the detective looks up. “You don’t know? You were with her at the unveiling of the Storm and then later at the party at the Marriott and you don’t know her name?”

“That’s right. I never bothered to ask her name. Formalities weren’t what the encounter was about.”

The detective scratches his head. “What exactly do you mean by ‘encounter’?”

Jasper sighs. “Hookup. One-night stand. Whatever you want to call it. Sharing personal information didn’t seem necessary. She had blue streaks in her hair and I just called her Blue.”

My skin prickles and I try not to blanch. Jasper doesn’t look at me even once, but I’m certain he must feel my stare. It’s hard not to feel sick, but Jasper’s life is his own. Jake sits down beside me, hands rubbing back and forth on his jeans. When he looks at me, all the malice and contempt that had been in his eyes just minutes earlier is completely gone, replaced with a concern for his friend that we both share.

“I see, but she must have known your name?”

“I’m not sure.”

“You were onstage. Your name was announced. You’d given a speech. Everyone at that unveiling would know your name.”

“Yes, I assume she knew who I was.”

The detective stands up straighter. “And the victim? Did you know her name before yesterday?”

Jasper chews nervously on his lower lip. “No. We didn’t meet until much later that night, and names weren’t what the conversation was about.”

“And when,” the detective looks down, “Blue introduced you without names being exchanged, that was the first time you ever saw the victim?”

There’s a moment of silence before Jasper says, “Yes. Well, no. I found out later that we went to the same college and I had met her there once.”

“So you did know her?”

“No, I didn’t.”

“But you just said you met her?”

“We hooked up once, but I don’t even really remember her.”

Detective Hill uses one hand to hold his pad while the other is scribbling something on it. When he’s done, he starts pacing the room. At first only in front of the three of us sitting on the sofa; then he widens his path and ends up in the corner near the floor-to-ceiling windows.

My heart flutters like a trapped bird.

He’s purposely trying to make us all nervous.

And succeeding.

Innocent until proven guilty.

Innocent until proven guilty—that’s the way the law works.

Yet, in this town, I know all too well that guilty is an easy verdict rendered even when you’re not in court. My father is the perfect example. A man who tried to return home only to be so unwelcomed that he was forced to move away forever.