Plagiarized (21 page)

“Oh my God, Sage!” Krista squealed. “You made it!”

“What do you mean, I made it?”

“New York Times! You’re on the list!”

She turned the screen to me and right there, in black and white, number ten was
R.I.P.
by Author S. Roby. I couldn’t believe it and started to scream with her. We were jumping up and down together, hugging. It was weird how one good event could change the circumstances, since she was the only one there, I was happy to hug her now. The screaming and carrying-on brought more attention to my table.

Someone must have overheard, because in a matter of a few minutes, I was being congratulated by everyone around me. I had completely blocked Krista out as I took in the additional attention I was getting. It was a dream come true. Even though I knew I would make it, it still felt amazing. I felt on top of the world. That was until Krista started tapping on my arm.

“What?” I asked with heavy irritation.

Her face was white as she looked up at me from the screen. I looked over and noticed she had a news article on the screen. I had totally forgotten about her looking up these rumors of my book being a true story. I watched as she swallowed hard and then turned her eyes back to the iPad. I wanted to ask again what she had wanted, but then she started reading aloud.

“Here’s an article from about twelve years ago, but it seems like it is in the press again due to your book. ‘Professor Bradley Camron of Westbridge University was found dead in his apartment last night. An anonymous call alerted authorities of his body. As of right now, it is undetermined the cause of death.’ Now the press is having a field day with the comparisons between the murder and your book.” She stopped reading and looked at me. Before I could say anything, she started speaking again. “There’s more.”

“What do you mean, there’s more?” My heart was pounding in my chest so hard I could barely hear anything else over it.

“Sage, there are more news articles about this man and his death, and they are identical to your book.” Her eyes were wide on her face as she stared back at me. I had nothing to say as I sat down in my chair with my mouth gaping, trying to digest everything she was telling me. People were still fluttering around me but I couldn’t focus. Nothing made sense as my world began to spin around me.

“Excuse me, are you Sage Roby?” I heard a male voice from the front of my table.

I ignored him, focusing solely on Krista in front of me and the iPad I had grabbed from her.

“Excuse me,” he repeated again.

That was when Krista looked in the direction of the voice. Her eyes grew even larger and her mouth became unhinged from her jaw. Something inside of me screamed danger. It screamed for me to not look at the man. It warned me. Ironically, that voice had been mute up until that point. Not once did it decide to speak up the entire time I dug myself into that hole. No. It remained silent until that point. And I wished I had listened to it.

I turned my head and looked at the man standing in front of me. In the blurry vision around him, I noticed masses of people crowding around, gawking at the scene. Staring at the man dressed in black dress-pants and a white oxford shirt. He was handsome and definitely someone I would have eye-fucked, all the way up until he showed me his police badge.

Fuck!

My first instinct was to run. Every fiber of my being urged me to do it and it took everything I had not to bolt. Deep down, I knew that wouldn’t be in my best interest. After all, I didn’t have anything to hide; I had done nothing wrong. I hadn’t killed anyone. Of course, I had imagined killing someone when angry or pushed to the limit, but actually carrying out that thought, never.

“Sage,” Krista’s whisper brought me back to the present.

I looked back up into the handsome detective’s face again. I forced myself to be calm, even though I was anything but. I tried to block out the numerous people that now surrounded us, all trying to figure out what the hell was going on. I was thankful that the detective wasn’t in a uniform and didn’t seem to be cuffing me. My leaving with him was already going to cause quite a stir.

“I’m Sage Roby,” I finally managed to croak out to the man in front of me.

“Jeff Prowl, Homicide Detective. I need you to come with me,” he said quietly but not lacking authority. I appreciated his approach, for not causing more attention to the already eye-catching scene. In all reality, he could have been an ass and come in here guns a blazing.

“Do I have to?”

“Yes, ma’am. I’m afraid you do.”

I winced at his usage of the word ma’am. I was a Miss, not a ma’am. I was too young to be a ma’am. I quickly gathered my purse and looked at Krista for help.

“What do you want me to do?” she asked me quietly so the fans didn’t hear.

“I’m sorry to leave you like this. Can you pack up for me?”

She nodded.

“Thank you. I’ll be in touch.” And with that, I was off following the detective through the parted sea of readers whose only care in the world was anticipating their next autograph.

Once we were outside in the parking lot, I noticed that the weather had turned and it had started to drizzle. It was ironic since it matched my mood. Happy and cheery when I arrived, and now down in the dumps, my surroundings drastically changed.

“I have my car—”

“You can follow me. You aren’t under arrest; I’m just bringing you in for questioning. As long as you come in without resisting, things will continue to go nicely. I’m using an interview room at the police station just a couple miles down the road.”

He hadn’t cracked a smile since he had introduced himself and I wondered if he ever would. I was intimidated by him and the questions he was planning to ask me. I didn’t know anything; what was he hoping to gain from my interview? I didn’t even know what I had written about was a true story. I felt my finger itch to call Missy once I was in the safety of my car, but knew my moves were probably already being monitored. I didn’t want to make myself look remotely guilty.

So I didn’t call anyone using my cell phone. I hoped I would be on my way home in no time. Maybe I could even come back to the signing and continue running my table. I already had two or three text messages from Krista asking what was going on. I just ignored them. I needed to concentrate on following the handsome detective to the interview location.

By the time we reached the station, I was convinced that this was merely a formality and I would soon be released. I was so sure about it, I texted Krista and told her I would be returning soon.

We entered the station and I squared my shoulders, following the detective into an interview room.

“Would you like anything to drink?” he asked politely and pointed to one of the two metal chairs for me to have a seat. The interrogation room looked just like you would imagine it would. Just like on TV. I held back my chuckle as I shook my head and sat down. “Something funny, Mrs. Roby?”

I quickly shook my head again and then sat very still.

He sat down across from me and opened a file that I hadn’t noticed he had been carrying. There were pictures, gruesome pictures that included blood and serious wounds. I looked away, not wanting to see any more.

“How did you know Professor Bradley Camron?”

“I don’t.”

“Come on, Mrs. Roby. This will be much easier if you admit to things right off the bat. I really don’t want to go round and round with you. It’s obvious you knew him.”

I shook my head adamantly. “I did not.”

“Here’s a picture of him, let’s see if this jogs your memory.” He snaps the pages in the file until he comes to a picture of a man. The picture is years old, you could tell from the yellowing that tinged the sides and corners.

I studied the picture, unsure of what to say. I did know the man in the photo, but if I admitted that, would it automatically make me a murderer? “Shouldn’t I be allowed an attorney?”

“You’re not under arrest. You don’t need one…
yet
. But if it’d make you more comfortable, then sure, call a lawyer. But just know, Mrs. Roby, they take time to get here, and once you ask for one, I’m not allowed to speak to you until he gets here. I guess it all comes down to how precious your time really is.”

I shook my head and felt my eyes fill with tears. I felt as if I was already being tried and convicted, even though he had only asked me one question. I didn’t think I would make it through the entire interview.

“Do you want an attorney?” he asked me gruffly.

“No,” I said quietly. “I do know this man. I swear, I didn’t when you first mentioned his name. But now that I see his picture, I remember where I knew him from. He was a long-term substitute teacher in my high school, over twelve years ago. I haven’t seen him since graduation.”

“You didn’t have a relationship with him?”

“No.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure.”

“Did you have sex with him?”

“No.”

“Did he fuck you?”

“Isn’t that the same thing? My answer is still no.”

“Did you see him outside of the school?”

I thought about that for a minute. Had I seen him outside of school? I knew Missy had and was starting to wonder how Missy fit into all of this. I definitely had a bone to pick with her, but didn’t know how much to tell this detective. I was all for saving my own ass at the moment. “No,” I finally answered.

“What kinds of interactions did you have with him?”

“The normal kind, I suppose. The normal student, teacher relationship.”

“Normal like the relationship you’re having with your student right now?” He smirked.

I shook my head and held my ground. “No, I never saw Mr. Camron outside of school. He wasn’t interested in me that way. He was already seeing another student.”

“Really? And who was that?” he arched his eyebrow in question and I knew he already knew the answer.

“Missy Ludington.”

“That’s funny; Missy says that you had a relationship with Bradley Camron. She says that you had a secret sexual relationship with him and had even asked her about throwaway phones. Is that true?”

I gawked at him. I was going to kill her. How dare she throw me under the bus and blame this on me. This wasn’t just a ‘she took my apple’ kind of blame, either. This was serious, like life in prison kind of serious. I was going to
kill
her. Well, not really kill. “I never had a secret relationship with him, ever. I already told you I didn’t have a relationship of any kind with him. I stand by that statement.” I couldn’t believe this was happening. I didn’t elaborate on the throwaway phones and part of me hoped he would forget about that itsy bitsy question.

“And the phone?”

No luck!
“I did ask her about pre-paid phones but it was solely for research for my book. That’s it.” I got up and started to pace. I had all this pent up energy and nowhere to expend it. I felt like I was going insane; the situation I had been thrust into was completely unfair.

Fucking Missy!

“I find that hard to believe. What else I find hard to believe is how detailed you were able to write the murder scene in your book, which I’ve read by the way. I was a rookie cop when Professor Camron died, and it was the first murder scene I was called to. This case means a lot to me, obviously. I know it like the back of my hand, which is how I know for certain that it was you inside Bradley Camron’s apartment that night. So, why don’t you tell me how were you able to get the details so accurate?”

Well, if Missy had no problems throwing me under the bus, I certainly wouldn’t lose sleep at night for hawking her body under an eighteen-wheeler. “Missy Ludington. She helped me write the book. Actually, it was her idea to begin with. The entire plot was her idea. And then once I started writing it, she helped me. She’s the one who told me exactly how to write that scene.” For once in my life, I had told the truth.

A sadistic smile rose on the man’s face. It made me shiver.

“So you expect me to believe that you stole your best friend’s idea for a book, and then she willingly helped you write it, based on the stolen idea? I know if someone plagiarized my idea for something, I wouldn’t give them anything, let alone help them write an entire book.”

I sat back down in the cold metal chair and rested my head in my hands. I had to think. I knew there had to have been something that I could use to prove what I was saying. I lifted by head up with wide-eyes and began to speak, “We went out to eat several times to discuss it. I’m sure there are receipts that could prove that.” I stared at him from across the table with pleading eyes.

“I’m sure they would prove you had dinner. Not quite sure how you think that would prove that your friend committed a murder and then gave you the details to write
her
confession. But if you want me to waste my time looking up proof that you had dinner with your friend, then sure. I’ll look it up, right after I have you in a holding cell awaiting an arrest warrant.”

Fuck! Shit! Dammit! Fucking asshole motherfuckers!

He slowly closed his folder and stood up. “If you’ll excuse me, I am quite thirsty. Are you sure you don’t want anything?”

I shook my head, not looking at him. All I could focus on was the metal table in front of me.

“Okay then, I’ll be back in a few.” And with that, he left.

Once the door clicked closed, I opened my eyes and realized he had left the folder enticingly sitting there on the table. Part of me wanted to look inside. I wanted to see the details of the scene to compare it to my book. I hadn’t known my old teacher had died, let alone been murdered. I never paid attention to the news. Unless it had something to do with a Kardashian, then I was all over it. But if it wasn’t
E! News
, I wasn’t interested. Tom was always the one that knew what was going on in the world around us; I never gave two shits about it. The news was sad and depressing, why would I care to watch it every day? The other part of me couldn’t stand to see the bloody images I had glimpsed at upon entering the room again. Once had been enough. It almost made me laugh at myself. I had written an entire scene describing the blood and fight, yet looking at the reality of the act itself made me queasy. How ironic is that?

The detective had been gone for so long I started to wonder if he went to Colombia to fetch his own fucking coffee beans and then processed it himself. There was no way it would take that long to simply get something to drink. I eventually placed my head on the table and closed my eyes. My energy had been drained from me while sitting in that sterile room and waiting for what felt like an eternity.

Everything seemed to hit me all at once and I started to feel myself drift off.

The door opened and then closed with a loud bang, making me jump and immediately waking me from my unexpected sleep.

The detective sat back down in from of me with his Styrofoam cup. He flipped the folder back open without even a glance in my direction. It was as if I wasn’t even in the room with him.

Was I still dreaming? Was all of this just a dream and I would wake up in Craig’s arms? God, how I wished that to be true. I suddenly wanted to be in his arms at the moment. I had never wanted a man’s comfort as much as I yearned for his at that moment.

He sipped his coffee and kept perusing the file, not once looking at me. What the fuck? I wanted to shout at him that I was right here, but kept my mouth glued shut in a firm thin line.

“Okay, let’s go over this again. You say you never had a relationship with Professor Camron outside of school.” It wasn’t a question, just a simple statement.