Plagiarized (22 page)

I exhaled a breath of frustration. This would obviously take a while. “That’s correct.”

“And so you never met with him after he moved away to teach at Westbridge University?”

“Correct again.” I wanted to make a snide comment, but bit it back, knowing it wouldn’t help my dire situation.

“But you did visit your friend Missy at the university, correct?” His eyes finally met mine and he had a confident smile on his lips.

Damn it all to hell. “Yes, I did a few times. But only a few and it was only for a weekend each time. I only met with Missy, I never saw Professor Camron,” I defended.

“Your character, Sarah, she was raised by her very strict grandparents and single mother,” he stated and I nodded. “And you were raised the same way?”

“Yes. Writers tend to write what they know because it makes it more real to the readers.”

“You mean like writing a murder scene?”

“No!” I shouted. “That’s not what I mean. I just meant my characters.”

“Okay, back to Sarah. She had a sister that was impregnated at a young age, fifteen, if I remember correctly?”

Where the hell was he going with this? “Yes, that’s correct.”

“And your sister, didn’t she also have a baby at fifteen?”

I nodded. I couldn’t even answer verbally any longer.

“So it seems as though Sarah is you.” He held up his hand and ticked off the points on his fingers, one by one. “She had a substitute teacher, Mr. Champion, who left to go teach at a college a few hours away. You had a substitute teacher, Mr. Camron, who left to teach at a college a few hours away from you as well. Wow, this is some pretty compelling coincidences, Mrs. Roby. It’s like I’m reading the exact story of your life.”

My stomach was twisted into knots, growing tighter and tighter with each comparison he made. Why had I named Ben so fucking close to Mr. Camron’s name? Why had I made the details so damn close when I hadn’t even remembered the man until his picture was shoved in my face? That’s when I remembered listening to Missy tell me about her idea for the book she had wanted to write.

“Why don’t you tell me some ideas and I’ll tell you if they will sell or not. I read a ton, so I’m pretty good at predicting bestsellers,” I had asked her, not really thinking she had much of anything and wanted to seem like a caring friend.

“Well, my idea is about a girl that has a secret relationship with her teacher in high school.”

Student-teacher books are so cliché and played out. I had almost stopped listening, but then something she said caught my attention.

“He was her substitute teacher in high school, Mr. Champion, and then left to teach at a college. She followed him there and took his class. That’s when their love affair really started. Before, they were just fucking, but once she was in college, they began to fall in love. But one day, she caught him cheating and he died… she kill–killed him.”

That right there was it. Missy had given it all to me verbatim, more than I had even originally thought. She was the one that had come up with his name, and I must have subconsciously used it. The murder scene was written exactly as she had told me her idea. It was all Missy.

Missy had followed Mr. Camron to college.

I felt my mouth fall open as the realization that my friend, the girl I had known since I was twelve years old had killed a man. She murdered someone and then orchestrated this entire book, writing things to blame it on me. Granted, she didn’t tell me to write her book for her and she didn’t even know I had stolen her idea until nearly the end. So what was her motive? Why would she do that to me?

“I didn’t do it. I swear to you, it wasn’t me. It was Missy Ludington. She was sleeping with Mr. Camron. She had followed him to school. It was her.” The words flew from my mouth as the tears fell from my eyes. They were genuine tears, probably the most honest emotion I had ever felt or shown.

My life was ending and as much as I wanted to blame it all on Missy, I knew I couldn’t. Yes, she had set me up in the end, but it was my choice to take her book idea. Regardless of who was the one ultimately to blame, it was still all her fault. She was the one letting me take the fall for a crime she committed.

It wasn’t like the punishment for murder was a slap on the wrist. I was looking at years behind bars. Possibly a lifetime. I couldn’t survive in jail. I couldn’t live the rest of my life as someone’s bitch. Those thoughts made the tears flow faster. It made me hyperventilate and panic. What the hell would I do if no one believed me?

“We have already checked her out. She’s clear. She has an alibi for the night Mr. Camron’s body was discovered. Which brings me to this. Where were you on the night, March 15, 2003, between the hours of six and nine PM?”

“Are you fucking kidding me right now?” My voice raised to a shout.

“Please, Mrs. Roby, keep your voice down.”

I ignored his irritating plea and continued. “That was twelve fucking years ago. How the hell am I supposed to remember where I was or what I was doing that night, that one specific night during those specific hours?”

“So are you saying you don’t have an alibi?”

I scoffed and rolled my eyes. “Where were you on that night between the hours of six and nine?”

“I was working. And then during the hours of nine and midnight, I was at your ex-boyfriend’s apartment combing through a horrific crime scene. The very same apartment and crime scene you cleaned up and then fled from.”

“Am I done here?” I asked and stood from my chair.

“I still have a few more questions.”

“Well, if I’m not under arrest, then I am leaving.”

He smiled and raised from his seat, facing me. He stood about a foot taller than me and peered down with only the table between us. There was something about his smile that sent chills up and down my entire body, and not the good kind. The kind that set a deep worry and fear churning inside.

“Then by all means, you are free to leave. I will get the answers to my questions without your help. If you’re not a religious person, you might want to start believing in something omnipotent and beg for help. You’re going to need any advantage you can find if you want the answers I seek to be in your favor.”

I couldn’t move. I was literally frozen in place in fear. For the words he had just uttered caused irrevocable terror to stream through my body. I felt like my subconscious was in battle within, fighting because I wasn’t sure what to do in this instant, should I stay or leave? I knew if I stayed, I would be asked the same questions over and over again, I would be driven to a point where I would want to pull my hair out, for I only had the same answers to give.

The detective was asking me things from twelve years earlier, twelve fucking years! Who would remember a day, any day, plucked from twelve years ago? It was asinine! Besides that, I smoked way too much pot to remember anything for longer than a week at a time. Staying here without having definitive answers to his questions would only make me look guiltier. Even though it seemed, based on the evidence he had collected, I had already been deemed guilty in his eyes. The way he had looked at me and addressed me during the questioning didn’t leave a doubt in my mind that he had already tried and convicted me for this murder. However, he had said that he was going to work to find additional answers on his own. But I knew he was more than likely to find answers that would fit his agenda and not be in my best interest. He was looking to pin this unsolved murder on me, and I was sure he would stop at nothing until he made the puzzle pieces fit. No matter what stones he had to upturn to accomplish his goal, he would make the fucking puzzle pieces fit to match the outcome he wanted.

I finally decided to leave, taking my chances to research this on my own. I knew I had to talk to Missy. I needed answers. I had to confront her and couldn’t wait any longer. I gave the detective a smile, trying my best to mimic the self-assured one that was smeared on his face, and walked past him to the door. I walked out, without glancing back. He needed answers, well so did I. He had questions, I did too.

Game on, Detective Prowl. Let’s see who finds the right answers first.

I drove back to the hotel where the signing was being held. I knew I had to go back to keep everyone from talking, but the thought of walking back in and facing everyone had me in a near panic. I ended up sitting in my car in the hotel parking lot, crying for half an hour. I had tried calling Craig a couple times but he didn’t answer. He usually answered my calls after one ring, but I knew he was busy with his family. I had only hoped he would take a few minutes out of his time to answer my call. I guess that was too much to ask.

As I sat behind my steering wheel, I stared at Keegen’s name under my contact list. I wanted to call him and tell him about Missy. I wanted to be the one to tell him first before she had a chance to spin this awful tale in her favor. But I knew I couldn’t. I had to talk to Missy first. I had to confront her before telling anyone. And I couldn’t do that over the phone.

My plan was to go back in the signing and act as if everything was fine. I couldn’t let on that what had transpired earlier was serious. Then, once the signing was over, I would pack up my things and head home to begin my investigation. Missy would be my first stop and I would have a two-hour drive to figure out the best approach to use on her.

I can do this, I chanted over and over to myself as I began to walk toward the hotel entrance. I was a master at manipulating things and people. After all, I had done it my entire life, this would be no different. Once I had myself persuaded of that, I was able to enter the ballroom with confidence, my shoulders were squared back and my head was held high.

All eyes were on me as I walked through the room. I had built my entrance to the signing up in my mind, I had convinced myself that all conversations would stop and everyone would stare at me as I made my way back to my table. It didn’t happen that way. I hadn’t realized, until that moment, just how long I had been detained at the station. The room that had been bustling with people as I left was now winding down. It wasn’t empty by any stretch of the imagination, but it was clear that the end was imminent.

That thought sent a shiver up my spine. Was this an omen to my life? That the end was near?

I shook my head to clear it. No. I wouldn’t allow it. Missy would have to answer me and the truth would be seen.

“What happened?” I was asked over and over again as I made my way to my table.

I simply answered with, “They just needed help with an investigation,” but other than that, I kept my mouth closed. I wasn’t going to talk to anyone before Missy. I just kept the smile on my face and hoped my presence there was enough to prove my innocence. I mean, if I had been guilty, I would have been in handcuffs and fingerprinted, right? If I had been guilty, I would have already been convicted and sentenced to life behind bars. I’m sure my freedom proved I had nothing to do with some murder that had happened over a decade earlier.

“Oh my God, Sage. You’re out of books. We ran out like two hours ago.”

I was torn between two emotions. The first, of course, excitement. Sold out? That’s fucking crazy! But the second emotion was rage. That was the one I chose to go with as I responded to Krista. “How the hell did they get them signed? Did you sign them? You better not have, Krista, or I swear to—”

“Relax, Sage,” she calmly stated as she approached me with caution. “They each gave me their contact information and gladly paid extra money for shipping. You can sign the books, with a personal message and mail them to the recipient. I also have a list of additional books you sold, so you’ll have to order more. Isn’t that fantastic? I told everyone that asked that you had to help clear up some things and that if you weren’t back before they left, you would be happy to sign them and mail the book to them.”

The anger fled from my system as I heard her very reasonable explanation. “I’m so sorry, Krista. It’s been a long and taxing day. Thank you so much for all of your help.”
Did I just say that? Yes, I’m pretty sure I had
. I must’ve had too much on my mind and not thinking clearly. But she did help me in my absence; I’d give her that. I gave her a smile and sat down next to her.

“Check your sales, though. Anyone that came to the table after the books were gone, I gave them the link for the e-book on Amazon. I’m dying to know how many you’ve sold.”

Her excitement rubbed off on me. I was ready to put Detective Prowl and the entire Mr. Camron mess behind me for a while to bask in my sales at the very least. I wanted to enjoy my first signing and the success it had miraculously been, even in my absence.

I opened the browser on my iPad and quickly logged in to check my sales. I was floored to see that in only a few hours’ time, I had reached number one on Amazon in all paid books. I couldn’t believe it. All I could do was stare at the screen in awe.

Missy fucking Ludington may have tried to sabotage me with both the book and with Keegen, but she wouldn’t win. I reached bestseller status, sold out paperbacks when I wasn’t even in the building to sign them, and would no doubt make news headlines due to my insurmountable numbers in sales. But Missy was going to be in for the surprise of her lifetime, she wouldn’t win by letting me take the fall for her crime. I would prove my innocence and concurrently her guilt. No one would take me down, least of all Missy fucking Ludington.

The room began to grow quieter and quieter over the next hour until finally, everyone had left. It was amazing how much attention I was receiving, even in just the last hour of the show. Most were asking me about the real life crime and I played it up. I told them about how a friend of mine wanted her story told. She needed the truth to come out about his death, and I was only a willing participant of getting that story out. They ate it up. “Taking Candy From A Baby” played on repeat in my head the entire time. I fucking loved that song. It was definitely the soundtrack of my life. When the time came to make a movie about my book, I would make sure that the song would play during the closing credits.

The cleanup was easy—well, for me it was. Krista did it all. I may have walked back in to the room after leaving the station feeling gloomy, but I was walking out feeling on top of the world, it was as it I was walking literally on air. Nothing was going to bring me down. Nothing.

Krista helped me load everything back into my car. It wasn’t much since I was only leaving with my banner and table things. All of my swag was gone. My trunk may have been lighter on my way back home, but my bank account surely wasn’t. I could practically hear the money rolling in as I took off on my drive back home. On my drive, I tried to keep tallying my sales and imagine what my next royalty check would look like, but I sucked at math so I soon gave up.

I didn’t go straight home—to mine or Craig’s. I went to pay my friend Missy a visit.

Technically, the first place I went to was the bar Keegen worked at. As soon as I saw his car in the back parking lot, I knew Missy would be at her house alone. After confirming that little important factoid, I made my way to her place. Seeing her car in the spot assigned to her made the adrenaline pump hard and fast through my veins. No longer was I the worried girl from the police station interrogation room. No. I was the angry woman seeking answers from a maliciously vindictive liar.

Game on, bitch.

I knocked on her door with authority, but made sure to stand to the side in case she checked her peephole. She was a fucking coward and wouldn’t have answered the door had she seen me, I knew that much. If she weren’t a coward, she would have never pinned her crimes on me.

After a few seconds, she flicked the porch light on outside of her front door and then finally opened it.

“Hello,
friend
.” I emphasized and dragged out the word friend, letting her know that the gig was up. She didn’t need to play nice with me, because I most certainly wasn’t in the mood for niceties. I was in the mood for blood. Hers in particular.

“Sage.” Just my name, that’s all she said before stepping back and opening the door wider to allow room for me to enter. Really? That’s all I got was just my name? I had a feeling it would end up being a one-player game and that only fueled my anger.

I walked in, eyeing her as I passed. Her facial expressions remained still, calm, and relaxed, but her hand is what gave her away. As she closed the door behind me, I noticed the unsteady shaking from her wrist to her fingertips.
Good. Be nervous, bitch. Be very nervous
.

“Would you care to explain yourself?” I asked, crossing my arms, clearly sending her the message that I wasn’t in the mood to play cat and mouse. Even if I was, she wouldn’t have been able to get very far. I was more in the mood to hang her up by her mousey little tail as I took swipes at her with my big paw.

“Explain what?” Her wide-eyes, trying to imitate innocence, met mine. I was surprised by the many changing emotions that were evident in her eyes. Then her arms crossed, mimicking mine, as if she was saying,
game on
.

What the fuck? Her hand was no longer shaking, and the timid expression that had been on her face as I entered was long gone. In its place was a stone cold and stoic one that had my adrenaline threatening to run and hide.

“Don’t play games with me. I had a nice chat with a Detective Prowl today at the station. Yup, he came and pulled me right out of my signing and felt the need to throw accusations at me about some murder I had no idea even took place. I want answers, dammit!”

“Fine. You want answers? I’ll give you answers. Let’s start with your phone.” She held out a steady hand in front of me, palm side up, as if she were expecting me to hand her something.

“I don’t understand.”

“Give me your phone. You said you want answers and I’ll give them to you. After I see your phone.”

Bewildered, I pulled my phone from my back pocket and placed it in her hand. She turned it to face her and then began pressing the power button. I heard the sound of it powering off before she stuck it in her pocket. What in the hell was going on?

“Yes. I was having a relationship with Bradley Camron. It started in high school, but it’s not what you think. That book wasn’t supposed to be written. You were never supposed to write it.”

“What the fuck, Missy?” I lashed out, throwing my arms up in the air.

“Will you just listen to me? Nothing that has happened since I came back home was planned. Not Keegen, not the book, and definitely not Brad’s case being re-opened.”

“You blamed it all on me!”

“That’s not what happened. I was asked some questions and I answered them the best way I could. I didn’t realize until after they were gone that they weren’t looking at me for it. They were looking at you. I had no idea. I swear.”

She was fucking crazy if she thought I would believe her lies.

“What the hell do you think I’ve gotten out of this? You have the fame and fortune… what the hell do I have, Sage? Huh? Answer me that.” Tears were streaming down her face and it almost made her emotions seem realistic and her story more plausible. Except I had known her for most of my life. I could still remember the way she could turn on the waterworks to get her way when it came to her mom or the principal. The moment I started to believe her, I only had to think of all the times she had gotten away with murder—no pun intended—by shedding a few tears.

“For starters, you’re not facing jail time for killing a man. Not to mention, you have Keegen.”

“Yeah, a man in love with another woman. I won a real fucking prize there.”

I was about to say something else when my mind started spinning at her confession. Was she telling me that Keegen was in love with me? It made me giddy to think, even for a moment, that she was with a man that was pining after me. It was definitely an ego booster. But did I care if Keegen was in love with me? Did it matter anymore?

Stop it, Sage. Focus! Dead man. Phony best friend shuffling the blame onto you
.

“Regardless, you killed a man and will be living free while I, on the other hand, will be sentenced to a life behind bars. Does it really matter that your boyfriend doesn’t love you? At least you have someone to hold you at night and fuck your brains out on a whim. I won’t have that luxury, unless Big Bertha finds me worthy of her attention.” I had lost it. It was official. I was certifiably insane. The thought of Big Bertha had me cackling in the still room.

Missy just stood there, staring at me in wonderment. I could tell she was at a loss of what to do, how to act, or what to say. The more I looked at her frightened face, the more I laughed. The more I laughed, the more heinously psychotic it sounded.