Plagiarized (25 page)

The room started spinning and turning dark. The more coincidences he pointed out and the more pictures he shoved in my face, the worse it began to look. Even I started questioning my own guilt, which was ludicrous. I knew the truth.

“You wrote about his beige colored carpet,” he continued. “And what a coincidence, Bradley Camron also had beige carpet. Actually, I wouldn’t call that a coincidence. I would call that a confession.”

“I told you, I got all of that stuff from Missy Ludington. She is the one that told me all of those things. I only wrote what she told me to write,” I cried, pleading for him to hear me. I was telling the truth, dammit! This time I really was!

Mr. Coppenhagen tried to get me to stop talking, but I wouldn’t listen to him. I had to defend myself; he wasn’t doing much defending. If anyone were going to prove my innocence, it would have to be me. I wasn’t going to stop talking until everyone knew I hadn’t killed Mr. Camron. It was Missy!

“She confessed to me the other night! She said she went to confront him after she caught him with another woman that morning. She said she shoved him and then fell with him as she tried to catch him. She told me everything!” I was hysterically crying by that point, tears streaming down my face and my voice coming out in panic-stricken sobs. I saw my life slip before my eyes, my freedom slowly disappearing.

Detective Prowl leaned back in his chair with an evil grin on his face. He looked satisfied, as if he had just received an award winning blowjob from under the table. What the hell was he smiling about? There was nothing funny about what I had said.

“Thank you for admitting that, Mrs. Roby. You see, in an investigation, there are things we do not release to the public. There are things we keep hidden so that when we have a person of interest it makes my job easier to prove their guilt without the excuse of them hearing about the details in the news. You see, one of those hidden pieces of evidence is the fact that Mr. Camron didn’t just fall into that corner. The autopsy showed that there was force behind the fall, beyond that of an initial shove. It’s called centripetal force. It was proven that his body hadn’t merely fallen onto the corner of the table; there had been added pressure behind the fall, propelling his head backward. So, thank you for proving that.”

I was confused. Was he being sincere? Was he really thanking me for telling him that?

“Exactly. And that’s what Missy told me the other night. So that proves everything you need. You see now who is at fault?”

“Oh yes, I see it so clearly it’s like I just watched it happen. And because of your confession, it makes it all that much easier to prove in court that you were in fact the one that murdered Bradley Camron.”

“NO! I didn’t do it! I just told you that it was Missy!” I shouted, standing again.

Detective Prowl stood as well, leaning over the table on his hands and getting so close to my face I could feel his warm breath on my skin. “You keep saying it was your friend that did this, and claim yourself as the victim. Yet, you’re the one who wrote the book, you’re the one who had all of the details spelled out in black and white. You’re the one with detailed information that has never been released to the press. It’s your name on the cover of this confession to murder.”

“That’s enough.” Mr. Coppenhagen finally stood up. I wasn’t sure what he was being paid for since he hadn’t done much of anything other than let this detective walk all over me. “We came in here voluntarily to answer questions. I haven’t heard one question, and Mrs. Roby is done talking. If you’re not arresting her, we’re leaving.”

I stood there in shock, now he was going to defend me?
Thank you, Mr. Coppenhagen. Thank you for finally defending your client!

The detective backed away with a smile on his face before returning to his seat. Neither my attorney nor I sat back down. We continued to stand, watching my life end in front of us as if it was a movie and we had front row seats.

“As I’ve told you, the arrest warrant is being signed. You are not under arrest at this moment, but I can guarantee you that you will be within the week. I do have a plea deal for you to ponder from the DA. You have twenty-four hours to respond. The deal is for three years in a medium security prison in exchange for your guilty plea for tampering with evidence and fleeing the scene of a crime. It’s a favorable deal for you, so think about it. You have until tomorrow morning to make a decision. But I will tell you this, even if you decide not to take it, we will still be coming after you with a warrant. Not taking the plea deal does not mean you won’t be facing jail time.”

I looked quickly to Mr. Coppenhagen, trying to read his facial expressions, but there were none. His face was hard and stoic as he waited for the detective to finish his rant.

“It sounds to me that neither you nor your DA has enough evidence and you’re grasping at straws. If you thought you had the evidence to support the charges, you would have added manslaughter to that plea deal and tacked on a few more years,” my attorney finally spoke up. It made me smile knowing he was right. If they had something significant on me, they wouldn’t have offered me what Detective Prowl referred to as a favorable deal.

“This is a very tight-knit town. We stick together and protect our own. Not to mention, nothing sounds more pleasing to the folks here than a guilty verdict for a case that had gone cold. It’s what Mrs. Roby here would call a bestseller. It is justice twelve years later, and they will eat it up. But if you would rather wait and play it out in court, that’s your right. Although, once the evidence begins to pile up, you may be regretting it.”

“What evidence? It’s all circumstantial,” I asked against the silent wishes of my lawyer.

The detective snickered and placed his hands behind his head, making it look like he was lounging in his chair and enjoying a show. “For starters, you spelled out the murder in your book. Then, we have the additional information you gave here today”–he pointed to the blinking red light in the corner of the room, indicating the camera—“and the fact that you fell asleep during our last interview. You can deny all you want that the idea of the book wasn’t yours, since that seems to be your only defense, but let me tell you this—I’ve asked everyone in your life, and they all say that you have not once mentioned accepting any help from Miss Ludington. Not one person. Not even your husband. I would assume that you would’ve told him, since you wrote most of your scenes at night while lying next to him in bed. But he says that all you did was brag about the things you came up with while writing.

“To top it off, you had made several comments to people at your book signing about how you were just getting the truth out there with the book. Those are your words. I highly doubt your fancy lawyer can spin that in your favor. So, like I said, you are more than welcome to take your chances in court.” He leaned forward and snapped the folder closed.

The room fell silent as we all stared at each other.

“You’ll be hearing from us, Detective,” Mr. Coppenhagen said as he ushered me out of the room.

Once we were outside and reached his car, he finally turned to me to speak. “You fell asleep during an interrogation?” he accused gruffly.

I nodded, not understanding the impact of it.

“Do me a favor, if you ever find yourself in that situation again,
never
, under
any
circumstances, fall asleep.”

“I don’t understand. I was tired and stressed. I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”

“If you were truly innocent, you would have been too upset at being falsely accused to fall asleep.”

“I am truly innocent!” I cried.

“Then what is with him saying you told people you were just getting the truth out?”

“I said my friend wanted her story told,” I argued.

He rolled his neck and used his fingers to quote his words. “Friend.”

“What was I supposed to say?” Tears stung my eyes at what I was facing.

“Nothing! You say nothing!” he screamed.

I was so confused. No one had a book on how to act when facing a murder charge. There wasn’t a how-to book about what to say in situations like this. How was I supposed to know that putting my head down while waiting for the detective to come back, or answering questions from fans meant I was guilty?

We both got in the car and started our drive back home.

“You have so much against you, Sage. I’m not going to lie to you. The deal is enticing, but it is your call to make. You could take it and spend three years behind bars, or you can wait it out and take your chances in court. It’s up to you. But as your attorney, my advice is to think long and hard on this plea deal.”

“What do you think my chances are in court?”

He let out a long sigh and slowly shook his head. “Honestly? Not good. It’s kind of hard to argue your own words. I can argue accusations. I can even argue eyewitnesses. But I can’t argue against your own words, both from the book and things you’ve said. You specifically gave a piece of evidence today that has never been released. Only the killer would know that.”

“I know… but I was only repeating what Missy had told me.” I sat in the passenger seat and stared at the scenery as it passed by. I wouldn’t win; I already knew it. But it was in me to fight and that was what I would do until there was none left in me.

“You need to give up on this Missy theory—”

“It’s not a theory! It’s the truth.”

“Fine. Regardless, you need to give up on it. She has an alibi for that night. There is nothing that ties her to the victim other than he was her teacher. Her name is nowhere on that book. The prosecution will have your words to hold against you. They will have your book, the things you’ve told people, your friends and family. Not to mention, they will bring your character into question.”

“What do you mean my character? From the book?”

He let out another sigh of frustration and I watched his knuckles turn white on the steering wheel as he gripped it even harder.

“No. Not your make believe character, Sarah. I mean you, Sage, your character. You’ve posted pictures of a man that was not your husband, yet you called him your husband. When in fact, you were sleeping with him while married to another man. No… correction, you were sleeping with him and his younger brother while married. And not just any younger brother, but one of your students. Your entire social media life is a lie, Sage. That is what I mean by your character being under attack. It will make you look like a vindictive liar and the jury won’t believe anything you say.”

I silently cried in my seat next to him. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. I was literally hanging myself. All of my lies were coming down, crashing around me, and pulling me under. It didn’t matter that what I was saying was the truth; there was no reason for anyone to believe me after I repeatedly lied about everything.

I had meant no harm to anyone with my lies, yet I was the one being punished.

That was it. My life was over. I would be taking the fall for a crime I never committed.

I only hoped that when it was all said and done, I wouldn’t be left with nothing.

Mr. Coppenhagen dropped me back off at Craig’s house before leaving. He told me he expected to hear from me by morning with my final answer so he had something to tell the detective. I already knew what I would say, but needed time to get things in order.

When I got back to Craig’s I told him what had happened at the police station. I told him as if I were telling him of someone else’s life, like I was on the outside looking in. Craig’s face looked ashen as I numbly recanted the words spoken at the station. From the look on his face, it was hard to tell whom this was harder on, him or me.

After I updated Craig, it was time to talk to the next person on my list, Tom.

Craig knew where I was going; I didn’t lie to him about it. There was no point. He didn’t want me to go, but knew just as well as I did that it was something I needed to do. There were things to be said to one another and if I would be behind bars for three years, my time was running out.

We hadn’t spoken to each other since he left the house that fateful night when everything in my life had started to spiral out of control. There were a few text messages here and there regarding property that had to be split up, and assets, but other than that, no actual words. I was worried about how our meeting would go, but knew I had nothing to lose.

I promised Craig I would be back in time for dinner and then was on my way to Tom’s.

Tom wasn’t expecting me when he opened the door to find me standing on his front porch. I was surprised at his new house. It was smaller than I had imagined it would be. Then again, when we were married and purchased our home together, I had picked everything out. He wanted something more simplistic and cozy while I wanted something more grandeur to display our wealth, and so we had met in the middle.

“Sage, what are you doing here?” he asked as he reluctantly held the door open for me to enter.

I walked in to the foyer, assessing the décor and surprised by the feminine touches. If I hadn’t known better, I would have assumed he was living with a woman. But I did know better, and could accurately guess that he had paid a decorator. Tom was never one to decorate shit.

The door closing behind me startled me and brought me back to reality.

Some fucking reality, I thought to myself. There was never more of a time than now, where I wished for escape, but it was finally time for me to face my truth. It took me a minute because my first instinct was to lie.

“Sorry to barge in on you like this, but I have things I need to say.”

He nodded and led me to a sitting room. He sat on one loveseat and I took the other, facing him with a table between us. It was so formal, but then again, I guess that was how our life had ended up. I cheated on him and broke his heart; formal was the least I could ask for by that point.

“I don’t know what you know, about my current situation, but I will be gone for a few years. The DA has offered me a plea deal and I’m taking it. I have to admit to certain things, but I need for you to know that none of it is true. I never had anything to do with that man’s death. It’s important to me that you believe me on that.”

“I do believe you, Sage. I know you are capable of a lot of things, but murder isn’t one of them.”

“Then why didn’t you defend me when the police were questioning you?”

“They didn’t really ask me much. I answered what they asked; straightforward questions and none of the questions were about you killing a man. They asked me about your writing—where you did it, what you said about it, things like that. Not once did they ask about you or the murder. I didn’t even know what the charges were when they were asking their questions.

“But regardless, you’ve spun yourself a web of lies, Sage. I want nothing more than for you to get what you deserve—for what you did to me. You don’t deserve to go to jail for that. But you’re the one that has done nothing but lie, cheat, and steal. You’re the one that manipulated everyone in your life and expected to come out smelling like roses. I’m assuming that this is the penitence for that. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t want you to serve time behind bars. But there’s nothing I can do about that. It seems there’s nothing
you
can do about that.”

“What are you saying, Tom?” I asked, stunned at his words.

“I’m saying that I feel bad for what you’re going through, but I do not feel bad for you. You made your bed and now you must lie in it. Stop blaming everyone else for the unfortunate circumstance you’ve found yourself in. You had to have known that cheating on people, sleeping around, manipulating your friends, and stealing their ideas would one day come back to bite you. You are the only one to blame here. No one made you write Missy’s ideas and words. You did that. No one made you cheat on me and then tell people someone else was your husband. You did that. Now, you must take responsibility for the actions that put you here.”

“I’m sorry, Tom,” I sobbed and meant it. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. It was never my intention to hurt you or anyone else. I never stopped to think of how my actions were inflicting pain on others. I do know I’m to blame. I recognize that my actions have hurt many people along the way. I guess I just want your forgiveness before I turn myself in. I need to know that you don’t blame me anymore. I blame myself enough as it is.” And that was the truth. I had spent the entire afternoon blaming Missy for letting me take the fall. Blaming Tom for throwing me under the bus when he was questioned, thinking he did it out of malice. And blaming Keegen for not stepping up to the plate and doing the right thing by convincing Missy to come forward on my behalf. But it was Tom’s words that made me stop and take a deeper metaphorical look in the mirror. He was right. I set all the balls in motion. I was the only one to blame.

That realization nearly killed me.

“Forgive you? Sage, you don’t need my forgiveness. You need to forgive yourself. This has all happened because of you. You need to take the time to look within to realize what you’ve done and free yourself from it. I think this time alone to reflect may be good for you to prioritize things. Realize what’s truly important. Money and fame should not be at the top of that list. Forgive yourself and then maybe others might follow suit.”

He left me with plenty to think about as I drove blindly back to Craig. I felt as if I were on autopilot and in a numbing state. It was as if everything was suddenly made clearer to me and I knew I still had some things to make right.

Craig. What did he mean to me? Why was I with him? Was it the money? The sex? All of the superficial things that had landed me in the mess I was drowning in? Was it love? I didn’t know. All I knew was that I had never even been in love before to know what it felt like.

As I made my way through the gates of his house, I wondered how I would feel after three years. Would I still want to be driving to him? Would I still think of him first when I needed comforting? What if he lived in a tiny duplex? Would I still want him then?

I didn’t want to drag him along, but at the same time, I didn’t want to give him up. I didn’t know how I felt about him. All I knew was that I needed him. I needed him more than I had ever needed anyone else. I wanted him at that moment. And I could only hope that he would still want me after three years apart.

I didn’t need to knock on the door. He was there, standing in the open front door, waiting on me. His expression matched my mood—lost and sad. I wanted to make it better for him but didn’t know how. I wanted to comfort him, but couldn’t find the strength. Instead, I fell into his chest as he wrapped me in his strong and safe arms. The tears let loose as my body became wracked with all the sobs I’d been holding back, trying to stay strong.

He carried me upstairs and laid me gently on his bed. He leaned over me and looked me straight in the eyes. “We’ll get through this, Sage. I promise you. I couldn’t save you before, but you have me now. I will do everything in my power to save you from here on out.”

I held his face in my hands, feeling his short scruff against my palms. He may have been only eighteen, but he was more man than I deserved. His eyes pierced mine as I looked into them. I could see his soul and knew he was seeing mine, too. My renewed soul. I belonged there. I may not have deserved to, but I belonged there.

“What will happen to us while I’m gone?”

He smirked, lightening the mood. “Baby, I’m going to be getting groomed to take over a company. I will be a very busy man. If you think for one second that I will be out, finding someone to fill your shoes, you need to think again. I will be staying busy with my grandfather, doing everything he needs me to do to take over. And once I’m done with that, I’m driving to that jailhouse and taking you home.”

I choked back a sob and asked, “Will you still want me then?”

“Want you?” he asked with raised eyebrows. “Baby, I will never
not
want you. I want to marry you. I want to fill you with my come and watch your belly grow with my babies. I want to make a home with you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I want to fuck you all the way up until I take my last breath, and no amount of time will ever change that. Of course, I will still want you. I will always want you.”

I pulled his face to mine, meeting his mouth with my lips. Before I pressed further and fully kissed him, I whispered, “I love you, Craig. I fucking love you so damn much it hurts.” I was surprised at my own words as I heard them echo around me. I hadn’t been expecting to say them. I didn’t even know where they had come from. Yes, I did. They came from my heart. “But if I’m being honest, which I plan to do from now on, then I have to tell you the comment you just made about filling my belly with babies, just about made me have a panic attack.”

He laughed and pressed his lips harder on mine, opening his mouth slightly. “Then let me make it all better for you.”

I felt so intimate with him in that moment. I felt as if we had both bared our souls and had laid out everything on the table, which made me feel raw. Like an open wound, which he covered lovingly while allowing me to heal on my own, and also helping me realize that I deserved to be loved and be happy. I also deserved to not have to feel like I must always impress those around me. I don’t know when that started, but I knew that it was ending now.

He kissed me slowly, but no matter how slow the kiss was, it was deeper than ever. I felt like his kiss reached down into the deepest, darkest parts of my soul. His kiss was intoxicating and put me under his spell. I couldn’t believe he had evoked words of love from me. I couldn’t remember the last time I had said those three words to another human being. I couldn’t remember the last person I had loved, outside of family. I was majorly fucked up.

His kiss was different, less urgent. He took his time with this kiss, trying to get the most out of it. This situation was so fucked up, knowing that I was leaving in the morning for what felt like forever. Knowing that the clock was ticking down our time together should have made our movements frantic, but the deadline that had been thrust upon us had the opposite effect.

Craig made love to me. He worshipped my body with his mouth, tongue and hands. He made me feel so loved and worthwhile. It actually brought tears to my eyes. I could
feel
the love he had for me in his display of affection. He worshipped my body as if I were the only thing on the planet that mattered. The things he did to my body made me feel so treasured and cherished.

He licked down my chest, nibbling my nipples until they formed tight buds, then teasing them until they ached. He moved down my chest to my belly button and then lower. Once he reached the apex of my thighs, my body was already humming in need. While he had sucked my nipples one by one, nibbled my neck, and licked my chest down to my stomach, he had caused zings of pleasure that traveled down my body.

I thrust my pelvis, seeking his mouth, hoping that’s what he had planned. I needed to feel his mouth on me there. I burned so badly for him that I would have probably agreed to almost anything at that moment if he would just start sucking me. I held my breath, waiting for him to take me into his mouth. He held his face close to me so that I could feel the breaths that were coming out of him, which made my suffering that much greater.

I moaned and continued to beg with my hips, but he just sat there and stared.

“You are so beautiful. You have the most beautiful pussy that I’ve ever seen. It’s absolutely fucking perfect, like a peach that’s never been touched and isn’t marred. I could stare at it all fucking day, it’s so stunning.”