Bitter Kisses (It's Just High School #3) - Thandiwe Mpofu Page 0,87
saying is private and confidential!” Others? That man is a fucking piece of shit who should be rotting under a fucking prison! “Now, tell us one more time—"
“I already told you! Those fucking Matthews bastards ambushed Mia on her way to school, abducted her and then took her to some fucking shithole to torture and sexually assault her! She fought for her life! And now you want to pin murder on a girl who’s suffered so much trauma, she now has amnesia? You’ve got to be shitting me.”
The cops look at each other, then at Dad and Cole, then back at me.
“Actually, that’s not it at all. Miss Montague is not being pinned for murder.”
What the fuck is going on now?
“Then… what?”
“We just want the truth.”
“I just told you the fucking truth!” I snap, breathing hard and fast. I’m pretty sure I now have high blood pressure. I wouldn’t be surprised if I get a stroke right this second.
“Okay, we see that you’re exhausted and in pain, Mr. Fitzgerald. We’ll leave now. I have one more question though.”
“Yes.”
“Was someone else there with you in the warehouse?”
Cole stands up straight and is about to say something when I beat him to it.
“No.”
“Are you sure?”
“It was just me who went after her after my family tried warning me against it. No one else was there that I saw.”
It’s not a lie. I didn’t see this girl who gave birth and well Cole, he’s just going to have to fucking go with it.
“Okay thank you. Please don’t try to leave, or we’ll have to take you in to the station.” Like I’d go anywhere. “We’ll be back soon.”
With that, they turn to leave, but I’m curious about something.
“Detectives,” I call. Cole snaps his head to look at me. Dad narrows his eyes at me. I know I shouldn’t push it when I’m already on thin ice like this, but guck it all to hell. I want to make sure I bury them all.
“Yes?”
“Is it true? What they’re saying about discoveries found in the ruins of the Matthews residence?”
Cole’s stare burns in the side of my head, but I keep a straight face.
“Mr. Fitzgerald…”
“I think you already know that the sister of these assholes stalked me for two years, made lewd proposals to me, including breaking into my car and undressing in the backseat and waited for me.”
“Julian, son…”
“Right before she killed herself in front of my best friend over there, Cole Perry and I, she admitted to us that she was physical and sexually abused by her brothers, right Cole?”
“Right,” he says seriously. “She also told us one other thing.”
“So, I ask you again, detective,” I mutter. “Are the rumors true?”
They glance at each other, looking hesitant, but the news has been all over social media.
“Yes,” one of the detectives finally says. “The remains of a three-month-old baby were found on the scene, buried in the backyard.”
I know. I put the evidence of that atrocious crime there.
“The remains?” I mutter, hoping I look as horrified as I am disgusted.
“Yes.”
Before she died, Sandra Matthews sent me a text of a dead infant, hidden somewhere. Because I knew her brothers would get out of control one day, I knew I had to keep an ace up my sleeve.
“So now, I ask you,” I seethe. “Are you going to find that serial rapist, abuser and murderer?”
Because if not, I will.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Mia
My heart is pounding so hard, it hasn’t calmed down since I woke up.
It took everything in me to stay in fucking character and not break when I saw Julian and the banged up state he was in, but I knew everything, and I do mean everything, was riding on how I handled it.
I saw the cops. I saw the smirk on Nathan’s face, leading the cops into the room.
I knew he wanted a show. I knew he was going to start lying about Julian—evidenced by the way he was pushed in, sitting tense and angry in a wheelchair, with his hand handcuffed to the arm of it.
That was all it took for me.
Immediately, without thinking of it, I knew what I had to do and well, thanks to my father, I knew I had a shot.
How could it not work? After all, my father was the one who told Sean and Shane to bash me across the head. It hurts when I move or when I think of what happened to me, but it’s the best excuse to use in my façade.