Bitter Kisses (It's Just High School #3) - Thandiwe Mpofu Page 0,86
to go to the warehouse?”
“I’m sure you saw on my phone records that there was thirty second call between that fucker Sean Matthews and me,” I grit out, looking up at them.
“Are you saying he called you?”
The fuck? I can see the knowledge in their eyes.
“No, I called him.”
“Why?”
“Because of the fucking text he had sent me earlier in the day! He made it clear that he had Mia.”
“Can we see the text?”
“No,” I grit out. Just thinking back to that photo… I see red all over again.
“Why not?”
“Because those inbreds took a fucking compromising picture of her!” I seethe, glaring at everyone when inside, I’m hating myself so hard, it’s out of control now. “She wasn’t even in apposition where she could cover herself or even fight for herself!”
The room falls silent. We can hear the commotion and rush in the hallway. Mia’s room is five floors above mine, but the police are both here and on her floor.
“What was the state of Miss. Montague when you got there?”
“She was…” I trail off. I remember the blood. Actually, I could smell it. I heard the screams. Yes, a baby was being born but I fucking saw that fucking bed. I could smell the vomit. I saw the fucking pipe they used to beat her. I saw it all. “She was in a terrible state, but she was still standing.” And fighting.
I’ve never been so scared and proud in my life like I was when she was kicking that bastard, bashing his fucking head with the heel of her foot.
“So, you were nowhere near the Matthews compound when this all happened?”
“No,” I mutter, suddenly suspicious of where this is going.
“But your brother was there.”
Yeah, here we fucking go.
“He was looking for Mia. We all received the same text.”
“Tell us Mr. Fitzgerald, do you think your brother could have started the fire at the Matthews house?”
“And risk burning Mia if she was in there? There’s no way.”
He writes something down.
“What is the relationship between Miss Montague and your brother.”
They kissed before, but I don’t want to fucking think about that, so instead, I mumble. “They are friends.”
“More like best friends,” Cole chimes in from where he stands by the window. “He’s out there trying to see her now.”
“Is that true?” the detective asks.
“Yes well,” I mumble thinking of the way my brother defends Mia but is still fighting to be loyal to me when he should’ve just been loyal to the one person who’s always been real, true and deserved better than we gave her. Mia herself. “They are close.”
“Detective, I know the fire department conducted an investigation at that shady, disgusting compound,” Dad starts, turning around to look at the cops. “So, I know you already know what caused the fire, don’t you?”
I look at him, then at the detective.
“Yes, Mr. Fitzgerald, we do know.”
“And?” I press.
“After an in-depth investigation they concluded that the house was rigged with some sort of explosives,” the man says calmly, with a grim look on his face.
“Those explosives they found,” Dad goes on, his jaw ticking. “Is it not true that they were the same type of explosives used in the attempt to murder my son months ago?”
Well, I’ll be fucking damned. Dad really came through on this one.
“As a matter of fact, that’s correct Mr. Fitzgerald and we have determined that indeed, there was an attempt on one of your son’s lives but with that being said, it makes the death of Sean Matthews all the more suspicious.”
“I didn’t kill him,” I mutter. “I already told you he was shot and killed by his own brother.”
“Yes, the report shows that he died from gunshot wounds in the chest. He was dead a few minutes before his body burned and we did find the gun that was used in the wreckage.”
“Are you leading up to a question?”
“Isn’t that a bit suspicious?”
“No!” I snap. “Because that fucking bastard left it there! Have you found him yet?”
“Shane Matthews is still at large. However, we also found something else.”
“What?”
“The DNA samples found on the gun match Miss Montague’s.”
What the actual fuck?
“What?” I croak like a dying pig.
“Is it possible that you’re lying about Shane Matthews shooting and killing his own brother to cover up the fact that it was Miss Montague who did it instead?”
Fuck! This is all Nathan!
“Is that what that bastard is saying outside?” I demand, shooting up from the wheelchair, too livid to feel the pain.
“Please calm down,” the detective says. “What others are