Reasonable

By K.T. Carlisle

"Complex and satisfying, the narrative features plenty of crisp detective spadework, unanswered questions, interpersonal melodrama, more dead bodies, and enough surprises to keep even seasoned mystery fans on their toes ... A serpentine, suspenseful mystery that will keep readers guessing right to the fin

• Language: English
• Publisher: K.T. Carlisle
• Release date: Oct 31, 2023
• ISBN: 9798869056870

Book preview

Part 1

Catheryn

Chapter 1

As the officers bagged my hands and clamped the handcuffs tight around my wrists, all I could think was, I would arrest me, too . Even though I knew deep down that I could not be guilty, part of me couldn’t be sure. With a blood-soaked tee-shirt clinging to my torso, booze seeping out of every pore, and my right hand wrapped around a six-inch butcher’s blade, I was not exactly the picture of innocence. Still, I could not shake the nagging feeling that this happened by some terrible design.

Of course, it didn’t help that the sight of Elaine’s body lying motionless on the ground gave me a sick yet deeply satisfying pleasure. No doubt the arresting officers could detect my total lack of remorse; the corners of my mouth gave an involuntary twitch each time I glanced her lifeless corpse. I couldn’t tell if it was nervousness or excitement that caused the laughter to erupt.

Do you understand your rights as I have read them to you? the uniform to my left had to raise her voice over the sound of my uncontrollable cackling. A stunned silence fell over the two women as my fits grew louder and wilder. The giggling took over my body, weakening my knees until I could no longer stand upright.

Just get her in the fucking car, the officer to my right almost jerked my arm out of its socket as she yanked me upward and pushed me towards the front door. I stumbled between my escorts on our way to the squad car, all the while my body shaking with inexplicable glee.

Stop laughing, I begged to myself. But I couldn’t. The truth was that even though I didn’t know how or why it happened, I was happy that Elaine was dead. She deserved this, and if I was the one to end her life, maybe that wasn’t such a horrible thing after all. The real shame was in getting caught.

I felt the officer’s hand push my head down as she forced me into the back of the car. Blue and red lights danced across the midnight pavement, revealing a crowd of haunted, awestruck neighbors—only one of whom I recognized. The distinct silhouette of Elaine’s ex-husband stood out in the sea of shocked and sleep-deprived onlookers, his high cheek bones and upturned nose casting a garish shadow across his face with each flash of the police lights. My gaze lingered on his slouched, disheveled figure leaned against the side of his bright-red Jeep, which was parked just across from my driveway. What is he doing here? I wondered as the officers drove me away.

***

The Monroe County Sheriff’s Office reeked of old coffee and stale body odor, which naturally transported me back to high school gym class. In the hot, humid, cramped gymnasium, I could see Coach Reynolds taking greedy gulps from his spiked thermos, a fresh sheen of sweat beading up on his brow. Even in those distant memories, Elaine was inescapable.

Our locker room was so small, we were forced to share a space during our senior year. Back then, we didn’t mind sharing anything, whether it was lip balm, secrets, or tiny metal closets in underfunded academia. There weren’t many wealthy families to speak of in Williamsburg—much less those that chose to enroll their children in public school—so it was only natural that Elaine and I would gravitate towards one another. Though our families were well-intentioned in their decision to keep us out of private school, not wanting their financial fortune to create a sense of entitlement in their daughters, it was difficult for us to find common ground with our farm-working, football-loving, rifle-carrying contemporaries.

It wasn’t that we disliked the other students or looked down on them for their upbringing; there were simply too many cultural barriers that kept us from becoming anything more than good acquaintances at best. But with Elaine, I didn’t have to pretend to be anything that I wasn’t. I didn’t have to worry that there might be an ulterior motive to her friendship, as though she were just using me to get a taste of a life that she didn’t have herself. When I was with her, I felt comfortable. We never fell short of excuses to spend more time together or make each other laugh. She and I would even play this game to see how many times we could catch Coach Reynolds adding a splash of whiskey to his thermos during one gym class. If I closed my eyes, I could almost see that devilish grin spread across her face after seeing him sneak another shot. She would toss her yellow hair over her shoulder, whipping her head in my direction each time as if to ask, Are you keeping count?

After taking some initial photos, my hands were allowed a momentary respite so I could remove my shirt and provide it to the crime scene unit for evidence. Beneath it, I could see my stomach was stained orange with my old locker mate’s blood. I changed into the Tyvek suit provided to me, painfully aware that I was not wearing a bra as my long, dark curls tickled the porcelain surface of my bare breasts. Bits of debris were scraped from under my fingernails and collected into a small plastic bag before the handcuffs were placed back around my wrists, and I was shuffled out the door and down the hall to medical clearance.

My eyes strained against the shock of the small examination room’s stark, white interior (which, even in my inebriated state, I noted could have benefited from a proper cabinet refacing). The space couldn’t have been more than ten feet wide with bright fluorescent bulbs burning overhead and a stretch of countertop protruding from the left-hand wall where a long needle and two vials sat unopened in their plastic wrapping. Every ounce of strength I had went towards trying to keep my head from falling over as the graying, middle-aged nurse began her assessment.

Who’ve we got here? she asked the pair of female officers still flanking me on either side.

Suspect’s name is Catheryn Clark, the petite, brunette to my right answered as I struggled to keep my balance atop the scale while the nurse took down my height and weight. When she was finished recording her findings, she motioned for me to take a seat in the hard, metal chair beside the countertop. I slumped into the uncomfortable piece of furniture and did my best to focus on her finger as she moved it from side to side across my face, but I couldn’t decide which of the three index fingers I saw was the right one to follow. She shook her head, disappointed with my performance as she began to unwrap the needle and wipe at my elbow crease before drawing two vials of blood from my arm.

This one’s gonna need to sleep it off solo tonight, she commented to the officers as the vials slowly filled. She’s far too intoxicated.

Once my bloodwork was finished and the nurse was satisfied with her evaluation, the officers transported me to my private quarters: A four by four concrete hole complete with a single twin-sized cot bolted to the wall and a filthy-looking toilet that appeared as though it hadn’t been cleaned in quite some time. The room was a nightmare of monochromatic colors that bled together in funhouse mirror fashion, making me dizzy and nauseous in a way the alcohol hadn’t.

I think I’m gonna be sick, a steady stream of saliva was gathering in my mouth—a prequel to the bile burgeoning at the back of my throat.

Toilet’s right there, the larger of the two female officers spoke in a deep baritone and pointed a hulking finger in the direction of the toilet before turning on her heel and slamming the cell bars shut behind her. Moments later, the contents of my stomach spilled into the bowl, adding a pop of vibrant orange to the monotone surroundings.

***

It’s called vermillion, Tim informed me, jutting out his neck so I could get a better look at the ugly bowtie decorating his jugular.

I don’t care what the fuck it’s called, it’s hideous, I chided, And it doesn’t match anyway!

It was the start of our senior year, and we were getting ready for the annual Green Valley University homecoming crawl on Greek Row where Tim was a member at Sigma Nu. I was wearing an emerald green and gold mini dress in true school spirit while Tim donned his bizarre peach plaid button up and vermillion necktie combo. Despite his good looks and modest popularity, he lacked the kind of fashion sensibility and social awareness that most of the other brothers at his fraternity seemed to possess.

Honestly, you look like you escaped an insane asylum, I tousled the strands of his honey blonde hair and kissed him on the mouth to soften the blow before pushing him out of the bathroom so he could find something more suitable to wear. Just put on that green dress shirt you have with the shiny gold tie! You know, the one you wore to—

I couldn’t bring myself to complete the thought. None of us wanted to think about the last time. Not after everything had finally started to feel normal again. I stared into the bathroom mirror and watched as Tim’s chiseled body occupied the doorframe once more. A long pause lingered between us before I was brave enough to face him and ask the question that I was sure was on both of our minds.

Do you think everyone still thinks we had something to do with it? I thought of the hushed whispers and sideways glances we all suffered through during the final days of the previous semester. Though Elaine’s boyfriend suffered the brunt of everyone’s suspicion, the weight of accusation hung over each of us like a heavy raincoat too drenched with storm to peel from our bodies.

I think we shouldn’t concern ourselves with what other people think, Tim wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me close, kissing the top of my head. The warmth from his lips sent goosebumps down my scalp and neck, erasing the images of judgmental college students as it passed through my body. I sighed.

You’re right, I decided.

Let’s just… try to have fun tonight, okay? he held me at arm’s length and smiled before moving in for a second kiss, this time sealing his lips against mine.

Okay, okay, I relented. But get fucking changed first. I’m serious.

Tim rolled a pair of icy, gray eyes and smirked before closing the bathroom door. I tried to refocus my attention on the party at hand rather than the events that had made the final week of the previous semester so unbearable, but I couldn’t stop replaying the memory of what happened over and over again in my mind.

Six months prior to the incident the semester before, we decided to get an off-campus apartment with Elaine and her boyfriend, Evan. It was a two-story, Victorian-style, brick duplex with one unit available on each floor. Ours was the more spacious of the two-bedroom apartments located on the top story, featuring a set of beautiful floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the Greene Street Bridge and saturated the open, airy living room with a flood of natural light.

While the building itself was more than seventy years old, our apartment had been renovated to include all the modern amenities to which my upper-class upbringing had grown accustomed. From the rich, burgundy hardwood floors to the wide-open floor plan to the stainless-steel kitchen appliances—the apartment was a far cry from the prison-style dorm rooms that Elaine and I had endured for the first two years of our college career. Though it was only a two-story building, we could still gaze upon the Tar River snaking gracefully through campus which was easily visible from the worn, leather armchair in our living room. But while the breathtaking vista once captured our hearts, it was now marred by a tragedy so consuming, none of us could bring ourselves to peer beyond its glassy surface into the depths below.

Mia Davis was a straight-A student. She had an academic scholarship in excellent standing. Her athletic prowess had earned her a series of championship medals that likely still decorate the halls of Green Valley University fifteen years later. By the end of her freshman year, Mia was the first underclassman to become student body president. She had a way of making everyone feel like she genuinely loved them, and so, everyone genuinely loved her back. Given all this information, it made sense that following her unexpected suicide, people wanted answers to one simple question.

Why?

Why did someone who, by all accounts, had everything going for her choose to take her own life? She wasn’t under financial or academic duress as evidenced by her scholarship. She wasn’t socially inept, which was clear from both her athletic pursuits as well as her participation in student government. She wasn’t what one would call a textbook definition of depression at all. Perhaps that’s what made it so easy for others to look elsewhere for explanations. When someone like Mia commits suicide, it can be easier to entertain the possibility that she was murdered than to admit to having missed her cries for help. It becomes even easier to believe that Mia could have been murdered when four college students just happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time during the exact moment that she fell from the Greene Street Bridge.

We weren’t supposed to leave the apartment at all that night. It was Evan’s birthday, which meant catering to his unique brand of introversion: drinking heavily, playing card games, and not engaging with anyone who might be considered the general public. Personally, I never thought that Evan and Elaine made sense as a couple. Elaine’s bombastic, bubbly personality stood in such stark contrast to Evan’s withdrawn, at times cold demeanor.

It wasn’t just their personalities that clashed. Even their outward appearances seemed at odds with one another. Though he wasn’t the textbook definition of good looks, Evan’s angular facial features, striking blue eyes, and thick mane of dark, messy hair gave him an almost exotic appearance that made him undeniably handsome. Still, he was not the type of person who I envisioned standing beside the thin, tanned blonde with the button nose who I called my best friend. I knew that opposites were supposed to attract, but I never imagined that Elaine would fall so head-over-heels for someone who seemed to contradict every aspect of her being.

On that particular night, the couple’s dichotomy was on full display. As roommates, Tim and I were no strangers to the constant bickering that erupted between the two of them. Though they argued more often than not—mostly due to Evan’s unpredictable, angry outbursts—their fights rarely ever ventured beyond the front door of our apartment. But while they weren’t prone to putting a spotlight on their spats, that night was different. Earlier that day as we were walking to the library together, Elaine confided to me that our plans to lay low for Evan’s birthday celebration were about to take a drastic change.

He doesn’t know it yet, but I planned a small surprise party at the Sig Nu house, she was beaming as she told me, but even I knew this was a terrible idea. Evan was in every way the brooding art student. While he was happy enough tag along with us on our frat-party-filled weekend adventures, he didn’t make it a point to fit in with the crowd there. It was surprising to me that the fraternity brothers agreed to the idea in the first place considering the fact that Evan was so vocal about his dislike for them.

Then again, Elaine always had a way of getting exactly what she wanted, and rooming with one of the Sig Nu brothers made it easy for her to concoct the perfect plan. Even if Tim hadn’t been a member, I doubted that Elaine would have had any trouble convincing the other brothers to give her the keys to their house for whatever she wanted. It was obvious to anyone who had been to the frat house that the entire chapter was infatuated with the blonde-haired, blue-eyed party girl, much to the chagrin of her surly boyfriend. One brother in particular by the name of Pete had made it a personal mission of his to torment Evan with the open objectification of his girlfriend whenever we happened to make a group appearance.

"Are you sure he’ll be okay with this? This is Evan we’re talking about here," I reminded her. She rolled her eyes as if to say, I think I know my man better than you. Are you at least going to give him a heads up before we just show up for this thing?

"Well, that would kind of ruin the surprise part, now, wouldn’t it? she grabbed my shoulder and stopped us both in our tracks. Look around you, Cat—who do you see?"

I looked over my shoulder at the bridge we had just crossed, then craned my neck back around squinting forward into the maze of downtown shops and modest skyscrapers that bordered the college campus.

No one…? I guessed.

"Exactly! she looped her arm around mine and we continued our journey to the library where I was due for my next shift. It’s almost finals week. No one is here, so it’s not like it’s gonna be a rager or anything. It’s just a small get together with some of the guys that Evan actually likes."

I shot her a dubious look. In my experience, Evan’s remarks on the Sig Nu brothers ranged from thinly veiled hatred at best, outright disgust at worst. Not even living with Tim had softened his position on the fraternity.

I don’t know, Elaine, I think we should just stick to the original plan, I said, though I knew in my heart that there was no reasoning with her at this stage. Blind stubbornness had brought her to the point of no return.

Well, it’s too late because it’s all planned and I’m not canceling everything now, she said with childlike defiance. Besides, Tim thinks it’s a great idea.

"He does? I struggled to hide the incredulity from my voice. Tim and Evan were civil with one another out of respect for me and Elaine, but it was clear that the two shared nothing in common. They were as different from one another as Elaine and I had been from our high school peers. Though Evan refrained from showing Tim the same level of animosity that he reserved for the other frat brothers, I wouldn’t have called the two friends. The idea that Tim could offer any helpful input when it came to planning Evan’s birthday party was something I found altogether unbelievable. I think he just didn’t want to hurt your feelings for having such a dumb idea."

"Oh what-ever, Elaine folded her arms and pouted, looking every bit like an adult toddler as she did so. I knew you’d try to talk me out of this. You’re always so… negative. That’s why I didn’t tell you until now. Plus, you’re awful at keeping secrets. Tim’s known about this for a long time; he’s even helping me get Evan a little liquored up before we go tonight so he’s more in the partying mood."

You really think that’s a good idea? After the last time? I thought back to the Valentine’s Day party that had happened just a few months prior. That time, Evan had known about the plan to head to the Sig Nu house all along and had decided for himself to get drunk before the night even started. Of course, the whole thing was a disaster anyway and ended in one of the worst fights in the couple’s history no thanks to Pete’s persistent flirtation.

It’s not gonna be like that, okay? God, why can’t you just be fun about this? Tim and I have been going to the Sig Nu house for weeks planning this thing with the guys.

Wow, didn’t realize you two were so close, I said coolly. The idea of Tim and Elaine swapping secrets and planning parties together sent an unexpected wave of jealousy spiraling in my gut.

C’mon, you know it’s not like that, she pled, sensing the origins of my annoyance. "He’s helping me do something nice for my boyfriend? You know I would never steal your man away from you. I mean, you won him fair and square, remember?"

I smirked, recalling the moment that Elaine and I had spotted the attractive, quiet blonde by the bar at the frat house during our sophomore year. It was a blacklight party and was one of the first times that we had been to the Sig Nu house, yet despite the thrill that came with all the loud music and alcohol, I was starting to lose interest in being there. I had just been dumped for the fourth time since starting at GVU and despite the fact that she was supposed to be helping me find a suitable rebound, Elaine seemed more interested in scooping up the attention of whatever brother she happened to stumble upon. When I saw Tim standing by the line of partygoers at the bar, the pink pinstripes of his mauve button-down glowing with brilliant phosphorescence beneath the blacklight, I knew that I needed to act fast before I lost my chance.

Dibs! Elaine and I had shouted together, our eyes locked on the shared target across the room. We turned to each other at once like two lions about to pounce on the same carcass.

You know the drill, Elaine said, resting her right fist in her left palm.

Oh, c’mon, Laney, I groaned. You’ve been fighting ‘em off all night. You’re supposed to be helping me out here!

I don’t make the rules of dibs, I just enforce them, she announced. C’mon. Rock, papers, scissors to settle the tie.

I rolled my eyes and let out a frustrated huff before relenting, certain that a child’s game would quash any hope that I had at garnering the handsome stranger’s attention. To my unexpected delight, I won the first throw after slicing through Elaine’s paper with my sheers. The elation was short-lived, however, when she demolished those same scissors with her rocky fist in the next round. With one move left to determine the victor, I had already prepared myself for a crippling loss until Elaine’s fist came down once more, sinking like a stone beneath the weight of my open palm.

Yes! I shouted. Paper for the win!

Fine, Elaine soured, folding her arms across her chest as she darted jealous eyes around the room. It wasn’t long before she spotted the next object of her affection.

Have fun with Prince Charming, she shrugged. I’m gonna go see if I can’t pluck that moody little wallflower off the plaster.

She sauntered over to the place where her future boyfriend stood slouched against the wall, hands jammed in his pockets with a look of pure contempt radiating from his electric eyes.

I don’t make the rules of dibs, I just enforce them, I teased Elaine as we crossed the street, allowing her words from our sophomore year to haunt her.

Ha, ha, she stuck her tongue out at me as we walked deeper into downtown to get to campus. The two of us continued to the library where Elaine busied herself with exam preparation while I manned the reference desk for the remainder of the afternoon. It was almost eight o’ clock by the time we returned home after my shift ended. Tim was outside the door to the apartment before Elaine even had the chance to retrieve the key from her purse.

I saw you guys cross the bridge from the window, he explained in a rush. Look, we might have a problem—

Just then, the sound of shattered glass echoed from beyond the front door. The three of us filed into the apartment to find Evan clumsily picking himself up off the floor. Beside him, a potted plant lay on its side. The ceramic that had once enveloped its soil was now in a fractured mosaic scattered across the hardwood.

"I think I might have gotten him too drunk," Tim’s confession was unnecessary. Even if we hadn’t arrived at the precise instant that Evan crashed into my snake plant, the bottle of Jack Daniels that sat three-quarters empty on the counter was all the supporting evidence we needed.

Jesus Christ, Tim, were you trying to kill him? Elaine rushed to her boyfriend’s side, helping him to the dining room table.

I’m fine, I’m fine, Evan shrugged her off, rocking backward as he stumbled into his seat. Despite his protestations to the contrary, he was very clearly belligerent, resembling an under-stuffed scarecrow as he slumped to his side in the dining chair. Elaine shot daggers at Tim from across the room as she attempted to straighten out her drunken boyfriend.

Why don’t we all have a coffee before we go? I suggested, attempting to break the tension. Though she was small in stature, I knew first-hand how intimidating it was to suffer Elaine’s wrath when something didn’t go her way. I couldn’t let my boyfriend become the subject of her fury. It was bad enough to get through for someone whose emotional well-being wasn’t dangling by a thread; the thought of what her ire might do to Tim’s already fragile state of mind frightened me.

"Go? Where we gonna go?" Evan slurred at his girlfriend from the table. With all of my focus on protecting Tim from her unbridled rage, I had forgotten the importance of maintaining the mystery behind Elaine’s covert plans. I searched her face for a cover story, embarrassed that I was about to let the surprise slip during my first interaction with Evan since learning about the party. Maybe she was right: I couldn’t keep a secret; at least not one that involved undisclosed birthday celebrations.

Well, we’re obviously going to need more Jack if we’re gonna keep this party going, Tim interjected with the perfect excuse, winking over at Elaine before heading into the kitchen to make a fresh pot of coffee. I followed behind him to grab the cream, sugar, and spoons for the table.

Thanks for saving my ass, I whispered, but my gratitude seemed to fall on deaf ears. Tim’s focus shifted back and forth between fixing the coffee and checking his watch. He seemed rigid, back muscles flexing intensely beneath his dress shirt with every movement he made. Watching his body harden with stress made me angry with Elaine for involving him in her scheme. Granted, I hadn’t told her about any of the things that Tim and I had discussed during the months leading up to Evan’s birthday.

Despite what Elaine believed, it turned out that I was capable of keeping some things confidential—especially when it meant protecting someone I loved. But as I watched Tim move around the kitchen with robotic reticence, I wished that I had confided in my friend about all that he was going through. If I had, maybe she wouldn’t have put so much needless pressure on him. I slipped my arms around his waist and pressed my body up against his, running my hands the length of his torso.

Remember what we talked about. Don’t let her stress you out, I murmured into his neck, kissing the place where my whispers caressed his skin. He placed his hands on top of mine and gave them a gentle squeeze.

It’s no trouble, he assured me. But we do have to hurry up if we’re going to make it there in time.

The red light on the electric percolator signaled the end of its cycle and the beverages were ready to be served. We returned to the dining room only to discover that Elaine and Evan had moved to the nearby sofa. I couldn’t tell whether it was the sight of Evan’s hands traveling up his girlfriend’s pink, pleated skirt or the loud smacking of saliva that caused my skin to crawl with discomfort. Tim set the coffee on the table with a loud thud and cleared his throat.

Sorry! Elaine abruptly untangled herself from her boyfriend, smoothing the wrinkles from her skirt as she stood to face us. Was trying to keep this idiot from falling asleep on us.

That’s one way to do it, I commented, handing her two mugs. She fixed one for herself and the other for Evan, and the four of us sipped in observational silence, hoping the birthday boy would soon snap into sobriety. It wasn’t long before we finished, but we lingered in the apartment for another twenty minutes or so just to be sure that Evan was indeed on the path to modest recovery.

Alright, it’s now or never, Tim pointed to his watch, reminding us that there was a schedule to be upheld.

What’s happening? Evan asked as Elaine handed him a light jacket.

We need more Jack, remember? she reminded him.

"I love you," he responded, his tongue still thick with inebriation. Elaine laughed and returned his affection before we exited the apartment together and began walking towards the Sigma Nu house.

At first, Evan didn’t notice that the group had missed the turn to get to the liquor store. But the evening air was unseasonably brisk for mid-May, which only helped sharpen his senses. We were half a block from 5th Street when he finally had the cognizance to ask, Aren’t we goin’ the wrong way?

No, this is the way to Sig Nu, Tim answered without thinking. Elaine and I stopped in our tracks as we realized the surprise had been ruined. I was shocked that after keeping his composure for so long, Tim let the secret slip at the last possible second. He seemed to realize the gravity of his mistake at once, mouthing a wordless apology to Elaine. Her face was devoid of forgiveness, glowering back at him under the cover of darkness as Evan rounded on her.

"Sig, what? Oh no—no, no, no, Evan turned to his girlfriend with a look of horror on his face. What the fuck is he talkin’ about?"

Surprise… Elaine’s feeble response came quiet and cautious through the late spring evening as Evan threw his hands in the air and let them collapse dramatically at his sides.

"What the fuck, Elaine? he demanded. Seriously, what the fuck were you thinkin’?"

I thought you would like it! she protested, turning to her co-conspirator for support. Tim and I became suddenly too absorbed with counting the cracks in the sidewalk beneath our feet to be bothered with the argument erupting around us.

"Nooo, you thought that you would like it! Jesus fucking Christ, you know I hate those guys," Evan rebuked. With each exchange, his rage seemed to subdue his slurred speech.

Well, they don’t hate you! the crack in Elaine’s voice told me that she was close to unleashing a flood of tears. Her boyfriend barked a bitter laugh in response, his face twisted with unmasked fury.

"Yeah, I’m sure that’s it, there was a sarcastic edge to his words that told me to brace myself for what was coming next. It’s definitely not the fact that Pete wants to fuck you. Maybe if you didn’t act like such a slut at these things, he wouldn’t be constantly trying to get into your pants while I watch."

With that, a mournful sob escaped Elaine’s lips, her bare knees trembling like two dead leaves as they buckled beneath a wave of sorrow. Somewhere inside, a voice urged me to comfort my friend, but my legs remained leaden and heavy on the sidewalk. I was a toddler again, too frozen with fear to interrupt the sound of her parents’ screaming matches echoing from the next room.

Here we go, everybody! Hope y’all got your tickets to the goddamn Elaine Show! Pete sure has, Evan mocked his crying girlfriend, calling out to an audience that only he could see.

Fuck you, Evan! she shouted through the river streaming down her cheeks. I lifted my gaze just in time to see a wild-eyed Evan lunge towards Elaine, hands outstretched like he wanted to wring her neck. A scream left my body and Tim swiftly intervened, forcing Evan’s arms behind his back with one graceful movement. Evan flailed under Tim’s control, only managing to pull himself free after minutes of relentless twisting.

Get off me! he roared when he was finally able to release himself from Tim’s grip. Elaine, Tim, and I huddled together, watching Evan with uncertainty from a safe distance as we anticipated his next move. Fuck this, I’m gettin’ the Jack and goin’ home. Have fun with your boyfriend.

He stormed off into the night, footsteps pounding at the pavement with loud, heavy thuds one after the other. Elaine turned and crumpled in my arms like a broken doll, and I stroked her hair as she sobbed into my shoulder. Hot tears and mascara soaked into my shirt as her body rattled with sadness, leaving a Rorschach of her misery imprinted in the fabric.

He’s just drunk, Laney, don’t listen to him, I assured her. She wailed an unintelligible response, too inconsolable to articulate in her current state. Elaine’s cries continued to fill the air for several moments before Tim got the hint that this now had become a girls-only outing.

I’ll go see if I can talk some sense into him, he said sheepishly before jogging off to catch up with Evan who, by that point, had vanished into the darkness. I wrapped one arm around Elaine’s shoulder, and we continued walking in the opposite direction. We couldn’t have been out for more than two hours before returning to the apartment. But that was all the time it took for Mia to fall from the bridge.

Chapter 2

W ake up, inmate! the officer’s booming voice ripped through my aching head like an avalanche, pulling me out of my drunken slumber. Beneath my body, the concrete floor was cool and callous, and I could smell the remnants of stale vomit emanating from the toilet above my head. I blinked a few times, desperate to remember where I was and why the room was spinning like a violent kaleidoscope. Suddenly, the image of Elaine’s bloody body flooded to my mind and the desire to puke overwhelmed me once more.

Jesus, the officer curled her lip up in disgust as fresh vomit splattered into the bottom of the toilet bowl. I wiped my mouth on my sleeve and proceeded to get up, the feeling of queasiness threatening to overtake me as I straightened myself into a standing position.

What is wrong with me? I wondered as I was instructed to place my hands on the wall, allowing the officer to enter the cell and handcuff me before pushing me out the door.

Where are you taking me? I asked.

The judge approved your arrest warrant, the officer informed me. Now we’ve gotta book you.

Don’t I get a phone call or something? without any prior arrest experience, I was pretty clueless about what to expect from being placed into police custody. But my limited understanding of the legal system told me that I was entitled to at least one phone call.

Yeah, yeah, you’ll get your call after you’re booked, the officer assured me. We walked down a series of hallways until we reached an area that had windows to the outside world. From what little I could make out beyond the glass, it appeared as though the first signs of a new day were breaking through the clouds.

How long have I been here? I speculated aloud. Though sleeping had helped, the familiar feeling of drunkenness still plagued me, and my perception of time was shattered beyond recognition.

No idea, my shift just started, the officer responded. It’s five A.M., if that helps any.

It didn’t. All I could remember with any certainty from the night before was that it was dark out when the officers put me in the back of the squad car. Since being placed inside my solitary cell, all sense of time had been effectively erased.

We continued to the booking station in silence where my fingerprints and basic information were taken. The conveyer belt of justice moved along like a fine-tuned machine until it was time for my mugshot, and my instinct to smile in front of the camera reared its ugly head. Needless to say, the officers were not amused, which was evident in the way I was manhandled to my next destination.

You get one phone call, my escort told me. Make it quick.

Though I wanted to talk to him more than anything in the world, this was a far cry from the kind of conversation that I had hoped would reunite us. But with no other options available, it seemed that I didn’t have much of a choice. Luckily, Tim was the type of person who never answered the phone for a number he didn’t recognize. It was possible that I could get away with leaving a voicemail rather than having to speak with him. I lifted the receiver and began to enter the number, praying all the while that no one would answer.

Hello, my heart sank until, you’ve reached Tim Clark. I can’t come to the phone right now… After ten years of marriage, it was refreshing to me that I could still at least predict the small things.

Hey Tim, it’s Cat, I mumbled into the phone. My tongue felt strange and swollen in my mouth, the taste of bile stuck to its surface. Why am I still drunk? How much did I drink? Just get this message out. There was an accident and Elaine’s dead, so guess I killed her and now I’m at— I covered the phone as I realized that I didn’t have a clue where I was. After finding out from the officer, I continued, the Monroe County Sheriff’s Office. Okay please help me, please. This is Cat.

After hanging up the phone, I looked back at my uniformed chaperon and shrugged as though I had wasted my last token at the arcade on a busted pinball machine.

Where to next? I asked in a voice far too cheerful for someone being charged with homicide. She tried her best to remain collected, but she couldn’t hide the revulsion from her features as she reached for my shoulder and guided me towards the interrogation room.

I expected a dark, dingy, concrete hole complete with the iconic two-way mirror. Instead, I was met with what could only be described as an undersized conference room in a gray, gritty office park. The officer instructed me to take a seat and wait for the detectives to arrive. As the minutes stretched into what felt like hours, I could feel what remained of blissful intoxication morph into an impossible hangover unlike anything I had ever experienced. My temples ballooned with agony, my lips felt raw and tingly, and my insides quivered with the need to vomit. It wasn’t long before I was heaving over a small wastepaper basket that was located in the corner of the room.

Goddamn it, a pudgy detective entered the interrogation room just as I had finished retching into the bottom of the garbage can. He backtracked out the door, calling to someone down the hallway, Can we get a water in here or something?

Moments later, he