Songs for Cricket by Laine, E. (best books to read in your 20s TXT) 📗

My patience vanished. “I never wrote a word about her.”

He held up a hand to stop my rant.

“Hastings,” someone shouted from upstairs. “You need to see this.”

He climbed the stairs and I followed.

One uniform held out a ring in glove-covered hands. In his other he held up the box of condoms. “It looks like the same brand, and one’s missing.”

Miller stopped riffling through my drawers. “Well, well, well. The cocksucker lied. Then again, I never believed he hadn’t had sex after all this time.”

As I thought of a way to explain without mentioning Finley, everyone seemed to focus on the bed.

“Where are the sheets?” Miller asked.

“I was going to wash them,” I said in my defense.

The other uniform spotted my half-open closet door and pulled out the bundle. As he shook them out, the small rust colored stain was revealed for all to see.

I scrubbed a hand down my face knowing how it looked.

“What is that?” Miller proclaimed like tada, not really looking for an answer to his question.

Hastings pursed his lips and spoke softly to me.

“Before you answer, think about what you’re going to say. We are going to test it. So if you tell me you cut yourself and it is proven not to be your blood, I’m going to have a hard time believing anything you’ve told me thus far.”

I wanted to roar that my story had been proven without a shadow of a doubt based on the video Finn had shown them. Lacey had been the one to conveniently change her tune.

“Who’s blood is it?” Hastings gently prodded.

“Just tell him.”

I snapped my head in the direction of the door and spotted August and Cooper looking on. They weren’t supposed to be there. With everyone’s eyes on me, I caved some.

“Cricket,” I murmured, knowing there was no way in hell I would say Finley’s name.

What we’d done was private between her and me. And this wasn’t how I planned for her brothers to find out about us.

“So you admit in your notebook, you’re writing about a real person?” Hastings asked before his partner could try to railroad me.

“Found it.” The officer who’d bagged the ring and condom box held up my notebook in the air.

I hated that my lyrics would be scrutinized and picked apart, meanings they wouldn’t understand.

“I called Sawyer. He wants to talk to you.”

August thrust his phone at me. He’d been there long enough to know I was up shit’s creek for the second time that day.

“Hey,” I said, reeling from the turn of events but still remembering Lacey’s sneer.

She’d screwed me big time. For the briefest of seconds, I wondered if banging her would have saved me this trouble. But the answer to that was a definitive no.

Sawyer sounded all business. “Look, I have my girl Shelly here. She’s going to walk you through what to do.”

There was a second before a feminine voice sounded on the other end.

“Shepard.”

“Yes,” I answered.

“I’m Shelly, Sawyer’s fiancée. You didn’t do this, right?”

I got that she had to ask and held back a curse.

“No.” It came off more as a growl.

“Then don’t say anything else. We’re arranging a lawyer for you.”

“I can’t afford one,” I said.

Because I had a full scholarship, I wasn’t allowed to work under any circumstances. The little money I’d earned from my summer job had to last me all year.

“Don’t worry about it. We’ll figure something out. Now is my brother there?”

That shocked me. “Who?”

“Greg Hastings.”

I glanced at him, thinking about what a tangled web was being created.

“Yes,” I said.

“Let me talk to him, but I’ll say this. He’s a good cop. You can trust him.”

I murmured a thanks and held out the phone to him.

“Who is it?” he asked. “No, let me guess. It’s my sister.”

I nodded, and he took the phone.

“I know,” he said, looking exasperated. The muted yelling from the other end was audible, but I couldn’t make out the words. “Look. I’m doing my job, and I can’t talk to you about this. If you bring Dad in, it will just complicate things.” He listened some more. “Sorry, but now isn’t the time. I have a job to do.”

He handed me back the phone, and I gave it to August who stepped out into the hallway with the phone to his ear.

“If you can’t tell me who this blood belongs to, you’ll tie my hands.” He pointed at the sheets. “This gives us probable cause.”

Shelly had told me to stay quiet. The jail at the station hadn’t been too bad. So I clamped my lips shut.

He blew out a breath and circled his fingers in the air. An officer appeared and recited the Miranda warning by heart. My hands were jerked behind me and the metal rings fastened around my wrists.

“Take it easy,” Hastings told the guy.

I was shoved out into the hallway, regretting the day I laid eyes on Lacey Foster.

“What is going on?”

I lifted my head from counting the number of planks on the floor. Finley stood blocking our path.

“They’re just doing their job,” I said, hoping she’d let it go.

“Ms. Farrow, I need you to step aside.”

My girl was made of sterner stuff. “I’m not moving until you tell me what’s going on.”

Miller stepped forward, and I stood straighter, ready to barrel into the guy if he dared touch her. I shouldn’t have worried. Cooper and August filed in on either side of her.

Cooper spoke to her. “They found traces of blood on Shepard’s sheets, and he refuses to tell them how it got there.”

Her eyes bore into mine, and I glanced away because I wasn’t going to do what her imploring gaze suggested I do.

“It’s mine,” she said with a bite in her tone.

My focus shot in her direction and held, afraid of what I’d find in her brother’s glare.

“Are you saying he attacked you, too?” Miller asked, always assuming the worst when it came to me.

“No,” she said. “We had sex. Is that enough information for you? Or should I detail it?”

Her bolstering