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   Chapter 29 No.29

My Sister's Keeper By Bill Benners Characters: 6084

Updated: 2018-05-29 11:04


DOWNTOWN, THE OFFICERS AGAIN led me up the concrete ramp into the holding area. And again, as the heavy metal door slammed shut behind me, a chill squiggled up my spine. The same desk sergeant shoved the same telephone in my direction, removed the cuffs, and repeated the same line, "You only get one, so you better make it a good one."

I needed to let Scott know where I was, but doubted he'd be at his office on a Sunday afternoon, so I called Sappy. I caught him walking out the door, explained what was going on, and asked him for two favors. The first was to post a note on the back door of the studio canceling rehearsal; the second being to find Scott McGillikin and let him know I was again in police custody and in dire need of his immediate presence.

Parked in a hot room still wearing the layers of wet clothes, I became nauseous. I peeled off the jacket, two shirts, and the insulated underwear leaving them in a pile on the floor. Then waited.

When Scott arrived hours later, I blurted out, "I have great news!" the instant he entered.

He raised his hand to stop me and held it there until the escort had gone, then leaned close. "What have you got?"

"You're not going to believe this, but Ashleigh is alive! I found someone who saw her last Monday."

Scott set his briefcase on the table and stared at me. "You told the police?"

"Not yet."

"Then don't. Let me handle this. I'll take it directly to the D.A. There's no need for Sam Jones and his buffoons to even know about it. You understand?"

"But if Jones knew Ashleigh was alive, I'd be off the hook."

The door swung open and Detective Jones stepped into the room.

"Keep you mouth shut. Let me handle this, " Scott muttered dragging his briefcase across the steel table to his place next to me.

Jones stepped over a chair a

o hear your explanation for this." He waved a third set of papers in the air.

"What is it?"

"We found your client's blood type and tire tracks at yet another murder scene." Jones jammed a third set of copies against Scott's chest. "Like I said, your boy certainly does get around. Don't he?"

WHEN SCOTT RETURNED, he sat across the table from me, loosened his tie, and began scanning what looked to be official documents.

I slid the notepad toward him. "I wrote it all down. Everything."

"Good, " Scott mumbled, clearly distracted by the papers he held.

"So, what's Jones so worked up about?"

"The semen found in Ashleigh's bed belongs to you."

"No way!" I exclaimed jumping to my feet. "That's impossible! He's lying. I did not have sex with that woman!"

Scott shushed me without looking up. "Careful. These walls have ears. I reminded Jones that you were passed out and that extracting semen from an unconscious man is not a complicated procedure."

"What did he say?"

Scott looked up from the papers. "He said they found your tire tracks and blood at another murder scene."

"What murder scene?"

Scott looked back at the papers in his hand. "Does Lake Waccamaw ring a bell?"

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