CHAPTER 2. ALIBI

                                    

                                          
*Author's note: Strong trigger warning! This book contains graphic depictions of violence with some disturbing scenes involving m*rder and the use of weapons, torture, domestic violence, including mental and physical abuse, sexual situations and mature language. It may trigger certain individuals who are sensitive to this subject matter. It is marked mature. You must be 17 or older to read this book.

                            
                              
                                
                                
                              
                            
                            
                          
Everything is swirling around me and I feel like I'm moving in slow motion. I can't seem to catch my breath. My head is consumed by gruesome images and as much as I try, I can't get them out of my mind. The reality of how far my anger took me is now a burden I must carry forever. There's a small part of me that feels remorse for what I did, but the moment the image of him fucking her in our bed reminds me of why I did it, the remorse slowly fades away. He deserved what I just did to him and even though I don't know who she is yet, that bitch deserved it, too. That was my house, my bed, and my man. How dare she try to take what was mine.
When the detective enters the room with me, reality starts to set in. This is real. If I don't pull myself together and continue to play the devastated girlfriend, I'm going to jail. 
"Ms. Wallace, I'm detective Mitchell. I know this is a very difficult time for you, but I need to ask you a few questions. Would that be alright?" 
I pull the blanket the nurse gave me tightly around me, blink several times as I get my story straight in my head and let the words flow from my lips like I'm rehearsing my lines for an upcoming play. 
"Yeah sure. You can ask me anything." 
"When you arrived at the scene today, where were you coming from?" 
"I was coming home from running a few errands after I got off work. I work for my dad's law firm and he let us off early today." 
"What time exactly did you leave work and what did you do after leaving?" 
"Well, I was the last one to leave, so I locked up and I didn't look at the clock, but somewhere around 2:00 pm I think. I went to a nail salon and had my nails done and then stopped at the Food Emporium to pick up a few things for dinner. Oh, and I stopped at the video store and picked up a couple of movies." 
"Did you go right home after the video store?" 
"Yes, I went straight home after that." 
"Approximately what time was that?"
"Somewhere around 4:30 pm, I think. My memory is a little fuzzy. Do they know what caused the fire yet?" 
"No, the Fire Marshall will have a formal report for us tomorrow. Were there any issues you can think of with the electrical system in the house or anything that could have been a hazard, like a space heater or anything like that you can think of?" 
"No, nothing I can think of. Chase would sometimes fall asleep watching TV and I'd find a cigarette smoldering in the ashtray next to him. I warned him about that several times. Oh my God, do you think that's what happened?" 
"Well, it's like I said, the Fire Marshall will send us his report tomorrow and then we'll know more. Now, I need to ask you some questions about your relationship with the deceased if you're up for that." 
I stare down at the floor and try to prepare myself for the barrage of questions he's about to ask. I realize I'm holding my breath and I force myself to breathe in and out a few times to keep myself from having a panic attack. When I feel like I've prepared as well as I can, I look up and make eye contact with him and agree.