Jessie Humphries - Killing Ruby Rose

“Don’t call me sweetheart , and don’t you dare treat this lightly,” I warned him.

“But I don’t understand. You aren’t making any sense.” He held up his hands. “Why would—”

“You don’t have to understand.” I cut him off again. “Look, I don’t have all the answers. I just know at some point he’ll come for you. And as much as I don’t give a damn about you, the only chance of this working is if you try to protect yourself. Any slight wrench in his plans might be the difference between you living and me killing you. If you value your life, you’ll fight however you can.”

Doubts fought against my hopes as he sunk in reaction to the word “fight.” This small man was no fighter. He was scrawny and despicable. But he was my only chance.

I turned to go. I couldn’t bear to be in his presence one second longer.

Before leaving, I said, “Regardless of what I think of you and the truly evil things you’ve done, I don’t want to kill you. Please don’t make me.”

The sound of the garage door cut through my thoughts. Mom was finally home. I shook off the memory of Violet’s tentacles touching me, reassuring myself that my scalding shower had washed away all his filth. Man, my loofah was getting a lot of use lately.

I ran downstairs to meet her. I had to know what was going on with Liam.

“Hey, Mom,” I said softly, trying not to scare her. It was well after 11:00 p.m., and most of the lights were off.

“Ruby!” She jumped like a skittish cat. “What are you trying to do, kill me?”

Was that a Freudian slip?

“Why are you home so late?” I asked, going for a gentle approach. “I’ve been waiting to talk to you.”

“Yeah, well it’s going to have to wait,” she said curtly as she scrambled to pick up the files she’d dropped.

“What’s wrong with you?” I asked, sensing something in her frantic movements.

She brushed past me and started hiking the stairs.

“Are you just going to ignore me forever?” I called after her. “You know, it was only a week ago that you asked me to meet at Dr. Teresa’s to talk. Did you suddenly forget what you had to say?”

“Rue, it’s almost midnight. It’s been a long day, and I’m tired.” She stopped and took off her heels—like that would give her more getaway speed.

“You told me you’d help him,” I said, not even close to giving up. “You promised.”

She turned and looked down at me.

“He’s been in there forever. Why haven’t you gotten him out?”

“It’s more complicated than I realized at first. Do you know how it would look if I pulled strings to get my daughter’s high school fling out of jail after he killed a veteran police officer?”

Whoa. I could not have heard that “he killed” part right.

“He didn’t do it. I told you that. I was there!” I stalked up the stairs after her. “If you’d let me talk to the police, I would tell them that! They have no right to detain him. They have no evidence, no motive. He should have been released by now.”

“Ruby, honestly, just stop. You have no idea what you are talking about. His bail was set too high, and his mom can’t afford it. She’s a bartender,” she said condescendingly. My anger flared and the springs in my muscles tightened up, waiting for the release.

“What bail—what are you talking about?” I asked, staring her down.

“Arraignment was several days ago. The judge set bail at a million dollars.” She turned to go, but I grabbed her wrist. This was escalating too fast.

“A million dollars? That’s ridiculous. Why didn’t you tell me?” I narrowed my eyes at her, knowing exactly why she hadn’t told me. She saw this fight coming, and that’s why she’d been avoiding me. I wanted to slap myself for believing in her and not finding out about Liam’s situation myself. “Why haven’t you told me anything? I trusted you, and yet you’re the one allowing the charges to be brought!”

She pulled her wrist away. “My hands are tied. I can’t go easy on him because you have a crush on him, Ruby. He had Martinez’s blood on his hands—”

“So did I. I told you that Martinez had been shot. We both had blood on our hands because we were trying to save Martinez’s life. And even so, that’s not enough evidence for an arrest.”

“I’m afraid it is,” she said, her tone hot with impatience. “It may be circumstantial, but combined with other factors, it’s evidence nonetheless. The boy has a record, Ruby. He almost killed someone before.”

“What? He was only protecting his little brothers and mother from his drunk dad,” I argued. “And how is that relevant?”

“Protecting yourself would be calling the police, not taking a baseball bat and putting your own father in a coma for seven days.”

“You don’t know all the facts,” I said, a little thrown by the baseball-bat thing. Liam hadn’t mentioned that detail, and I flinched at the image of him beating his father.

“Neither do you,” she said flatly. “No matter what his father did, he didn’t deserve to be nearly beaten to death. Contrary to what you might currently believe, violence is not the answer. The boy is a danger to society.”

“I should’ve known you would pick sides with the abusive parent,” I sputtered. “You know Liam didn’t do this.”

“That’s not true. He won’t even talk to me. He gave his statement to the police and now he is relying on his two-bit public defender,” she said, rubbing her eyes and smudging her makeup even more. “The whole thing…it just doesn’t look good.”

“It doesn’t look good?” I repeated. Of course, I should’ve seen this coming. “ Looks have always been more important to you than the truth , Miss Botox California. Miss Sham Marriage, Miss Closet Alcoholic. I wonder how it would look if I decided to go see my paparazzo friend Sammy and gave him an exclusive interview on the real life of Jane Rose. Or call up our Bill Brandon and give him—”

“I’m going to bed,” she cut me off, pinching her eyes shut and blowing out a dramatic breath of exhaustion. She was bluffing, and I was calling.

“Drop the charges, Jane, or I’ll drop a bomb on your campaign you’ll never recover from. Bill Brandon will have a whole new set of names to call you,” I said, knowing I’d just crossed the line. But asking nicely wasn’t working. Liam’s life was on the line. “There is no evidence that can’t be explained away. He’s innocent, and you know it. I won’t let you use him as a scapegoat.”

She glared at me, and I almost lost my nerve, but instead of succumbing to her intimidation, I turned it up. “I will not be ignored by you anymore. I will not be neglected and abused because of your career. I will not let you scoff at what I have with Liam. It’s not a fling or a crush . He’s been there for me in a way you never have.” It was all true, but instead of feeling relieved for finally communicating what Liam meant to me, I felt awful for the mean way it came out.

“I don’t respond well to threats, young lady,” she said. “Not from the criminals off the street, and not from the criminals in my own home.”

I flinched, and for a second I thought she did, too. Her words stung worse than a slap to the face. Yes, I’d trailed the men I killed, I’d withheld information from the police, and I’d even “borrowed” a motorcycle from a neighbor without permission. But every life I took was taken either in self-defense or in the defense of others. None of what I’d done looked good—in fact, much of it looked horrendously stupid in hindsight.