The door opens. "Put your wrists together," the guard says. I do as told and the cuffs click over my wrists. He squats and places shackles on my ankles.
"Is that really necessary?"
"Yep."
I sigh and follow him out of the cell. I'm brought to a room and set at the table. Seconds later, the door creaks open, and a woman in a dress suit struts in. She glares at me, not trying the slightest to hide her disgust with me. She looks like a fucking bitch from hell, overly confident with something to fucking prove.
"Mr. Pearson. I'm Detective Lowe. FBI," she says as she flashes her badge.
I slump in my chair and glare up at her. "You're wasting your time coming in here. I know my fucking rights."
"I'm not here to ask you questions." She smiles and rests against the edge of the table in front of me. "I'm just here to let you know exactly how much you've fucked up."
I wash all emotion from my face and stare coldly at her.
"I must say, I am impressed." She braces her hands on the table, leaning forward towards me.
"How a man like you ever managed to make a woman like her fall in love with you..." I feel my nostrils flare, and she laughs. "Or maybe, just maybe I should say I'm impressed that a woman like that made you fall in love with her?" She pushes off of the desk and walks in front of me.
"You ruined her life, sad thing is, you aren't done just yet."
I grit my teeth and train my eyes on the floor. I won't talk to this manipulative bitch.
"Mr. Pearson," she coos. "Victoria has confessed to the murder of Joe Campbell. I have enough evidence to put her behind bars for the rest of her life. Granted, they may question her sanity, but then she'll be deemed too unstable to bring up that child of yours." She narrows her eyes at me, a small smirk on her lips.
My heart slams violently against my ribs. "She didn't do anything." I say through gritted teeth. I want to rip this bitches head from her fucking shoulders.
"Sadly, the evidence suggests otherwise. She is willing to go to prison to save you, but you and I both know you are beyond saving." She turns and walks toward the door, pausing when she reaches it. "You say you love her?"
I don't answer.
"You can still save her and your child Mr. Pearson." She opens the door and leaves the room.
Fucking bitch! I'm not an idiot. I know what she's doing, but I don't even care. She wants to ensure I go to jail for a long fucking time. She wants to be the one who brought down Jude Pearson. That's fucking fine. I don't care what the hell happens to me; my only concern is Tor and the baby.
The longer I sit here, the harder my heart races. I cannot let her go to jail. I cannot let her lose that baby. "Fuck!" I shout, my voice booming from the walls.
Several minutes after that bitch has left, my lawyer strolls in. I always hoped I'd never have to use this fucker. He pulls his suit jacket off and drapes it over the chair, staring at me as he shakes his head. He drops a file folder onto the table, and I glance at the guard who is lingering in the doorway.
"Is he just gonna stand there?"
Robert glances over his shoulder, and the guard turns, closing the door behind him.
He stands at the end of the table, drumming his fingers over the edge. "Well," he inhales, "this is a big pile of shit you've fallen into JP."
"Yeah, yeah," I mumble. "Look, I don't really give a shit if you get me outta here, you just make sure she isn't even tried. She's not in the wrong here. At all."
"She's not my client..."
I go to stand up but am chained to the goddamn chair. "Fuck!" I shout, as my blood pressure quickly rises. "You make sure she has a damn good lawyer. She's not spending her life in jail. She's not having my damn baby in jail!" My voice booms from the walls. My pulse drums up into my throat. "You fucking hear me, Rob? Get her the fuck outta there."
He stares at me for a second. His lips press into a hard line, his chest expanding as he pulls in a breath. "You know she had blood on her hands, JP, literally? They might try and paint her as an accessory. She won't get jail time, but they can section her. Anyone in their right mind will call her mental health into question. I can't promise—"
"No." I shake my head. "You can't let them question her fucking sanity! They'll take the baby away from her." I can feel the panic creeping around my throat again. "You get her the fuck out."
He releases a hard breath and drags his hand down his face. "This is a mess. You realize that?"
I wrack my brain, trying to think of some way to make her understand she has to make me out to be a heartless fucking monster. "Can you give her a letter from me?" I ask.
He taps his fingers on the desk. He's hesitating.
"Rob, just give her a fucking letter for me, would you?"
"Yeah, fine. I'll give her a letter." He plops down into the chair, folding his hands on the table in front of him. "Now, what the hell are we gonna do about you, and this trail of blood you left across half of the southeast?"