Love, Betrayal, and Murder

Ever King has lead an impossibly hard life. She gave birth at sixteen to a baby she didn't want. Five years later, the same little girl was murdered maliciously. Bad luck follows her wherever she goes. And when someone else she cares about is about to die, she refuses to allow it.

First in the Love, Betrayal, and Murder series.

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9. Simon - Ever's P.O.V.

     "Ma'am, do you know Marcy?"

     "Yeah, h-how did you know?" I reply. I'm not looking up, but I can tell the voice is that of a man. A young man.

     "Well, let's see. You're sitting on the ground just outside her room, curled in fetal position like a little kid afraid of facing something, and you're also staring at the floor, crying. Shot in the dark?"

     "Thanks for making me feel stupid."

     "Don't be like that. Listen, I need to talk to you about her."

     "What are you, a cop?"

     "Actually, yes." At this, I gazed upward. I was correct about thinking he was a man. He was holding a gold badge in his hand. He sits down next to me. "Just a standard interrogation. That's all."

     "What's your name?"

     "I ask the questions, but since I will answer that. Officer Simon Warner."

     "Ever King."

     "Right then, now that we have that done," Simon says, pulling a notepad and pen out. "we can begin. How do you know Marcy?"

     "Her adopted mother is my friend. Ex-friend? I don't know; it's hard to explain really. Real long story."

     "We can get to that later. Now do you have any idea-"

     I interrupt, "Don't bother asking if I know who would do this. I don't, but I do. I haven't a clue what happened except what Marcy told me."

     "She can't talk."

     "She knows Sign Language. I know the Sign Language alphabet."

     "And what exactly did she tell you?"

     I take a deep breath ready to spill my guts out. I decide to go into it all slowly, instead of diving in to the pool of emotions. "Were you on the force four years ago?"

     "No, but my father was. Why?"

     "Did he ever tell you about the car bomb?"

     Sudden realization is printed on Simon's face like words on a textbook. "You... you are the mother. The one who lost her child."

     That's something I hate. When someone says Luna is "lost." Lost means that you don't know where she is. I know where she is. She's gone.

     Simon seems to notice his error. "Sorry. I can't believe I said that. Sorry. Really sorry."

     That's another thing I hate. "Sorry" implies that there was something that could have been done to stop it. Kept it from happening. Only Christian and this "S." person can say "Sorry." And me. I should have protected her. That's what a mother is supposed to do.

     "Luna. Her name was Luna. And I always thought Christian killed her, but Marcy says there was someone else. I figure she decided to tell this person. Tell him or her she knew. She must have met at the park."

     "But, why the park?"

     "Witnesses. That's all I can think of. Marcy probably thought there would be witnesses. At least one. Someone to make it to where the killer wouldn't try to get her. But there is one think she didn't think of."

     "What?"

     "Sunday morning. Everyone would be in church."

     "Wow. I don't know what to say. We have three cops on this case, excluding me, and no one has made that observation. You should be a detective."

     I blush. "Fine, put me on the case."

     "I can't do that!" Simon argues.

     "You don't have to give me a gun or badge. I could be a - what's the word? - private consultant."

    "You have to have experience! You can't just wake up one day and be a private consultant."

     "I have experience!" I retort. "Not as a cop, but I read Encyclopedia Brown when I was a kid. And Nancy Drew, and Hardy Boys, and Sherlock Holmes."

     "By that logic, I can waltz outside with a bow and arrow and shoot everyone, because I watched The Hunger Games."

     For about thirty more minutes, we have our little back-and-forth, fighting like an old married couple.

     In the end, I'm on the case.

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