Page 1 of Wreckage of Me
1
Becca
“I needto know that he’s okay, and you better tell me now!” I slam my hand hard against the desk of the detective I’ve been conversing with.
Well, it was a one sided conversation with me talking my head off about all the time I spent with Dylan last night, while he just stared at me with an impassive look on his face.
“Ma’am,” he finally sighs, a look of defeat taking over his face. “I’d love to help you.”
“Then do it,” I jump at what he said. “This should be the easiest case you’ve ever worked on!” I slap his desk again, making the pen holder he’s got on it fall to the side, then completely roll off the hard surface.
“The case got transferred to the FBI,” he repeats to me what he told me when I first invaded his space here. “It’s way above me now, and there’s nothing I can do.”
I let out an annoyed huff and throw myself back against the uncomfortable chair he has sitting in front of his desk, dedicated to visitors. It’s most likely this uncomfortable so that people don’t stay long. I’m not regular people though. I refuse to leave until I know that I did everything in my power to help Dylan out of this mess.
“Becca,” Emily’s soft voice calls me from the doorway to this dingy ass room they brought me to when I got here.
“What?” I snap at her without meaning to. “Sorry,” I sigh in distress when I see the stricken look on her face. She’s only tried to help me since it all started this morning. She called her father who was able to call some contacts and find out where Dylan had been taken. However, once we got here, it all became clear as mud.
“My dad just called,” she puts her hand up, showing me her cell phone like I don’t believe her. “He wants us to go back to the hotel. He said that…”
“You go back, Emily,” I cut her off, then try to make it better with a weak smile on my lips. “I need to figure this out.” I then turn toward the detective. “Shouldn’t you be taking my statement? Send it to the FBI?” His eyebrows go up in surprise when I start interrogating him. “Or call the FBI to come talk to me?”
“Maybe you watch too many TV shows, Miss,” he finally chuckles, enraging me even more.
“Maybe you’re not doing your job,” I deadpan, and his amusement dies on his face. What an asshole, I think to myself.
“Becca, uh,” Emily’s voice echoes in the room again, grating on my nerves. “Maybe we should, uh…”
“We need to leave,” a deeper voice startles me out of my annoyance.
“What?” I turn my head to look at the entrance to the room just in time to see Blake Sully pushing Emily out of the way and straight into Puck’s awaiting arms. “Hey, leave her alone,” I put my finger up and point at Blake.
“Lady,” he sighs, “you really don’t know what’s good for you. Let’s go.” It takes him only two giant steps to reach me in my crappy chair. He wraps his paw like hand around my bicep and forces me to stand up.
I comply mostly because I am in shock, and not because I am listening to his directive. Blake takes advantage of my confusion and marches me right out of the room and building. Before I know it, I am standing in front of a pick-up truck that’s parked at the curb.
“Get your hands off me,” I finally snap out of it and pull back.
“Get in the fuckin’ truck,” Blake growls at me. How dare he?
“Ha, how stupid do you think I am? I’m not falling for that again.” I turn around only to run dead smack into Puck.
“Becca,” Emily’s distressed voice reaches me from behind her boyfriend here. “My dad said we need to go back to the hotel with Blake and Puck.” Her voice hitches a bit toward the end, almost like she’s scared of telling me what she needs to.
I am just flabbergasted by this entire situation.
“Are you people crazy?” I turn in a circle to make sure I look each one of them in the eye. “There’s a man in there,” I throw my arm out to point at the police station and almost punch Emily in the face. Puck pulls her back just in time. “Who needs our help,” I continue like nothing happened. I’d be laughing under normal circumstances. “He is being accused of having murdered someone!” I enunciate to bring my point home. “Aren’t you two supposed to be his friends? What are you to him?” I realize with a start that I actually don’t know anything about these people.
What the hell did I get myself into?
“I told him she was a handful,” Blake points at me but gives Puck the look of death. It’s like he’s ready to kill us all. He then turns back to me. “Get in the fucking truck already!”
I jump in distress when he gets into my face like that, but I refuse to back off.
“I am not going anywhere until I know that I did my civic duty and filed my report with the police department so that they know he did not kill anyone last night.”
We are stuck in a staring contest where I’m waiting on Blake to start yelling at me again, and he’s waiting on me to get in the truck already.
