32. Thirty-Two

thirty-two

Charlotte

"Jesus, Karl," I muttered the following afternoon, my heart sinking as I rose to my feet, watching as one of the guards opened the door and escorted him in. He was dressed in hideous, bright orange prison garments, and his face—the face I'd once loved ‘til death due us part, had been clobbered to hell and back. He had two black eyes with severe swelling under the right, and his bottom lip had been split open. It was all I could do not to burst into tears the longer I gaped at him. I'd always heard jail or prison was never a good place for any cop to end up, crooked or not. And given Karl's condition, I suppose those rumors were unfortunately true.

"No touching," the guard callously snapped when I reached out to give Karl a remorseful hug, the reminder forcing me to ease my arms back down to my sides.

"Right. I'm sorry."

"I'm surprised you're here," Karl said as he sat, gaping around at his fellow inmates chatting it up with their loved ones. "What do you want? Are you here to yell at me? Tell me I'm a piece of shit and that you hope I rot in prison for the rest of my life?"

"No, Karl. I'm here to help." Even though the guard was nearby but wasn't exactly keeping hawk eyes on us, I leaned closer to Karl and whispered, "I think you're being framed."

"Really?" he asked, appearing entertained as he slightly leaned back and cocked his head to the side. "And what gave you that idea?"

"Because I spoke to Amber, Karl. That, and because Detective Hutch reviewed the data on your ankle monitor, plus your phone records. We know you haven't seen or spoken to Amber in over a month."

Karl blinked at me, his busted lips parting. "You… You're serious…"

"Yes," I nodded. "I am. But I cannot help you unless you talk to me and are honest with me about everything, Karl, and I mean everything."

"Okay," he immediately agreed, a spark of hope dancing through his eyes. "Ask whatever it is you need to ask."

"Did you have anything, and I mean anything at all to do with Delilah Field's attack?"

Karl kept a straight, serious face as he shook his head. "No, I swear I didn't hurt that girl, Charlotte. I've never even met her."

"Then why does the GPS in your cruiser put you near The Flirty Sanctum on the night she was attacked?"

Karl looked away from me and let out a long, deep sigh. "I was there because I was following you. I've been doing it for quite some time now—months to be exact."

My chest began to heave, but I closed my eyes and calmed myself, having noticed the guard now watching us.

"I know I fucked up, Char, but really, a sex club? You had to stoop that low? Just how many guys are you fucking in that place?"

I folded my arms tightly against my chest, my eyes narrowed, jaw set. "Excuse me?"

Karl just sighed and shook his head, changing the subject. "I was telling the truth when I told you I'd broken up with Kate. I-I missed you. I just wanted to talk to you and try to make things right, but you refused to have anything to do with me. And then the next thing I know, Kate's parents are trying to put me in prison. You were the only person I trusted to help, but since you wouldn't answer my calls and decided you were done with me, I got desperate. So, yeah, I started stalking you, trying to find the right moment to approach you so I could tell you the truth and about the death threats we'd been receiving. I-I just wanted your help, Charlotte, but I swear—I fucking swear I never went into the sanctum that night, or any of the nights I'd followed you. I just sat in my car the whole time waiting for you to come out."

"Okay, Karl." I licked my lips, breathing out as I prepared myself for his next answer. "And what about the packages and texts I've been receiving? They found the burner phone in your apartment, along with the masks."

"I don't know what you want me to say, Charlotte," he said, lifting his cuffed hands and dropping them back down in utter exhaustion. "I didn't send you any packages, nor have I purchased a phone of any kind or have sent you any messages. You know all of the passwords to my accounts. Just take another look, and you'll see I'm telling the truth. I told you Kate and I were being followed, Charlotte. I know it's a long shot, but I think…" He paused, a tear sliding down his swollen cheek. "I think whoever killed Kate could be responsible for all of this."

"And what has you so certain she was killed?" I asked.

"Because when my truck was in the shop, the mechanic told me it didn't have any brake fluid in it, which is bullshit because you and I both know that I've always taken great care of our vehicles."

I nodded. Karl wasn't wrong about that.

"When I asked the guy if there was a leak, he told me no, just that the brakes weren't working because the fluid was gone. Now, again, when I took Kate out that night, I got us there with no problems and the brakes were fine. We were at the restaurant maybe a little over an hour, two at most, and it wasn't like we were paying attention to what was going on outside in the parking lot. That's plenty of time for someone to sabotage my truck and escape without getting caught, Charlotte. I mean, think about it. I'm right about this. I have to be."

"I need proof, Karl. If you and Kate really were being threatened, we need proof to back it up."

Tears shimmered in Karl's eyes. "I-I don't have any. I told you I got rid of everything months ago because I thought it was all bullshit."

"What about Kate? Did she keep any of the death threats?"

Karl shrugged, and I could tell by the look on his face that he truly didn't know. "I'm sorry, Charlotte, but I can't answer that. Kate told me she'd been receiving them, but she never told me if she kept them. If I had to take a wild guess, I'd say no, she probably trashed them just like I did."

"Fuck, Karl."

"But," he continued, his eyes lighting up like he had an idea, "it's possible she may have spoken to her parents about it. If she did, and they can back up my claims, then that should help me, right?"

"It's possible, yes," I agreed. "But it may be hard trying to convince them to help you when they're trying to throw your ass in prison."

"And that's what I need you for," Karl said, his voice pleading. "You can convince them I'm innocent, Charlotte. I know you can."

I let out a sigh. "Karl…"

"I know this is a lot to ask for," he muttered, his voice cracking. "And I don't blame you if you protest. I mean, I do deserve it after what I did to you, but I don't deserve to go to prison for crimes I didn't commit. I've made my mistakes and I'm willing to own them, but I'm sorry, I absolutely refuse to admit to something I didn't do. I need you, Charlotte. If you truly believe I'm innocent, then help me, please. You're literally all I have."

A loud buzzer that rang my ears erupted through the room, signaling visiting hours were over. A group of guards came in and one by one, grabbed ahold of an inmate and began escorting them out.

"Please, Charlotte," Karl begged as he was yanked away from me and toward the door. "At least think about it. Please!"

I didn't know what to say to him and by the time I could form a response, it was too late. Karl was gone, doomed back to his cell with a river of tears flooding down his battered cheeks.