“Clients?” My dad asks, confused.
I’m confused too. I never knew she was selling, only that she bought them from other students for herself.
“Yes. It appears Miss Hackford had a side hustle. She kept records of who sold her pills and who she redistributed them to.The last name on the list was Mason Keller, dated the day Ella passed away.”
“You think Mason murdered her?” My voice sounds distant even to my own ears.
“After we found out about her client list, we had the coroner look through his findings again. Upon closer look, there were the beginnings of some bruising on her face, an indicator that someone may have pressed a hand over her mouth—presumably to force her to swallow the pills.”
Bile floods my throat. Cull puts his hand on the back of my neck and squeezes, the pressure grounding me just enough to keep it together.
“We arrested him at his residence, but he was so blitzed out of his mind, he couldn’t even tell us his name. He’s in the drunk tank, sobering up. In all my years as an officer, I’ve never seen someone so out of it.”
We all take a moment to absorb this information, but I’m confused.
This should feel like relief.
It doesn’t.
Maybe it’s just information overload and I can’t process anything at the moment.
“And what does this have to do with Hudson and Cullen’s case?” Mom asks, tears falling off her chin.
“Well, the evidence points to Mason and it makes the most sense.”
“But you don’t have concrete proof?” Mom pushes. “You’ve already questioned him and let him go.”
“We have all we need now. And with a murder charge pending, we can keep him detained. You shouldn’t have to worry anymore.” He smiles wide, his yellow teeth on full display.
“Now, we have some clerical things to attend to.” He pulls a stack of papers from the file he brought in and hands them to Cull. “These need both of your signatures.”
Cull takes the pen his mom hands him and signs, then slides the page to me. I hesitate, reading the charges: Assault, stalking, destruction of property. Cullen nudges me and hands me the pen, nodding towards the line that needs my signature.
That nagging feeling comes back, that something isn’t right with this situation.
I look at the detective who is conversing with our dads. “Detective Whitfield?” He looks over at me expectantly. “What do you think Mason’s motive was to attack Ella?”
He just shrugs. “Who knows with these junkies, but he has a nasty infection on his arm—looks to be some sort of defense wound. We think Ella may have struck him with something. When he’s sober enough, he’ll be questioned.” Then he goes back to his conversation.
“What’s going on?” Cull asks. There's sweat on his brow, and he still looks like he could blow chunks at any moment.
I shake my head. “I don’t know. I just have this feeling…”
“What kind of feeling?”
I look Cull in the eyes. “Something about this doesn’t sit right.”
Cullen forces a smile. “They arrested the scum, baby. Maybe it just doesn’t feel real yet after everything that has happened. And it’s a lot to take in to learn that Ella was…”
He doesn’t finish that sentence, but he doesn’t have to.
I look back down at the paper.
Maybe he’s right. I put the pen on the line and sign my name, sealing the fate of my supposed stalker and Ella’s murderer.
But why does it feel wrong?
Cullen
