the town with darkness | bughead

ch. 14 | the usual suspects

"Forensics came back on the car and, despite the fire, well, we were able to pull a pair of prints off the trunk," Sheriff Keller stated across the table from Jughead in the cold, clinical interrogation room of the Riverdale Police Department, "your's and Betty's, of course no surprise there. But what did surprise me was this." Keller opened a manilla folder on the desk. "Your prints are on file from an incident that happened six years ago where you spent some time with the Riverdale Juvenile Delinquents Centre for uh...attempting to burn down Riverdale Elementary School."

Jughead swallowed thickly but pushed down any trepidation before answering with, "I was playing with matches and that's a pretty tenuous connection for a Sheriff." He knew he was literally playing with fire - pun not intended - but he was exhausted, he was hurting and now it looked like he was about to be accused of murder of all things! He'd had enough.

"Well, Principal Weatherbee also allowed me to have a look at your school records," the Sheriff continued. At that, Jughead felt a stab of doubt pierce his gut. "You have a long and rough history, Mr Jones. Bullied a lot."

"Yeah. My name is Jughead," he interjected, trying his hardest to sound as nonchalant as possible - and trying not to roll his eyes at the Sheriff's leading statement.

"By the football team in particular. I can only assume that would have included Jason Blossom. They beat you up a few times."

"Kids get beaten up at school all the time, what's your point?" Jughead shrugged, biting the inside of his mouth at the immediate shock of pain from his still-swollen right shoulder.

"A couple of times it was so bad you ended up in hospital," the Sheriff said, raising his eyebrows.

"That wasn't-" Jughead cut himself off. There'd been two times when FP had really gone to town on him. He hadn't broken anything but once FP's rage had finished clouding his vision - and his judgment - he realised he'd beaten his own son into unconsciousness. Telling the nurse on duty at the hospital that it had been a couple of asshole football players was a pretty convincing lie. Especially when everyone at school knew the football team seemed to have it in for Jughead anyway.

"That wasn't...what?" Keller prodded. And, even though he was Kevin's father, Jughead was still starting to really dislike the guy and his steely gaze.

"That wasn't Jason Blossom who did that," Jughead replied evenly.

"Who was it then?"

"I...I don't know, I don't really remember what happened."

"Both times?"

Jughead nodded.

"And what about just last weekend? Who did that to you?"

"I didn't see them."

"Can you give me a rough description? Height, weight, hair colour, anything?" the Sheriff questioned.

"I told you, I didn't see them."

"You expect me to believe that on at least three occasions you've been beaten up pretty badly and you have no description of your attacker?"

"First of all, I don't think one black eye counts as being beaten up," Jughead retorted, pointing to shiner currently on his face, "and secondly, this sounds an awful lot like victim blaming."

"Pretty sure a black eye isn't all you've got right now from the way you're favouring your ribs and that shoulder," Keller replied pointing to Jughead's right shoulder.

Jughead went to reply but stopped with a sigh. "What are you getting at?"

"You're hiding things."

"I'm not hiding anything."

"You're hiding the truth about why you ended up in hospital twice. Not to mention why you look like crap right now."

"I'm not hiding anything," Jughead replied, exasperatedly.

"Then tell me who did this to you," the Sheriff said, gesturing to the bruises on Jughead's face.

"I told you, I don't know. They came up behind me in the trailer park and just started beating me up. I never saw them. I was kind of too busy trying to make sure they didn't do any lasting damage."

"Any cameras at the trailer park?"

"What do you think? It's on the South Side. There's no CCTV anywhere there."

"Maybe I should pay a visit to your father? See if he knows more about why you're turning up to school covered in bruises." The tone of Keller's voice changed. It made Jughead anxious. It also made him think that the Sheriff had a pretty good idea of why Jughead was getting hurt.

"You don't have to do that. He doesn't know anymore than I do."

"You seem nervous, you having problems with FP?"

"Not more than usual," Jughead replied under his breath.

"What did you say?"

"Nothing. I'm not having any problems with my Dad."

"Would you tell me if you were?"

"I...what? I don't know, yes?" Jughead replied, frowning. "Look if this is why I'm here then can I just go?"

"That's not why you're here," the Sheriff said sternly.

"Then why am I here then?" Jughead asked, his voice raising slightly.

"How 'bout this," the Sheriff said, leaning back in his chair. "How 'bout you tell me your whereabouts on the week of July 11th."

"This is crazy. You think I-" Jughead stopped himself mid-track not wanting to even say it out loud.

"Jughead," Keller said, almost breaking out into a grin. "Kid like you, raised on the wrong side of the tracks by a deadbeat dad, bullied by kids like Jason Blossom. I mean, who wouldn't want to lash out at that?"

"I'm not talking to you anymore. I want a lawyer." Jughead said, crossing his arms in front of him, wincing at the pull on his shoulder.

Sheriff Keller nodded and stood up. He walked to Jughead's side of the table and stood behind Jughead who couldn't stop the involuntary shiver running down his spine. The Sheriff placed his hands on Jughead's shoulders and Jughead gasped quietly as Keller's heavy hand squeezed his right shoulder.

"A kid is dead, Jughead. I'm pretty sure you know way more than you're letting on. I'll find out, eventually I always find out." Keller gave Jughead's shoulders a final, crushing squeeze before dropping his hands and leaving the room. The slam of the door closing made Jughead jump in his seat.

Jughead bit his lip, wiping furiously at his glassy eyes and focusing on pushing down the pain that was threatening to make him throw up. Not to mention the anxiety making his stomach flip out. He didn't have an alibi for the 4th of July and he'd just bummed around at home for most of the week after since Archie'd quit their road trip. He couldn't prove that he didn't kill Jason. He groaned softly and rested his elbows on the table and his head in his hands. He was screwed.