Guilty (BWWM)

On the Run

Past

Wednesday, March 25, 2013

12:18 a.m.

The darkness of the night was working for and against her as she stealthily trudged through the bushes, hiding every so often. Red and blue lights illuminated the streets as they whizzed by. Getting out of this was going to be much more difficult than she'd anticipated.

Corrine's dark attire successfully cloaked her, effectively blending in with the nighttime background. The roar of the sirens had surely disrupted the neighborhood residents' sleep. Many were observing from the windows of their homes. Others were being alerted of the crime that'd taken place that night.

She knew that it would only be a matter of time before everyone in the neighborhood was misinformed. After that, she was sure that her all white neighbors would be more than willing to give her up. Though they were polite to her face, mainly when Richard was present, she recognized the glint of disapproval in their eyes whenever they presumed she wasn't paying attention. Like when she'd be out on her morning jog or simply whenever she'd tried to form conversations with them.

They didn't have to vocalize anything, their actions were loud enough. From the first moment the Morrisons moved to the quiet suburban neighborhood, her neighbors had made it crystal clear that she wasn't accepted.

Yeah, she thought, those assholes probably can't wait to bash me.

Corrine ducked behind a bush upon noticing the headlights of a police vehicle. Panting and sweating profusely, she was exhausted. For the past hour she'd been doing this same routine. Tired as she was, salvation was only a few minutes away. Once she reached the main roads, Corrine planned to call on the one friend that she'd managed to have, Valencia.

Valencia Ruiz was a dance teacher at the studio that Corrine owned. The two were so close, they were practically sisters. Corrine started The Studio so that the lost young girls of the 'hood could have something other than the unforgiving streets to turn to. Once Valencia learned what Corrine stood for, she was all for it.

Finally, she'd reached her destination. She pulled up her hood before slowing down her run to a moderate speed walk. Hopefully she didn't look too suspicious but who was she kidding? A black woman walking alone at 12:30 in the morning? That was bound to raise a few eyebrows.

She took out her iPhone and hurriedly dialed her close friend's number. Due to the time, she hasn't really expected an answer on the first call, but to her surprise, Valencia answered on the third ring.

"Girl, do you know what time it is?!-"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Listen, Val, I am in deep shit right now and I don't have time to explain over the phone. I need you to meet me somewhere."

****

Hearing the urgency laced in her friend's voice, Valencia had no choice but to shake off her sleep and borrow her husband's car. Valencia sped through the empty park, and horribly parallel parked next to the curb. She rushed to the rusted, metal bench that a hooded feminine figure, that she could only assume was Corrine, was pacing back and forth.

"Cori, what's up? " Valencia said as she raced to her, snapping Corrine out of her panicked daze.

"Okay, before I tell you, you have to promise to listen completely." Valencia nodded. "When I came home, about an hour ago, I found Richard's body- his dead body." Valencia's eyes widened. It was only then that she'd noticed the frazzled state of her friend.

"Somehow the police were notified and his partner walked in on me standing over his body. This motherfucker blamed me. Like I would ever even think of hurting my husband, let alone killing him. Now I'm basically Baltimore's Most Wanted. I would never ask you to get involved in my shit, but I really need somewhere to lay my head for the night until I come up with a game plan."

Valencia hadn't even hesitated to nod her head. "You already know, I got you no matter what, Cori. No questions asked."

****

Present

Thursday, June 13, 2013

12:17 p.m.

The two of them sat silently glaring at one another. One had a look of skepticism, the other remained stoic. The atmosphere in the interrogation room grew thick with doubt as both of them tried to piece together the unbelievable story that Corrine just tried to feed him. Detective Lockhart eyed Corrine closely, trying to figure her out.

For a woman suspected of murdering her husband, she was entirely too calm. Kyle observed her body language. Corrine's posture was straight and proper, usually people who were nervous-or trying to hide that they were nervous-tend to have a twitch of some sort. Some bounced their legs; some chewed their lips; some twiddled their fingers. As she picked apart every visible component of Corrine's body language, she couldn't find a single one; the woman was completely unreadable.

Something was up and she was going to get to the bottom of it.

"That's bullshit," Connor finally spoke "So you mean to tell me that a man that I'd been partnered with for over a decade was mixed up with illegal dealings with Bleu? I don't believe that for a second. Even if that is true, why didn't you say anything before you ran off and became a key suspect?"

Corrine gave a dry smirk, "It's just as you said, Detective. You don't believe me now so why would you have believed me then. I did what I did because I had no choice but to do so." Connor ran a frustrated hand down his face. Corrine was definitely playing her role. Kyle watched the two of them silently, analyzing the thick tension between them.

"Look, Corrine, we both know what the truth is, so you might as well come clean about it," Connor spat through gritted teeth. Kyle's eyes narrowed at the way he spoke, as if there was a secret that she wasn't in on. Corrine slammed her tightly clenched fists on the table in front of her, causing her silver handcuffs to jingle.

"I said I didn't do it!" She shouted. There was no way in hell she would take a plea bargain for a crime that she did not commit. Corrine would go to war for her freedom. Connor grinned triumphantly from seeing her fuse get shorter.

She'd crack soon, he felt it; when that happened he was going to be sure to get the confession on tape. Then he would be free of the mess he'd gotten himself in.

"I. Don't. Believe. You. In fact, you know what I think?" He leaned forward on the table, invading Corrine's personal space.

"I think you finally got tired of him cheating on you with every woman he came in contact with. You got tired of feeling like he was ashamed of having a black woman on his arm and when you saw him with Kyle here," He nodded in the direction where a silent Kyle Lockhart was leaning on the wall, arms crossed.

"You lost it. That's what happened wasn't it, Corrine? That's why you killed your husband, you sick bi-"

"O'Riley, I think that's far enough." Kyle said as she took her seat next to Connor, side-eyeing warily as if just noticing that he was what was off about this situation. Reverting her attention to Corrine, after taking a mental note of her suspicion, she said, "Personal dealings aside, we're officers of the law and part of our job is to keep our biases to a minimum. I suggest you remember that and maintain your composure, Detective. Mrs. Morrison, if you didn't kill him then who did?"