I'm sitting in the interrogation room. It's 6:30 AM. They took my fingerprints, took mug shots and a couple of other things. I've just been sitting here, thinking.

I look up as the detectives walk in. It's Detective Wells and another man that I don't recognize.

"Camille," Detective Wells says. He sets down a coffee and pushes it towards me.

"It's Kincaid." A smile tugs on the other detective's face. He looks like he's in his mid-thirties.

"I'm Detective James," he says. He sits down. "Let's cut to the chase: Why did you kill Braxton Thorne?"

"I'd like my phone call," I say, crossing my arms over my chest. Detective James sighs and shoves his phone at me.

"On speaker."

"Shit, she's calling Dimitri," Detective Wells says. I roll my eyes and dial Travis' number.

"Hello?" Travis says.

"Travis, it's Ade. I need you to do me a favor," I say.

"Are you okay?" he asks.

"I'm fine. But my landlord's throwing me out and I can't pack my things," I tell Travis.

"Uh...sure. What do you want me to grab?"

"Clothes from my closet. There's an old box. Just pack everything up," I say. I don't care about the clothes, only the box.

"Are you sure you're okay?" I look at the detectives.

"I'm fine. Thank you, Travis." I take a deep breath. "Can you tell Liana, Preston, Quentin and Daniel that I'm not going to be around for a little bit? I'll find some way to talk to you guys."

"Ade, what's going on?"
"Nothing...just promise me that you'll keep writing," I say. "Good bye, Travis."

"Bye Ade." I end the call and shove the phone at Detective James.

"Why didn't you call your lawyer?" Detective Wells asks, his eyes skimming my face. I take a drink of the coffee.

"I don't need him."

"Why did you kill Braxton Thorne?" I look at Detective James.

"Who says I did?" I ask.

"We have video of you leaving his apartment the night he was murdered." Detective Wells shoves a folder at me. I open it. There's pictures of the crime scene, of Braxton. I look at Detective James. His fingers have nicotine stains.

"Do you smoke, Detective James?" I ask. He frowns.

"Yes. Why?" Both the detectives look confused.

"Can I have a cigarette?" I don't smoke very often. I have a cigarette maybe once every three months, if even then. Detective James shrugs and pulls out a pack of Marlboro's. He shoves the pack and a lighter at me. I stick the cigarette between my lips and light it, inhaling the smoke. "You know, I usually like Virginia Slims."

"That's great to know," Detective James says. "But why would you kill Braxton Thorne?"

"Does your wife know you smoke?" I ask. He's wearing a wedding ring. He frowns.

"I don't see why that matters."

"Does she know?" His jaw ticks.

"No," Detective James says, "She thinks I quit."

"We all have secrets," I say. I look at Detective Wells. "For example, Detective James, did you know that your partner gambles?"

Detective Wells' face reddens.

"That's ridiculous! I mean-"

"You have cards in your pocket. You fingers tap the table. I saw bills on your desk, would you like me to go on?" Detective Wells shakes his head. I inhale some more of the cigarette and blow it out. "We're all hiding something."

"What are you hiding? Something about Braxton?" Detective James says. "Denial doesn't last."

"Stupid bitch!" Braxton yelled. He shoved me into a rack of something. We were in a supply closet. He had asked to see me in the hallway and pushed me into the closet.

"Someone could hear you," I said quietly. He'd been getting more aggressive, putting his hand on my leg: letting his hand slip and brush my breast.

"When I touch you, you like it. Stop acting like you don't." He stumbled towards me and his hands fumbled with my blouse.

"You're married, it's not right." I didn't want him to touch me.

"I know you want this. I know what's in those books that you write," Braxton told me. He kept one hand on my breast and the other one slipped to my ass.

"Please, Braxton, stop." My voice was weak, quiet. "Stop," it was only a broken whisper.

"I've waited patiently. I've watched you; the way you dress; the way you look at me. It's only fair that I get a turn."

He started hastily to unbutton and unzip his pants, letting his erection out. I couldn't move, I was frozen in place. My heart was beating a hundred miles per hour and I felt sick. I knew what was coming and I was frozen.

He started to pull up my skirt and a tear slipped down my cheek.

"D-don't. Please don't," I said.

"Shut up! Denial doesn't last. I know you want this." He slapped my cheek and I felt his erection brush my leg. More tears fell down my cheek but I was powerless to do anything. He was panting, breathing raggedly.

Someone opened the door.

"What the fuck is going..." Jasmine started. I knew her, but we weren't friends.

"Nothing," Braxton said sharply, buttoning his pants. "I'll talk to you later, Adelaide."

I sank to the ground, tears streaming down my face.

"Really Adelaide? This is what you do to get ahead?" Jasmine looked at me like I was a cockroach. "Stop being such a whore and get back to work."

The door slammed and silent tears fell down my face.

"Kincaid?" Detective James asks. I blow out smoke.

"If I confess, is there a trial?" I inhale some more of the cigarette.

"What?"

I lean back in the chair and release smoke.

"If I give a confession, would there be a trial?"

The door to the interrogation room opens.

"I guess we'll never find out," Dimitri says. "Come on Miss Kincaid, you have to get ready for arraignment."

"We're not finished," Detective Wells says.

"I don't care. We'll see you during arraignment," Dimitri says. "Take the handcuffs off of my client."

Detective James sighs and unlocks the handcuffs. I rub my wrists.

"We'll see you boys at eight thirty," Dimitri says. I stand up and follow him out, throwing my cigarette in the garbage.

"I don't want a trial," I tell Dimitri. He looks at me.

"Why?"

"Does it matter?" I ask. He sighs.

"Come on, Miss Kincaid. You have to get ready for trial," he tells me. His eyes skim my figure. I'm wearing my uniform from the diner. "When was the last time you ate something?"

"Yesterday." I grab his arm as we're walking outside. "I don't want a trial."

"Too bad. You're getting one." He ushers me into a car. "I'm not sure if you're aware of this, Miss Kincaid, but I don't lose trials. I'm your lawyer now."

I sigh and look out the window. He has a private driver.

"Where are we going?" I ask.

"To my apartment. You need to get cleaned up," he tells me. I roll my eyes.

"Why are you doing this? I'm guessing you're very expensive, Mr. Dimitri. And I have no money."

He looks up from his Blackberry.

"You intrigue me." His eyes meet mine. I look away and back out the window. After a couple of minutes the car stops. He leads me through the lobby and into the elevator. The elevator is crowded and I'm standing too close to Dimitri. I'm pressed into the corner.

The entire apartment building is filled with people dressed in expensive clothes. I keep getting looks from people. I shift.

"What floor do you live on?" I ask Dimitri quietly.

"The twenty-third." I look and the twenty-third floor is penthouse level. Dimitri steps closer to me and I bump into a woman as I step away. She turns around and glares at me. "Don't mind her," Dimitri says quietly.

We get to the twenty-third floor and I follow Dimitri. There's only one door, which Dimitri unlocks.

"How much money do you make?" I ask. The building has twenty-five floors. He grins at me and shrugs. We step into the apartment.

"Did you come back for more?" A feminine voice says. I look at Dimitri.

"Shit," he mutters. "I'm sorry about this."

A woman walks out in very skimpy lingerie, heels and a garter belt. She frowns when she sees me, putting her hands on her hips.

"Who the fuck are you?"

Before I can say anything, Dimitri says, "This is Kincaid. She's one of my clients."

"I won't be for long," I mutter. The woman continues to frown and glare at me. "Can I help you with something?"

"Hmph." She sneers at me and then walks away.

"Look, I'm sorry about her," Dimitri says.

"It's fine. I'm used to it." I shift and look around the penthouse.

"You shouldn't have to be," Dimitri says, frowning. I shrug.

"It's not a big deal. Don't worry," I say. "What is it exactly that you wanted me to do?"

"Get ready for trial. I'll show you where the bathroom is. You can take a shower and I'll find some clothes for you," he says as he leads me through the penthouse.

Everything is sleek and modern; sharp and pristine. It seems like Dimitri is the only one that lives here, despite that woman.

"Help yourself to whatever you want," Dimitri says. We're walking through a bedroom. It doesn't seem to be his room. I frown and bite my lip. I can't figure out why he's doing this...why he's helping me. I'm the type of person that can easily read people but not him.

"Thanks," I say. He nods.

"I'll be in my office." Dimitri shuts the bathroom door. I sigh and lean against the door.

"Get a grip, Ade," I mutter quietly to myself. I look around the bathroom. It matches the style of the rest of the penthouse. There's a glass box shower and a sleek sink.

I turn the shower and take off my clothes. I frown when I see my reflection: there's dark circles under my green eyes. I look like shit, but there's nothing I can do. I step into the shower.

After I'm done showering, I step out and hear a knock on the door.

"Kincaid? I put clothes for you on the bed," Dimitri says. I wrap a towel around myself.

"Thanks."

I slip on my panties and sigh when I see the small scar on my inner thigh. I shake my head and slip on my bra and wrap the towel around myself.

I walk out and then quickly slip on the clothes. They're too small. The skirt barely covers my ass and the shirt hugs my chest and hips. I sigh and grab my uniform from the diner.

I'm walking through the hallway, trying to find Dimitri when I see the woman. She rolls her eyes when she sees me. I'm lost, but there's no way I'm asking her for directions.

"Why are you still here?" she asks. She's wearing four inch heels and I'm slightly taller than her. The lingerie shows off her petite frame, there's not much anywhere.

"Ask Dimitri." I try to push past her, but she holds up her hand.

"Um, bitch, I'm not done talking to you," she says. Her platinum blonde hair doesn't show roots, even though she has dark hair naturally. Her nails are manicured, her eyebrows waxed. I'd guess that she comes from money.

I roll my eyes. "What else do you have to say?"

"He's mine. I don't know what stunt your trying to pull, but Michael is mine, bitch."

"He's my lawyer. I'm probably going to jail. What could I possibly pull?"

"Stay away from him." Her eyes narrow at me. I bite my lip, shaking my head and looking around the hallway.

"Lady, what is it that you think I'm going to do? I don't even want a lawyer, let alone Dimitri-"

"That's nice, Kincaid," Dimitri says. "Is there a problem, Stephanie?"

"No, Michael-"

"Dimitri, not Michael," he says. I frown. He told me I could call him Michael. I'm guessing the woman is his girlfriend, so why would she call him by his last name?

"Anyways, baby, I was walking, minding my own business, and then this girl started saying stuff and swearing and threatening me," she says. I roll my eyes.

"Did you do that?" Dimitri asks me.

"Does it matter?" I look at him. "Can we just get to court? I'll plead guilty and you'll never see me again."

"I think that's a good idea. She's unstable," Stephanie says. I almost laugh at how ridiculous this is, how ridiculous she is.

"I'll talk to you later, Stephanie. Come on, Kincaid. We have to get going," he says. He frowns as we walk out. "Those clothes don't really fit, do they?"

"Whose are they?" I ask. "That woman's? Tiffany is it?"

Dimitri almost smiles.

"Stephanie, and yes they are hers. I hadn't realized that they'd be so..."

"Tiny?" I shift as his eyes rake my figure.

"Something like that," he says. His eyes are so peculiar. They're grey and blue at the same time.

The car pulls up and we get in. I sigh and lean my head against the window.

"How long has it been since you've slept properly?" Dimitri asks. I keep my gaze out the window, watching New York go by.

"Too long."

"Miss Kincaid?" His hand brushes my arm and I flinch, jumping. He frowns. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," I say. "So, when we get to the courthouse, I'll confess and we'll never see each other?"

He frowns and looks up from his Blackberry. "Yeah, that's not how it works. You do realize that a trial is how you walk free, right?" Dimitri asks. I shrug,

"Maybe I don't want a trial," I tell him. A smile tugs at his lips.

"You're so strange. Do you realize how unusual you are?"

We pull up in front of the courthouse and my palms start sweating.

"I don't want a trial, Dimitri. I can't...I just...I can't," I say. "Just let me confess."

"It's jail or a trial." He looks at me. "You'll spend the rest of your life in a jail cell."

"Jail isn't the worst thing," I say, my eyes are wide. "You don't know what it's like-" I cut myself off.

"What what's like?" His eyes search mine.

"Forget it." I press my eyes shut.