Chasing Innocence | ✓

3 | unravelling lies

"He's an hour late."

A cold frost has settled over the sky as I sit inside Davina's heated office. She paces the floor; patent heels clipping as she moves around the room determinedly.

"Give him time," she nods, placing a hand on her chin. Her black hair is pinned up in a secure, slick bun. Not one strand of hair is out of place on her head, unlike my unruly set of soft brown curls that take hours to tame.

"What if—"

Before I get the chance to doubt Braxton's arrival, in he walks. His long strides cause him to walk the room in a matter of seconds. He collapses against the couch to the left of me, breezing by wordlessly.

"Nice of you to join us," Davina remarks, an eyebrow cocked. "Held up?"

Braxton acknowledges her with a small glance. His knee bounces as he crosses his arms over his chest.

The click of heels is what I choose to focus on as Davina sits opposite Braxton, her predatory gaze focused solely on him. "I need your cooperation for this to work," she implores. "I'm on your side."

He scoffs, raking a hand through his hair. His eyes flicker to mine; darkening. I clench the pen in my hand as they narrow.

Davina notices the exchange and clears her throat. "Can you explain to me why you were found at the crime scene by the local police?"

Braxton's eyes move back towards Davina as I flick to a fresh page, prepared to take notes.

"Wrong place, wrong time," he remarks.

Davina pauses, head cocked to the side as she watches Braxton closely. "Is that the best you have?"

"What are you? My fucking psychologist? You aren't supposed to question my story, you're supposed to believe it."

"Are you telling me how to do my job now?" Davina responds. "You put it perfectly, actually. It's merely a story, Braxton. A story you truly believe will sway a jury in your favour?"

"This is bull—"

"If you want to rot in a prison cell for the rest of your life," Davina snaps, leaning forward, "then so be it. But if you want to fight this — and I mean truly fight for your freedom — then I suggest you stop being a stupid, immature little boy and grow the fuck up."

The room quietens. I watch Braxton; my pen dangling between my fingertips as I wait for his reaction.

"Wrong place, wrong time," he mutters, clenching his fists. "I didn't know the guy and I sure as hell didn't kill him."

"But you know who did," Davina remarks. "Don't you?"

Something flickers across Braxton's face, but it's gone in a blink. "I didn't do this," he says, avoiding the question. "Believe what you want."

"I'm choosing to believe you," she continues. "But it'll only work if you believe in yourself."

Braxton scoffs, a dangerous smile gracing his full lips. "How fucking cliché. Spare me the inspirational speaker bullshit and get to the point."

Davina perches on the armchair opposite Braxton, her arms crossed across the black blazer she wears. The vibrant blood red of her nails shine in the light as she taps her arm.

"Start from the beginning," she says, gently. It gives me pause as I watch her soften.

Braxton clears his throat, raking a hand through his hair as he shifts his eyes towards the expansive windows.