Chalk Outline ✅

It Wasn't Me

Dressed in my customary work uniform of a blue shirt and black pants, I stamp out my Marlboro and pull out the ring of keys. Scanning the parking lot, I see no sign of Kayla - the other girl who works the morning shift with me. "Are you serious?" I mumble under my breath. She's always on time.
I go to the front door and unlock it - making sure the closed sign is in place. I open the storeroom up and unlock the register, making sure everything is ready. I need Kayla to do inventory with me though.
As soon as I pick up my phone to call her, she walks in the door. Her long brown hair is left down for once, and her green eyes are sparkling in the convience store light. "You're late." I say gruffly.
She checks the clock on the wall. "Nonsense. I'm fourty seconds early, Trent." She teases. "Inventory?"
Grabbing the clipboard, we head to the drinks in the back to start. Before I know it, we're laughing and joking and done with inventory. She flips the sign to open and I sigh, getting behind the counter.
"I'm going to the bathroom." She says, and heads into the back. I watch her go and then smack myself in the forehead. Why am I such a coward?
A high-pitched scream comes from the back, and I jump over the counter and run into the back. Kayla is laying on the floor covered in blood. I pull her to her feet and she clings to me protectively. "What happened?" I say, trying to see over her head. "Are you hurt?"
"No. No. No. No." She stammers.
I forcefully push her out of the way to see a body, face down, in a pile of blood. From the smell, and all of the blood, I'd say that it's clear that they are dead.
Freaking out internally, I realize that I need to do something. "Kayla, we have to call the police. Don't touch anything."
Leaving her there, I flip the closed signed and grab my phone. "911, what's your emergency?" The nice voice on the other line says.
"Ummm, someone's dead. We just came to work and found them in the bathroom. And Kayla's covered in blood and she's freaking out and I don't know what to do."
"We'll send a police officer to your location and an ambulance." I go back into the bathroom and grab Kayla, pulling her out of there. "Can you describe the deceased?"
"Stay here." I tell Kayla, and then go back into the bathroom.   "Black hair." I mumble. "Male. I think it's Diego Montoya. He shuts down the shop everyday. We work at a convience store."
"First responders are almost there, sir."
"Trent. I'm Trent." I say to her, and then I hear the sirens out front. "They're here." Awkwardly, I hang up.
Police officers come in and I show them to the back room. Two other officers escort me and Kayla outside.
"You found him?" The tall, black, male officer asks Kayla.
"Yes." She whimpers in reply.
"Don't ask her the questions. She's freaking out." I growl at him. The short, Mexican, female officer pushes me back at step.
"We need to figure out what happened!"
"Check the cameras! We were not involved!" I shout at her. Walking away, she talks with another officer who goes inside, presumably to check the security cameras. Kayla leans into me, totally freaking out.
"Diego? Diego?" She asks.
I nod silently and she buries her  in my chest.
After conferring that the murder had nothing to do with us, the officers let us go. Kayla, wrapped in a towel - lets me drive her home. "Who would kill Diego? He's so nice."
"I don't know. The police said they will call when they find out who did it. The security camera outside the bathroom was covered up from nine to eleven last night."
"Nothing was stolen." Kayla says. "Inventory was spotless." Nodding, I turn into her neighborhood.  "How do you know where I live?"
"Oh." I gasp, my cheeks turnimg red. "I followed you home once." Or twice. Or ten times.
Kayla doesn't answer, just shifts in the blanket that the ambulance crew gave her. Opening the door, I help her out of the car and start walking her upstairs to her apartment. "Who would want Diego dead?" She asks again.
"I don't know." I sigh. "I'll let you know if I hear anything."
"Will you stay? I don't want to be alone. What if they come after me next!"
"Kayla." I sigh. "Of course."
I sit in a chair while she showers and changes. I scoll through Diego's facebook and already find a message of his death. Silently, Kayla motions for me to take a shower.
Walking into the bathroom, I find her shirt and pants hung up on the curtain rod - as well as another pair of the same outfit.
Why would there be a second pair?
Unless Kayla killed Diego? No. I'm just freaking out. I've always had an overactive imagination.
After a short shower, I dress in the extra pair of clothes that I always have in my trunk that I brought up. Kayla is laying on the couch, asleep.
Quietly, I leave a note that I went down to the store. I'll buy her something sweet really quick.
As soon as I step outside, the Mexican cop accosts me. "Why'd you do it?"
"Do what?" I ask, surprised by her appearance.
"You killed Diego."
"No! I didn't! Diego was the nicest guy ever! I don't even have a motive!"
"He had the shift you wanted. Was getting paid more money than you."
"That's hardly a reason to kill someone." I scoff.
"Oh, it feels like I'm forgetting something. That's right. We found the murder weapon in your jacket at work." At that moment, I realize that I left my jacket behind the counter.
"I didn't kill him! I'm being set up!"
"You have the right to -"
...
Twelve hours later, I'm sitting in the interrogation room - still insisting that I did nothing.
Still insisting that I see Kayla. So I can know if she's okay. Even when I'm about to go to jail for a crime I didn't commit, that girl is all I think about.
Man, I'm an idiot.
Finally, I'm led out of the room after they tell me that my fingerprints were all over the body and the weapon. Looking up for a second, I see them leading Kayla ahead of me into another room. They must have more questions. Or maybe they are just breaking the news.
She smiles at me - her long brown hair tied up in a bun, and her green eyes sparkling.
Not the smile that you give an aqaintance. Not the smile you give to someone who you used to know who's now, apparently evil. Not the smile you give someone you hate, or dislike, or want to kill.
This is the smile of someone devious. Someone who looks not in the slightest bit guilty for what they did to you.
Of course, I was the only one to see it, and it broke my heart.