Madison Sinclair is Dead
A/N: Bear with me. This story revolves more around the people we don't get to see very often. The story may sound familiar (heh).
Last year my best friend was murdered. The man on death row for her crime could not have done it. Don't ask me how I know- not yet, at least. I should let go. Or at least that's what my school counselor told me. Impossible, I told her. Sometimes I do wonder, though, why I continue to search for the truth when the truth has brought me nothing but hurt so far, but then I remember that my best friend would be starting college today, and then I continue to search. Bring on the pain.
An entire summer of searching for answers has brought me very little information. Hey, don't look at me that way. I'm new to this whole detective biz. The week before she died, she had broken up with her boyfriend for, like, the millionth time. Sure he may be a complete jerk idiot but he would never hurt her. I know that. Plus his alibi was air tight. Out of the country, two witnesses.
Her only sibling was busy at a soccer game with more than half the town watching. Not that this certain soccer star would ever even hurt a fly. Her parents, well, they were in a hotel room on the other side of town. Other than that, I have no clues, nowhere to start.
Who would possibly want to murder my best friend? She may not have been the nicest person to outsiders, but not horrible enough that somebody would want to hit her with something heavy.
Madison Sinclair was the best friend I ever had, and now she's gone. Now I can't trust anybody. Not my old group of friends, not my ex-boyfriend and not even my own family. I am alone in my search. I can only trust myself. I will-
"Shelly Pomroy? What are you doing here?" a snarky voice from behind asks. "Again."
Sheriff Lamb hasn't really been a fan of mine lately. My visits to the Sheriff's department have been more and more frequent. He gives me a mocking smile. I smile back, but not at him. I smile about the past, as I remember that there used to be a time when he was a family friend.
"What do you want this time? Here to tell me some new conspiracy theories?"
"That, and get a good look at you. And may I say, you are getting handsomer and handsomer." Good work Shelly. Good looks and quick wit, you are quite the well-rounded person.
"I don't have time for this." He begins to walk away.
"Neither does Marcus." That gets his attention, even if it is only to turn around and say something snotty. He faces me and gets close. Too close.
"Marcus Wheeler killed Madison Sinclair," he tells me, matter-of-factly.
"Oh, I remember the days when I was just as naïve as you. The days I believed that if somebody was found guilty in a court of law that the person was guilty. But then one day I woke up with the urge to buy a clue." I smile and Lamb shakes his head, which gives me a strange feeling of satisfaction.
"The murder weapon, a giant rock used to bludgeoned your friend to death, came from Wheeler's backyard."
"Anybody could have-"
"Which has an electrical fence around it. Fibers from his favorite ugly sweater were found in crevice of the rock."
"As you said, it was from his backyard."
"He has no alibi, nor would he suggest an alibi. And, oh yeah, her body was found in the back alley behind Wheeler Industries."
"Madison's father had business at Wheeler Industries, she could have been there for a million different reasons. Secondly, Marcus Wheeler has an alibi, he's just too afraid to say it."
"And I suppose you know what it is."
Of course I don't. It could be anything for all I know. Maybe he saw somebody kill Madison and is afraid for his life and the life of his family. Maybe he is protecting somebody. But I don't know. And Lamb knows it. I was at a party and Marcus wasn't. In my heart I know that Marcus Wheeler, my first boyfriend and the only man I'll ever love, is not a murderer.