After Rebirth, I Cleared My Name Through a Drunk Driving Incident Chapter 04

After Rebirth, I Cleared My Name Through a Drunk Driving Incident Chapter 04

The air turned ice cold. 

The lead detective looked at me like I was already convicted. “Claire Mitchell?” 

My heart sank. Here it was. Just like last time. Except 

now I wasn’t at home. I wasn’t at the crime scene. 

“Come with us. You’re under suspicion for first–degree 

murder.” 

The officers nearby all froze. I stayed strangely calm. I already knew this was coming. 

“Murder?” I shot back. “Who exactly did I murder?” 

“Your sister–in–law, Jessica Lawson,” the detective said. “She was killed in your apartment last night.” 

The whole room went silent. My face went white. My 

body swayed. 

That part wasn’t an act. Even with a second chance, hearing Jessica was dead still tore right through me. She’d been young. She’d been kind. And now she was dead, and someone was using her death to destroy me. 

“That’s impossible,” I snapped. “I never went home 

last night.” 

The detective gave a cold laugh. “Didn’t go home? We 

have a complete chain of evidence, and every part 

points to you.” 

Then he started listing it off. Every word matched my 

last life. 

“The hallway surveillance shows you dragging Jessica 

inside after eight.” 

“The living room camera shows the two of you arguing 

and getting physical.” 

“The medical examiner recovered your skin cells from 

the body.” 

“Your neighbor gave a statement saying they saw you 

force her inside.” 

He stared at me. “Witnesses, physical evidence, surveillance. Everything points to you. What do you 

have to say?” 

Last time, I fell apart right here. I kept trying to explain, and every word made me sound guiltier. 

This time, I just looked him straight in the eye. “What time are you saying she died?” 

He answered coldly. “Roughly 8:30 p.m.” 

8:30. I almost laughed. That was the exact minute I was signing paperwork at the station. 

The detective reached for my wrist to cuff me. “You’re coming with us.” 

Then a sharp voice cut across the room. “Hold it right 

there.” 

Everyone turned. 

Rachel Harding. She was in her forties, hard–faced, calm, and carried the kind of authority nobody wanted to challenge. She’d solved major cases before moving to traffic enforcement for a quieter assignment. 

Instead, she’d been promoted to lead the whole 

division. 

She looked at the homicide detectives and said, “You’re claiming she murdered someone at home at 8:30?” 

They nodded. “That’s right.” 

Harding smiled. It wasn’t a nice smile. It was cold. Mean. And furious. 

Then she said, “Do you people investigate with your heads or with your asses?” 

The room went dead silent.