93

I’m a fugitive but I didn’t do it. I know, I know. Everybody says that. But I have an alibi, an ironclad one. Trouble is, I can’t use it.

Actually, I could use it but I won’t. So I need to keep running and hiding.

I didn’t kill my girlfriend. I should have, maybe I would have but someone else got to her first. Using my gun. Unfortunate.

I admit I’m not a nice guy, but I’m trying to be better. Lucy and I argued like many couples do. It got heated. I’ve pulled my gun on occasion but I’ve never fired it.

The problem is, I’m in love and I have been for some time. Lucy never learned about her but I’m sure she suspected. I had to be careful. After all, there was a gun in the apartment and things happen when you’re not careful. So, of course, I didn’t tell Lucy anything about Sarah. And Sarah must never know about Lucy.

So, when Lucy turned up dead and my gun was the murder weapon, I was with Sarah and she could have provided evidence that I wasn’t home at the time.

I know now that Lucy—that bitch—was cheating on me and whoever the bastard was killed her and will probably get away with it.

But I can’t possibly tell Sarah or the police. I’ve got a new gun and Sarah would kill me.