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CHAPTER TWENTY

J acob could feel the simmering rage behind him. He didn’t turn, and the cop at his back didn’t shove him into the room.

But it was close. “In here.”

Jacob was surprised they didn’t shackle him to be paraded through the police station like the criminal half the cops in Benson thought he was. Didn’t matter which precinct they took him to, the reception would be the same. But they used the main station downtown—the building with headquarters upstairs.

The one with Addie’s office at the front, across the hall from the police reception desk.

Too bad they brought him in the back entrance so he couldn’t see it. Was she still at his studio? None of them had told him, and Hank didn’t get in the car.

Jacob looked back at the hall but didn’t see his friend.

Captain McCauley paused in the doorway. “Detective Maxwell won’t be conducting this interview.” An officer handed him a paper file and McCauley shut the door. “Take a seat.”

Jacob was tempted to lean against the wall and not sit, just to be contrary. Instead, he pulled out the chair and settled across from the captain.

He wasn’t interested in Hank getting in the middle of this. His friend didn’t need to have his career marred by an association with Jacob. At least not any more than it already was.

Still, a little solidarity wouldn’t have been a bad thing.

Hank’s hands might be tied so that he couldn’t step out of the boundaries of procedure and the oath he’d taken. Jacob didn’t want him to do that. He wanted any cop to be someone people could rely on to be honorable. That meant Hank not bending the law—even just to reassure him.

Jacob was on his own here.

“What can I help you with?” He figured he might as well begin as though he was doing them a favor. Not that he was well aware they’d love nothing more than to trap him into confessing to some crime.

Celia Jessop’s murder.

The captain opened his file and studied the contents. Probably waiting in the hope Jacob started talking just to fill the awkward silence.

But Jacob didn’t see silence like that. There was usually some noise, some sign of life, if you listened closely enough for long enough. His cats. Traffic on the street below his apartment. He could hear officers in the hallway and a phone ringing—signs of life that were probably reassuring to the captain to know his people were close by.

All designed to make Jacob believe he was on his own in here.

Which he didn’t need to be. “Do I need a lawyer?”

McCauley looked up. “You aren’t under arrest.”

“So I’m free to leave at any time?”

McCauley’s expression shifted a fraction. Jacob wasn’t sure if that was supposed to be an agreement or if the guy was displeased Jacob knew that.

“You know, you guys are the reason I have to keep apprised of my rights.”

McCauley lifted a brow. “Because you feel the police victimize you?”

“What do you think?”

“Criminals often feel targeted by the police. Mostly I’ve found it to be down to guilt of the wrong you know you’ve done.” McCauley shrugged. “You go to church. I’m sure you’ve heard the pastor talk about conviction.”

“And you’ve heard him talk about unjustly judging someone.” Jacob couldn’t help but fire that back. He didn’t have the energy to hold his tongue, probably something he should put that mention of church experience to work dealing with.

He was just about to pray over that when McCauley said, “So how about you go over your whereabouts at the time of Celia Jessop’s death one more time. For my records.”

Jacob considered his words before he spoke. The captain would try and get him flustered and reacting before he thought. That was the last thing Jacob needed to do, even if he had nothing to do with Celia’s death.

Jacob shrugged one shoulder. “When did she die?”

“Tuesday night.”

“What time did you say?”

McCauley paused. “Between one thirty and three thirty.”

Jacob blew out a breath. “The last time I saw her and we talked was a couple of weeks ago.”

“That was the conversation the boyfriend”—McCauley looked at his notes—“interrupted?”

Jacob nodded.

“Guess he sure got the wrong end of the stick.”

Jake didn’t like the tone. He’d have fired something back, but whatever it was didn’t matter. McCauley had already decided he was guilty and lying about it.

Though the town was contending with a killer who kidnapped high schoolers once a year. The police had everyone convinced they had the man in custody two weeks before Jacob and Addie went to theirs. It turned out that wasn’t the guy—and they were taken. He hadn’t been the accomplice either—just some guy designed to be a red herring.

Then Becca Cowell had been killed.

The police in Benson had been trying to repair the public’s trust in them ever since. Whether it was working or not was hard to say. A couple of outfits in town did private security work—one, Vanguard, was all women. He didn’t get involved in a lot of it.

Jacob liked his solitary life.

He realized the captain was just staring at him.

“What?”

McCauley stared. “Where were you when Celia was killed?”

“Oh.” He frowned. “Sleeping, like I told you at my apartment. So why do you need me to tell you again?”

He could think of a few reasons, and none flattering the captain and his ability to do his job. More likely McCauley had been there the other day to ask this same question with the express purpose of throwing Addie into Jacob’s private space and seeing how he reacted.

Maybe McCauley figured he would snap. Kind of like right now.

“New evidence has come to light.”

“Oh?” Jacob frowned. “What’s that?”

“Nothing you need to worry about right now. What you need to worry about is telling me the truth. It might help explain this new evidence.” McCauley sighed. “So how about this. When we look at your computer—which we will soon enough—are we going to find photos of Celia Jessop?”

“You get that I’m a professional photographer, right?” Jacob frowned. “Or do you think that’s just a cover so I can give in to some dirty secret you’re so certain I’m hiding?”

“I guess we’ll find out as soon as the warrant comes through.”

They were going to tear apart his entire life. “How about I save you some trouble?”

“How’s that?”

Jacob leaned forward slightly. “I. Didn’t. Kill. Her.”

“I can see why you might want a judge to believe you were cooperative, so they can take that into account when murder charges are filed.”

“Because you think all I’m trying to do is look good?” Jacob said. “Because I’m so guilty?”

“You tell me.”

The truth was, Jacob didn’t feel the need to plead his case. He could scream and cry over the injustice of being accused, but there would be no evidence he’d killed that girl. How could there be when he didn’t do it?

“I was asleep.” Jacob shrugged one shoulder. “How could I have killed her when I didn’t leave my apartment?” He paused a second to wonder how diabolical the police thought he was since Hank was at his place for breakfast when Jacob had come back from the gym.

“That only leaves the onus on me to prove you did.”

That didn’t sound like a happy invitation. “I guess it does.” Jacob had to wonder—again—why they brought him in suddenly now. “Unless there’s some evidence I don’t know about.”

McCauley nodded. “When you’re arrested, you’ll want to talk to your lawyer about trying to explain how your fingerprint is on a clear, sticky residue affixed to the victim’s abdomen.”

“My fingerprint?”

He nodded again.

“On like, glue?”

“You tell me.” McCauley paused. “It’s your print. A partial one, anyway.”

“So not a print, but a bit of one that you think is mine?” That sounded inconclusive at best. “I haven’t seen Celia for two weeks where I was even close enough to touch her. Why wouldn’t she have taken a shower since?”

“That might be an angle you want to take up with your lawyer. When you need one.” McCauley’s eyes flashed. For a second he looked pretty smug. “A partial match is still a match.”

Jacob stood. If that were true, they’d have a warrant for his arrest already.

All he wanted to do was go to Addie.

Considering McCauley was right, and he would need a lawyer if the cops kept up with this, he should probably get on that first. Maybe Russ knew a good one—someone he’d hated as a former federal agent. That would be a quality shark who might manage to keep Jacob out of jail.

He needed to face the fact that was where the police wanted this to go. The place where he’d end up convicted of a crime he didn’t commit.

And yet, the only person whose opinion he cared about was Addie. As long as she knew he hadn’t done it, that would enable him to face anything.

“Don’t leave town.”

Jacob turned back at the door. He wanted to jump on that comment but knew it was better he didn’t. He hadn’t lost it yet, but only barely. “And you’re going to take apart my whole life?”

“That’s the plan.” McCauley leaned back in his chair. “If you didn’t do this, then I guess you have nothing to worry about.”

“Sure. After all, no one innocent ever went to prison for a crime they didn’t commit.”

McCauley stood. “Are you besmirching the good name of?—”

Jacob didn’t wait for him to finish. He pulled open the door and stepped into a busy hallway. All he needed was air, and he’d be able to think this thing through. That had always been what he needed. Ever since freedom was taken away from him and he was locked in that cabin with Addie.

Don’t leave me.

He couldn’t decide if she’d said that today, or years ago. It all blurred together in his mind. History melded into the present, and all of it washed with pure fear. The idea he might never see the light of day again.

Trapped with no way out. A victim, but this time at the whim the same people who had rescued him from Ivan Damen years ago.

Jacob hit the bottom step of the precinct almost at a run and nearly slammed into someone.

“Whoa.” Hands grasped Jacob’s shoulders.

He shoved his arms out, dislodging the grasp before he realized it was Hank. “Hey.” Jacob squeezed the bridge of his nose and tried to push out the panic.

“Did it not go okay?”

“My fingerprint is on a dead girl’s body.” Jacob made sure to keep his voice low. “Maybe. How do you think it went?”

Hank winced. “I try to be the voice of reason, but they know how close we are.”

“I know.” Jacob couldn’t feel the reassurance, though. “Thanks.”

“You think I’ll ever not have your back?”

He shook his head. Still, Jacob couldn’t get rid of thoughts of Addie. Where was she? Had the smoke made her throat as raw as his? He should be going home to hibernate until he got his energy back. Recharge his battery, as it were. Find a lawyer who would help him beat a murder rap.

He squeezed his eyes shut. All he could see was Addie. “I just hope the one tiny part of McCauley that’s wondering if I didn’t do this gets enough airtime that a killer doesn’t get away with it because the captain is so busy trying to pin it on me.”