Page 53 of Crossed

Detective Fuller frowns in a way that highlights the deep set of wrinkles around his mouth. “At the Chapel.”

My heart stutters. This is starting to border heavily on invasive territory. These men aren’t from Festivalé—at least I’ve never seen them— but if they know where I work, that means other people might know too.

The thought makes my stomach cramp.

“That’s right,” I confirm.

“And what time would you say you left for the night?”

I spin around completely, leaning against the counter and crossing my arms over my chest. “I’m not sure. I think I got home around three? It was kind of a hectic night.”

Detective Allan lifts a brow, rubbing the salt- and-pepper scruff that sprinkles his chin. “Was it?”

I shrug, biting my lips.

“Do you have anyone who can corroborate that time frame, Miss Paquette?” Detective Allan questions.

“I’m sorry. I’m just a little confused,” I say, pinching the bridge of my nose. “What is all this about?”

My eyes flick past them into the living room where Dalia is coloring with Quinten, her gaze firmly on us. My chest tightens. I don’t want her to hear about what happened with Andrew; in fact, I’ve been actively trying to forget anything happened, but the more questions these guys ask, the more I think this all might be connected to the other night with him.

But how would they even know?

Detective Fuller blows out a breath, his eyes cataloging what seems like every single movement of mine before he looks around at the kitchen. “Small place, huh?”

I cross my arms. “And?”

He lifts a shoulder. “Decent money at the Chapel?”

“What’s that have to do withanything, Detective?” I snap.

He chuckles, shaking his head. “Do you know an Andrew Gleeson, Miss Paquette?”

“Yeah, yes.” I nod, my heartbeat pulsing in the side of my neck. “He comes into the club.”

“And you dance for him?”

I swallow, unease swirling through my veins. “Sometimes.”

“Your boss, Phillip, said you were his favorite. That when he was there, no one else could ever get anywhere near you.”

My muscles tense. I’m not sure what these detectives want or what’s going on, but if they’re talking to Phillip… This whole situation is weird.

“Listen, Detectives, not to be rude, but it’s been a long day and will be an even longer night, so if it’s all the same to you…” I wave my arm between them. “I’d like you to leave.”

“Unfortunately, it’s not that simple.” Detective Fuller steps closer, the heel of his dress shoe clicking on the tile. “You see, Miss Paquette, Andrew Gleeson is dead. And you were the last person he was seen with.”

Chapter20

Amaya

I’VE NEVER ACTUALLY BEEN INSIDE A POLICE station before, and for some reason, after Detective Fuller asked if I’d come to the precinct, I expected to stay in Festivalé. Instead, we drove to Coddington Heights.

Makes sense Andrew would go to a local strip club.

He’s dead.

I’m not torn up over it. Honestly, I never am with things like this. Sometimes I wonder if there’s something wrong with me because when it comes to death, everyone grows sick with grief, but my insides stay a steady numb slate like a hard drive that’s been wiped clean.