Page 5 of Ever After
“Thanks for coming in. We should have that warrant soon, and we’ll be in touch.”
She sighs and shakes her head. “This isn’t just about the murder investigation, is it?” She shifts her weight to her other foot, jutting out her hip.
God, she’s smart. Although I remember her from high school, not much slipped past this girl. I shrug, not committing to an answer.
She narrows her eyes. “Well, I’ll tell you this much. I got a strange call last night from a blocked number, and they said something about Nick being dead, but they were still there, and to watch my back.” She shrugs like it’s an everyday occurrence. “Not sure if that’s helpful or not, but thought you could use it.”
Not sure it’s helpful or not! Is she crazy?Someone is threatening her, and she’s so nonchalant about it. I want to rip this unknown asshole to shreds for talking to her like that.
She turns on her heel, and I grab her arm, stopping her. “Hold on a sec. You can’t tell me that and leave. Now I have a million more questions.” I rub my large hand over my jaw, scratching my stubble. “Can I buy you a coffee? We can chat for a few minutes.” When she looks at my hand on her arm, I drop it. I need more information than what’s she’s given me.
She looks at the time on her cell phone and agrees. “I’ve got twenty minutes before I have to meet with a patient. I have time for coffee. Do you want to grab Amelia?”
“No, it’s fine. She has work to do here anyway.” I splay my hand to her lower back and guide her out of the bustling office. A lot of heads turn in our direction, and I inwardly smile.
“I’m capable of walking on my own, Grayson.”
“Right, sorry.” I drop my hand but wish I had the chance to put it back. We step out onto the bustling city and walk across the street to a small cafe. I have so many questions for her, and only a few of them involve the case.
I’m going to get to knowthisFinley if it’s the last thing I do.
Chapter Three
Finley
Our conversation steers away from the investigation and the strange call, but only because I promised he’d be the first to know if I receive another or uncover anything useful. We sit at a small table in the back of the shop and talk like long lost friends.
When he leans forward, I get a tiny whiff of his cologne, and it makes my mouth water.Damn, he smells good.
“So, a psychologist. Why?” He takes a sip of his coffee, his leg bouncing under the table as he waits for my answer. A classic sign of nerves. I wonder what he’s so nervous about.
I take a sip of mine, savoring the taste on my tongue, buying some time to answer. “I don’t think you’ll like the answer.”
He leans back, crossing his arms over his large chest. “You’ve obviously had great success. I’m curious about you.”
I titter then murmur, “You wanted to know.” He lifts his eyebrows in question, and I continue. “You’rethe reason I got into psychology. What you did to me at prom was the shittiest thing, and it stuck with me. You invited me, then left me stranded. Saying yes to you went against my better judgment. Do you know none of my friends were there?” He gives a small shake of his head and looks to the table. “I finally had to call my mom to come and get me. It was humiliating.” I pause and examine him, looking for any signs of his understanding. His jaw locks, and his leg stops bouncing.
“I wanted to learn what would possess a person to do something like that and be okay with it. I want to help others when they feel they have nowhere else to go, even if I’m a last resort for people.” I snort and roll my eyes. “No one wants to talk to a shrink, but Iamable to help a lot of people.”
“Listen, Finley, I really did want to go with you—”
I shake my head and wave my hands in front of my face, stopping him. “Grayson, it’s fine.I’mfine, and what’s done is done. You don’t owe me an explanation for it. It sucked, and it hurt, but I got over it.” I glance at the time on my phone, pick my coffee up, and stand. “I have to get going. Thanks for the coffee. If I remember anything else, I’ll give you a call.”
I walk out of the shop and away from him. I need to get away from his scent and his beautiful face and body. If I didn’t get out of there, I feared I was going to become that smitten school girl again, fawning over his god-like demeanor. He’s the last thing I need in my life right now—just another distraction.
I make it to the small bookstore on the corner by my office, where I agreed to meet with a new patient. He didn’t feel he could wait for the office to re-open to speak with me, and he wanted to have a face to face conversation. I walk through the front door and see a gentleman in his mid-to-late thirties pacing back and forth in the store, head down, muttering to himself.
“Miles?” I ask as I stand in front of him, waiting.
“Doctor Grier.” The tension lines in his face soften. “Thank you for meeting me today. I really need to talk with someone, and I much prefer to have a face to face meeting. I hope that’s okay?”
“That’s fine, I’m glad we were able to make this work. Are you sure you’re comfortable meeting in such a public venue?” He nods. “Okay, why don’t you have a seat, and we can discuss what’s bothering you?”
I smile and motion for him to sit in the plush seat across from me. I pull a notepad out and ready myself. I usually like to write when I’m sitting with the patient and then type my notes in the chart later. I’ve learned the clack of the keyboard can sometimes disrupt people’s thought processes.
He looks around, leans close, and says in a hushed voice, “I know something about Nick Genova I’m not supposed to know, and I can’t go to the police with this information.”
I look up at him and blink in surprise. “Is this something you should be telling me? I mean, if it has to do with his murder, I’d be obligated to tell the detective working on his case. Why are you coming to me with this information?”