Page 25

Glaring at the officer in front of me, I drop my eyes to the chain securing my cuffs to the bar on the table. “Is this necessary? Are you scared of a little girl?”

“We’ve seen some crazy perps of all genders and sizes here, Miss Moran. Now I’ll ask again, how long have you been dating Killian Blake?”

“Long enough. Do you have a wife, Officer—” my eyes drop to his nametag — “McKendrick?”

He clears his throat, setting his pen down. “Yes, I do. I’d like to stay on topic. How long is long enough?”

“How long have you been married?”

“Ma’am. Why are you avoiding the questions? Is it because you know your boyfriend is a murderer?” Immediately his expression changes like he wasn’t supposed to say that, and all my respect for him vanishes.

What a putz.

“Killian’s not a murderer. Are you?”

“I’m a man of the law, he is not. Do you not understand how serious this is? You will never see your boyfriend again unless you start answering my questions.”

My heart beats harder in my chest. The thought of never seeing him again hurts in ways I never expected, and now it’s a real possibility. “I don’t know exactly how long. A... a few months, I guess. But we’ve been together every waking moment, and I can assure you, he’s no killer.”

The officer grabs his pen and begins taking notes. “A few months. And how did you meet?”

Fuck. We never talked about this, there’s no way our stories will match. I can’t exactly tell the truth.

“To explain that, I need to ask you a question first. Did you read my file or whatever? Do you know the shit that happened with my ex fiance?”

“No, we don’t have any files on you, miss. Enlighten me.”

He interlocks his fingers and raises an eyebrow, pissing me off further. “You ran a search on my name, did you not? Whatever. My ex has been stalking me and a few months ago, he broke into my house and tried to kill me. The cops in my hometown did nothing about it, so I came to Windwinter to get away from him. I was staying in my parents’ cabin.”

“Okay, and where along the way did you meet Mr. Blake? Was it after April 28th?”

The day Killian shot Jack Lawson.

“I don’t know,” I say firmly. “That’s why I was hoping you read the police report I filed. I came to Windwinter two days after that, and met Killian a couple days later.”

“What station did you file this report with?”

He knocks twice on the door when I tell him, leaving me alone for a few long moments, and then sits back in his chair with a sigh. “We’ll find out those dates soon enough. Now tell me how you two met. Your boyfriend seems to have forgotten how to talk, and you’re stringing me along. I want some answers.”

Good boy, Killian. Don’t tell them a fucking thing.

I wouldn’t either, but I know I’ll be more help to him outside of this police station.

“He stumbled up to my front door two days after I arrived. He asked me if he could use a phone, but I didn’t have a cell because I was there hiding from my psycho ex. He looked hungry, so I invited him in for dinner. He told me he lost his mom recently and they used to love to hike together, so he’s just been hiking and trying to remember her. I felt bad for him, so I let him stay the night, then two nights, and things just... happened from there.”

The look he gives makes me want to jump across this table and strangle him. “You mean to tell me you went there to escape your abusive partner, only to invite a strange man you’ve never met into your safe space two days later?”

“Yep. I thought maybe if this one actually killed me, you guys would fucking pay attention.” I attempt to hold up a hand as a forced apology, but the cuffs cut into my wrist. “The funny thing about being abused, Officer McKendrick, is that you become hyperaware of the people around you. Their ticks, their body language, the way they move. I may not be the fastest learner in the world, but I do learn. And something else you may not have considered — women and men are different. When a woman hurts a man, they take it as an excuse to hate all women for the rest of their lives. They use it as an excuse to belittle, abuse, rape, attack, murder. Women on the other hand, our empathy for others doesn’t magically disappear just because someone hurt us.”

Shaking his head, the officer takes a few more notes and moves on. “Alright. We’re not touching on this whole men versus women thing. So you read his body language and felt like you weren’t in danger? Is that correct?”

Jesus Christ on a cracker, I’m suddenly glad he handcuffed me. I’d be in jail faster than Killian if he hadn’t.

“Something like that. How’d you meet your wife? Buy her at an auction, perhaps?”

“Now you listen to me, little girl. You need to watch your m—”

The door opens to cut him off, a woman my age with a blonde bob-cut joining us with a notepad in her hands, and Officer McKendrick straightens in his seat. “Turns out they did have records, sir. They just aren’t in our state’s database. Here’s those dates you asked about.”

He doesn’t notice me flip him off with both hands since the notepad blocks his line of sight, but I can see it on his face when he realizes I can’t give Killian an alibi.

The dickhead smiles.

“I see. Thank you, Officer Wallace. Any luck in the other room?”

She shakes her head, filling me with joy. “He still hasn’t said a word.”

“Because he didn’t do anything wrong,” I snap. “It’s my car, and it was just a burnt out taillight. Can someone explain to me why that means we need to be interrogated?”

“Have you watched the news at all?” he asks, waving a hand to dismiss the other officer. “Have you heard about what happened to Senator Jack Lawson?”

Oh, you mean that he got what he deserved?

I have to be very, very careful about what I say here. “I think I saw that he was shot, but I don’t exactly sit around my cabin and watch the news. What does that have to do with anything?”

“Of course you don’t. Instead you find strange men and invite them into your bed.” I want to kill him. “About half a year before the senator was murdered in cold blood, he was in a car accident with Killian and his mother, Lyra Blake. Has your boyfriend told you about that?”

“Yes, he has,” I admit, knowing lying will only make it look more suspicious. “He told me a drunk driver killed his mother. He didn’t specify his profession.”

“If that’s the case I’m sure he also didn’t tell you about how he threatened the Senator after the fact inside of a grocery store? Screamed at him in front of a dozen witnesses about how one day his karma would come back?” He chuckles at whatever he sees on my face. “Do yourself a favor, sweetheart. Tell me everything you know about the murder and you’ll be free to go. Don’t go down for someone like him.”

“You’ll never be able to prove I had anything to do with it, because I didn’t, so I won’t be going down for anything. I don’t know where Killian was that night but I can promise you he wasn’t out committing murder. I know nothing about anything.”

“So much faith in a man you barely know. Answer this for me, does he own a gun?”

He leans over like he’s watching me closely, but I don’t let a thing show on my face. And I’ve watched enough Bones to know how to lie.

Thanks, Sweets.

Exhaling, I relax my posture, leaning closer to him with my eyes locked on his. “If he owns one, I’ve never seen it. My dad owns several which are at the cabin. All perfectly legal.”

“Any chance you’ll let us look around that cabin nicely?”

The stale coffee in his breath burns my nose hairs as he leans in even further, but again, I don’t flinch.

“Let me see.” I glance down, drawing attention to the blood trickling down my wrist. Did I do it on purpose? Yes. Will I tell him that? Absolutely the fuck not. “No, I don’t think I owe you anything. You can get a warrant. In the meantime, I’m free to go, right?”

––––––––

Killian

When we were handcuffed in the cruiser together, I had the comfort of her arm against mine, but now that she’s in a different room I find it hard to keep my shit together.

We just admitted we’re in love, and now we’re being questioned by police. That isn’t how this night was supposed to go. Fuck.

They leave me in the room for a while, ensuring I’m nice and uncomfortable and worried about my girl, and I have to admit they succeed. I feel like shit.

The officer who walks in clocks it immediately. “Mr. Blake. You look tired. Can I get you some water?”

Even drinking water sounds like a chore, but I might look guilty if I deny it. Or is it worse if I take it? If I pretend I’m unbothered I’ll come across as cold. If I act emotional they’ll think it’s an act. I’m damned if I do and damned if I don’t.

So I just sit here and keep my mouth shut.

She peeks her head out the door and yells for some water, then sits across from me. “I’m Officer Meril. Can you state your name for the record please?”

I’ve already told them my damn name. “Killian Blake. And I have nothing else to say.”

“I understand. You’ve been through a lot, I’m sure. I’m just here to help. Can you tell me what your friend’s name is?”

I shake my head no and drop my gaze. It’s obvious she’s playing good cop here, and I really should work with her, but I’ve seen enough tv to know most convictions happen because people can’t keep their mouths shut. “She already gave her name.”

“How did you meet her?”

That’s not something we planned out ahead of time, so I drop my gaze to my hands and go completely mute.

An investigator enters the room to join us with my glass of water, setting it in front of me before he takes a seat. “How is it going in here, Officer Meril?”

“He’s suddenly forgotten how to speak. I was just about to explain to him that cooperating with us is the best way to ensure he ever sees his girlfriend again.”

That gets my attention more than it should, especially because I know how cops work with their empty promises and fake deals. Unless there’s a legal paper to sign, they can say anything to get me to cooperate and then back out the second I give them what they want. I’m not falling for it.

Still, they have me worried for Joey. Not about the fact that she’ll tell them anything against me — I know she won’t — but the fact that she’ll make them feel small and insignificant if they back her into a corner. Cops don’t like dealing with people smarter than them, and I don’t want her getting in trouble for me. “Can I see her right now?”

“She’s busy,” Meril says calmly. “Let’s cut to the chase, Mr. Blake. We know who you are and we know what you did. The only thing we’re trying to figure out now is how complicit Miss Moran was with your crimes. If you care about her the way you think you do, you’ll answer our questions.”

Joey knows how I feel about her. I have nothing to prove to these clowns.

I lean forward so they both can see how serious I am. “I have nothing to say to you, so throw me in a cell if you’re not done chasing your tails. We did nothing wrong.”

“If you say so.” She stands, nodding to the silent investigator next to her. “Maybe a few nights in a cell will loosen your tongue.”

Not likely.

If I’ve learned anything about myself after I took matters into my own hands, it’s that I can survive just fine in uncomfortable settings. Before I made it to the cabin I slept in stolen cars, rest stop bathrooms, the woods, anywhere I could as I made my way to Washington. A cold cell isn’t going to be a problem. I won’t give them ammunition to use against me, and I damn sure won’t say anything that might get my girl in any more trouble than I already have.

It’s my fault she’s in here at all, I won’t be the reason they make her stay. Just thinking about her makes my chest tighten. Before her, I knew levels of discomfort I didn’t know existed, and now I know levels of peace just the same.

But now I may never hold her and feel those things again.

I thought we’d have more time. That I’d have more time to win her heart and hold it in my hands, not glimpse at it through a glass. But now I’ve traded that glass for metal bars, and I have no one to blame but myself.

Nothing in this world is free... not even revenge.