Page 61 of Killer of Mine

She eyes me warily. “What’s the matter?”

“I need to ask you some questions,” I say.

She leans back against the sink and folds her arms across her chest. “Same old, same old then.”

“This isn’t a joke,” Eli snaps.

Freya gives him a blank look, then turns back to me. “Ask your questions.”

“Are you left-handed?”I already know she is, but I want to see if she’ll confirm it.

Her eyes tighten. “Yes.”

“Did you have any contact with Posy Winters or Camilla Banks before we found their bodies?”

Freya uncrosses her arms and grips the counter by her hips. “You know I didn’t.”

“Yes, or no?” Eli pushes.

“No.” Freya’s voice is firm, but I hear the thread of hurt in her reply. “What is this all about?”

“The autopsy suggests Arthur Maxwell was not the person who made the cuts on Posy and Camilla’s chest.”

Freya’s hands slip from the counter. “And you think it was me.”

“Did you, in any way, harm Posy Winters?”

She doesn’t deny it but the look on her face has me doubting myself once more. Resignation slumps at her shoulders and for once her tough mask falls away. She looks tired. Not like she hasn’t had enough sleep but that bone weary tiredness of life. I could kick myself for making her feel like that, for taking away her fight.

“I have to ask, Freya, it’s my job,” I say, silently begging for her to understand.

Freya sucks in a sharp breath. Like giving oxygen to embers, her fire roars back to life. The flames flare in her eyes. “Actually, River you don’t. You could just trust me.”

Eli scoffs. “Why would we trust you?”

“Because I’m here!” Freya shouts. “Because I’ve done nothing but try to help. Because I’ve told you everything I possibly can. I’ve said aloud things I never wanted to tell a soul. I’ve relived the life I faked my death to escape from, foryou.So you can do your fucking jobs and catch my father.”

Her words tear at me but Eli’s like a devil on my shoulder. A voice in my head whispering that she hasn’t actually answered the question. She hasn’t denied it.

“Freya, I need to hear you say it.”

Her laugh is hollow. Exhausted. “You’re a profiler, River. You know I’m not a killer. You know I didn’t touch Posy. If I had, I wouldn’t be here, sleeping with your teammates. You’d have me behind bars. If you won’t trust me, at least trust your instincts.” She moves around the kitchen island and goes to walk past us, but I cut her off.

My hand curls around her bicep.

“My instincts are telling me you’re hiding something. They’ve been telling me that all along and I’ve ignored them. I can’t trust you when you’re keeping things from me.”

Freya places her palm on my chest and my hand around her arm spasms. My entire body is magnetized to her touch.

I’ve had to make difficult decisions doing this job but never before has my heart so completely disagreed with my actions.

Freya’s soft voice envelops me. “Trust isn’t about knowing everything. It’s about believing in that person anyway.”

Every cell in my body is telling me to let this go. To promise Freya that I trust her. But I force myself to do my job. “Answer the question.”

Pain cuts across Freya’s face before she hides it. She snatches her hand back and stares me dead in the eyes. “No. I didn’t.” She yanks her arm out of my hold, striding past me.

“Where are you going?” Eli calls.