Page 143 of Kiss Marry Kill

“Fine. When and where? My schedule is very flexible at the moment.”

“Tomorrow evening. Come to my home. The positive aura might help us keep our serenity.”

I rolled my eyes. “What time?”

“Perhaps around 7:00? I’ll sage the house before you come to promote a positive environment.”

“I’ll see you then.” I hung up, scowling.

Our heated conversation cemented my loathing for River. He simply irked me. His voice and laugh set my teeth on edge. From the moment I’d met him, something had felt off. His supposed friendship toward me had always felt forced. He’d pretended to be my pal, but then he’d thrown Lucinda’s death in my face so flippantly. As if that poisonous dart had been waiting on the tip of his tongue all along.

But he was the past now, or he would be very soon. After tomorrow, River Martin could go skip off into the sunset for all I cared. He’d no longer exist in my world.

Chapter Twenty

Royce

When I got back to the station, Kimora continued to insist she didn’t want to see a doctor. She seemed fine, but to be on the safe side, I had one of my female officers who had some EMT training check her over for signs of injury. There were a few scrapes and bruises, but she’d been incredibly lucky. Once I was sure she was unharmed, I read her rights to her and got her some water and a bag of Doritos.

It was after 9:30 p.m. by the time she was settled enough to be questioned. I’d texted Maxwell, explaining the situation, but he hadn’t responded yet. It had been a long day, and I’d have given anything to go home and spend the evening with him. But duty called.

I brought a stack of folders with me into the interview room. There was a lot of confusing information to go over with Kimora, and retaining it all in my head was impossible. I was hoping she could clear up a lot of things for me. Like, for example, why she was telling me her name was Kimora when I knew her as Geraldine.

The fluorescent lights flickered overhead, and she sat like a statue, staring at the tabletop. She looked emotionally and physically drained. Her fingers and lips were stained from the nacho cheese Doritos, but she didn’t look like she cared. She truly appeared to be a woman with nothing to lose.

“Are you up to answering a few questions, Kimora?” I asked.

She shrugged. “I guess.”

“Okay, well, first off, you say your name is Kimora, but I have a file here with your photo that identifies you as Geraldine Grayson.” I pushed a piece of paper toward her. “Can you explain that to me, please?”

She didn’t even look at it. “Didn’t you hear? Geraldine died in a car accident.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Right. And Kimora drowned.”

She laughed, but it wasn’t a joyful sound. “Then I guess I’m nobody.”

I sighed. “You’re obviously somebody. From the look of it, you’re two somebodies.”

She didn’t respond.

“You were born Geraldine Grayson, right?”

She flicked her gaze to mine. “If you already know that, why ask?”

“Because you supposedly died, remember? I’m trying to figure out why you pretended to be dead.”

“I had my reasons,” she muttered.

“Was it for money?”

She wrinkled her brow. “Not just money.”

“What other reason?”

She avoided my gaze. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“I’m willing to try.” When she didn’t respond, I asked, “Was it for love?”