Page 50 of Wasted

She, Victoria Weston, was a suspect in a murder. She had been driven to the station in a squad car and was now undergoing interrogation like a criminal.

Cillian must be laughing at her expense right now. She, the ultimate rule-follower, being detained by the police and questioned.

Perhaps one day, she would laugh about it, too. But that was impossible to imagine at the moment.

She tuned in to yet another repeat question from McCully.

“You honestly expect me to believe you didn’t influence him, and you didn’t even know what was in his will?”

She met his gaze steadily, as she’d been doing the entire time. “All I can do is answer your questions truthfully. Whether or not you believe the truth is up to you. We never discussed his will or an inheritance beyond what I already told you, that he referenced his niece and nephew waiting for him to die so they could collect their inheritance.”

“So you’re suggesting they might be the ones who bumped him off.” It was an accusatory statement rather than a question.

She stifled a wince at his callous wording. “Not at all. I’m only answering your questions honestly.” Though reviewing her conversations with Thomas and recounting for McCully that final day she’d seen him made her view the people in Thomas’s life in a new light. Now that his death was positively an intentional killing, there had to be a killer.

Could Thomas have been correct? Would his own flesh and blood have wanted him dead and done something to bring that about?

“Look, Ms. Weston.” The detective slid a hand over his mustache as he shifted in his chair. “In my experience, guilty people try to point the finger at anyone else they can to get us to look elsewhere.”

She pinched her lips together and brought in a small breath through her nose. “Detective McCully, Thomas Briscoe was not only my patient, he was also a dear personal friend. His death is a tragedy, and as you witnessed when I brought this evidence to you immediately on that dreadful morning, I want to ensure that the person who ended his life is found and caught.”

A smirk pushed up the detective’s mustache. “Guilty people always want to appear helpful.”

“I wouldn’t know, Detective. But I do know that I want to cooperate and help you find Thomas’s killer in whatever way I can.”

“Good.” An unpleasant smile revealed his uneven teeth. “Then you won’t mind answering more questions.”

“Of course not.” She didn’t blink. “I will help in whatever capacity you need. But I would also like to tell you the additional evidence I found at Thomas’s house.”

“You were at the house after Briscoe’s death?”

“Yes. The lawyer informed me I had inherited the estate, and I went to see if more evidence of foul play could be found.”

“Foul play?”

Victoria stared at him. Was the man actually going to criticize her use of formal vocabulary? It would become even more difficult to picture her father in his place if he continued that line of criticism.

“You sure you didn’t want to get in to start collecting what was yours? Or maybe cover up some evidence you left behind?”

She resisted an ill-timed swallow that could make her look suspicious. She probably shouldn’t have mentioned she’d returned to the house. It could sound like someone returning to the crime scene to ensure nothing incriminating could be found. She needed to forge ahead and get to the point. “I thought that as the detective investigating this murder, you would want to know that we noticed a bookend was missing and the office had been ransacked. A man?—”

“A bookend?” Sardonic amusement laced his tone.

“Yes. From a valuable glass set Thomas had loved. It was near the door of the library, suggesting perhaps someone grabbed it and could have used it to attack Thomas.”

McCully’s mouth straightened into a more serious line. Was he finally taking her seriously? “Anything else?”

“The office was a mess. It was clearly searched by someone. And then a man ran out of the office and fled the house.”

“Really?” His raised eyebrows didn’t match his thoroughly skeptical tone. “Let me guess, he got away, and you can’t identify him.”

She paused. But she had to cooperate and answer truthfully. “That’s correct. But Cillian saw the car he used for his getaway.”

“Ah, Doherty. So you were there with your boyfriend.” Another cynical statement worded as a rhetorical question. But he was completely incorrect, as usual.

“Cillian Doherty is not my boyfriend.”

“Avoiding the question?”