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“And my freedom,” he interrupted with a snarl, anger hitting him hard.
“And your freedom,” she said, speaking down to him like he was a recalcitrant child, which only made him angrier. “But you cannot investigate this on your own. You can’t.”
Sam found that his chin had risen, his jaw clenching. “Is it illegal?”
“Maybe,” she snapped, sounding exasperated. “It could be construed as witness tampering. Which is a federal crime, Dr.Reeves.”
Gone was his worry that she’d be mad at him. He didn’t give a flying fuck. “Or people might talk to me.”
He heard her inhale, probably through her nose. She was pissed.
He didn’t care. It wasn’t his job to make her feel better, either. “Did you know that I’m on a leave of absence now, Detective?” he demanded bitterly. “My boss believes in me, but my very presence at my job could risk my clients’ mental health and their potential recovery. Did you know that?”
“No,” she admitted. “That’s why you have time?”
“It is,” he bit out. “The Beckham boy said you’d already been by. I figured I wasn’t hurting anything by asking a few questions. I got answers. You’re welcome, by the way.” He glanced over his shoulder to find Joel staring at him like he was a stranger.
He felt like a stranger. A more powerful stranger. “If it pisses you off that I’m asking questions, I’m not sorry. Skyler Carville was my friend!” He was shouting now and couldn’t seem to stop. “Her parents think that I killed her! And you just expect me to sit and wait while you figure all this out?”
Joel had slid closer and now gripped Sam’s shoulder. “Hey,” he murmured. “Settle down. You’re not going to win her over by yelling.”
“Who’s there?” McKittrick asked sharply.
“Joel Haley. I’m staying at his house because I can’t go back to my apartment.”
“The cleaners are still working?” she asked, sounding sincerely confused.
“For fuck’s sake,” Sam snarled. “Are you stupid or just unfeeling? Her parents are my neighbors. They think I killed her. And you think I can live there knowing that? What am I going to say when I see them in the hallway? ‘Sorry for your loss, but I didn’t do it’?”
“Yes,” she said so calmly he wanted to hit something.
Which wasn’t like him. He didn’t hit things. Not even the punching bag at the gym.
“Well, you might be able to separate your feelings, but I can’t.”
“You’re a mental health professional,” she said, speaking factually as if discussing the weather. “You should be able to as well.”
His rage left him in a rush. She was right. He should be able to. His eyes burned and he took a deep breath that hurt.
“Did you know that I met Skyler when she was only seventeen?” he asked, his voice breaking. “Did you know that I helped her draw up her business plan for her dog-walking business? Siggy was her first client. I sat with her parents at their kitchen table and together we helped her with her college applications. I was one of her references. She introduced me to her prom date before they left for the dance. I took a picture and told him that he better take good care of her. I still have the picture on my phone. When she decided to major in psychology, I was so proud. Like I’d touched a life. She was like a younger sister. And now she’s dead, Detective. Some bastard with gray hair, glasses, and a black Mercedes lured her somewhere because she thought she was meeting me for drinks. He killed her because of me. To make me look guilty.” He shuddered and wiped his face because tears had begun to fall and he didn’t even care. “So forgive me for being human, Detective. Forgive me for not being able to separate my personal and professional personas. But I can’t. If you need to arrest me for anything else, make sure you contact my attorney because I’m not saying another word to you.”
“Dr.Reeves, wait. Please don’t hang up.”
She’d said please, so he drew another breath. “What?”
“First, I’m sorry this has turned your life upside down,” she said, her tone no longer like arctic ice. This was the woman who’d patted Siggy’s crate and told his dog it would be all right the night she’d arrested him. “It’s the ripples.”
“Ripples,” he repeated flatly.
“Yes, ripples. Murder doesn’t just affect the victim. It touches family, friends, colleagues. The person who discovers the body, even if they’re a stranger. No one in the victim’s circle will ever be the same. You tried to do the right thing, but you got sucked into a case that never should have touched you or Miss Carville or her family. But this is where we are.” She hesitated. “I’m asking you to trust me to do my job. To stay away from this investigation.”
He wanted to say Okay, I’ll back away. He wanted to pretend none of this was happening. That her ripples hadn’t touched his life. But they had. “They aren’t ripples,” he said instead.
“Excuse me?”
“This isn’t a ripple. It’s a goddamned rogue wave and it’s dragging me under with it.”
“Was that a no?” she asked stiffly.
