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He places the folder on the table. “Is that the first time you and Mr. McKnight had an altercation?”
I furrow my brows. “Yes.”
“You sure?” He questions.
“Yes.”
“Interesting.” He crosses his arms. “We have a witness claiming they saw you and Mr. McKnight last week outside The Peak. It looked heated and you grabbed him.”
The family dinner.
I don’t remember anyone even being on the street that night, nor in the alley.
“We had words. There were no punches thrown,” I offer.
“And what were those words about?” His arms uncross. “Ms. Harper?”
I don’t like his tone, or his arrogance that suddenly appears.
“Yes.”
“You seem awfully protective of her.” He leans his elbows down on the table and jerks his chin up with a smirk. “You fucking her?”
I can’t control the slam of my fist on this rickety table before I point my finger at him. “Watch it.”
He holds his palms up. “Just a question.”
This time it’s Detective Asher that goes for the jugular. “We have a theory, Greyson.”
I relax back in the chair, acting as natural as I can.
“We think you and Ms. Harper were having an affair. Blaine found out. He obviously got violent with her in which you retaliated. You went to his condo, there was a physical assault before pressing a gun to the back of his head and you pulled the trigger.”
“We know you’re in love with Ms. Harper. He hurt her. You got angry.” Caster interjects. “Seems you have some anger issues. The recent altercation with your father? Now this?”
“You tossed the gun in the dumpster on your way out, and now your problem was solved. Blaine got what he deserved, now you and Ms. Harper could live happily ever after,” Asher finishes.
I nod a few times, entertaining their bogus theory. “One problem, detectives.” I clash eyes with Caster. “I don’t have a gun here. Any weapon I own is locked in my safe in San Antonio.”
Asher reaches down, presenting a plastic evidence bag, then slides it on the table between us. Inside is a black pistol.
“You may not, but Ms. Harper does, and your DNA is all over it.”
What?
There was a knock at the door, and they both stand, taking the gun with them before leaving me alone again. Something wasn’t adding up, and this was turning out to be way more serious than I thought.
I sit with my head in my hands. My elbows planted on the cold tabletop. I never expected to be in this room. Never expected for things to turn out the way they did. The grinding sound of the thirty year old hinges has me lifting my head. My heavy eyes snag on the pair of shoes that enter the room. I let out a solid breath before I lean back in my chair.
Slowly, I meet the eyes of my brother. A man I would trust with my life. He braces his palms on the table across from me, head bowed, and shoulders bunched. Tension rolls off of him in waves, wrapping tight around my throat.
“It’s not looking good, Grey.” His hoarse voice meets my ears and I clam up. Sweat breaks out on the back of my neck and my stomach rolls with nausea.
“The evidence is stacked against you.” He lifts his head. “What the fuck happened?”
I shake my head, running a hand over my face. “It’s not what it looks like, East.”
He stands tall, his hands hanging by his side. “I can only do so much. It’s too close to home. The sheriff will step in. Then it’s out of our hands.”
