“There’s one more thing. My alibi, a woman named Providence Reynolds, needs representation, too.”
“Got it. I’ll be in touch.” Warren hung up.
“This isn’t good,” Sin said. “I’ll do what I can to keep the media off your back.”
“Thank you, bro. The police came after me hard when Beth went missing. I was innocent then and I’m innocent now.”
“Unfortunately, that video of you with Hastings shows what you’re capable of.” Sin headed back toward the family room and Dakota fell in line beside him. “This’ll get worse before it gets better.”
Frustration curled Dakota’s hands into fists. He hated that his brother was right.
* * *
Sunday night, Providence texted Patricia Stearns and requested an in-person meeting at FBI headquarters. Not one to level-jump, Providence reached out directly to the woman who had asked her to track Dakota.
Patricia sent her a meeting notice for seven forty-five Monday morning.
Most of the night, Providence tossed and turned. At two in the morning, her phone buzzed with a text from Dakota. And her annoying little heart skipped a beat. She wasn’t helping herself by reacting to him this way.
Stop. He’s my target, not my lover.
“Warren Hott is checking with police,” Dakota texted. “I haven’t stopped thinking about you.”
Providence stared at the text. Her fingers twitched to text him back, but every text was fodder for the police. For all she knew, someone was sitting outside her condo waiting to track her every more.
But the need to reply wouldn’t go away, so, thirty minutes later, she responded. “Thanks for letting me know.” She wanted to tell him she hadn’t stopped thinking about him, but decided to withhold that information. They’d had one wild night and one wild night only. The end.
She stared out her bedroom window at the twinkling city across the river, the same river where Matt Hastings had ended up dead.
But sleep would not come. At four fifteen, she texted Dakota. “I haven’t stopped thinking about you, too.”
Damn that man.
Monday morning, Providence stepped off the elevator and headed toward the Violent Crimes Division. As she made her way toward Patricia’s office, her mouth went bone dry. Despite her churning gut, she was going to play this cool.
Providence was about to knock on Patricia’s open office door, when she glanced up. “Come on in and shut the door.”
As Providence eased down in the guest chair, Patricia said, “Dakota Luck is front page news.”
“That’s why I’m here.”
“You want to fill me in.”
“I went to the realtor banquet and witnessed Mr. Hastings assault Mr. Luck. I spotted Mr. Hastings at the bar after the event, but lost Mr. Luck, so I returned to the club. He caught up with me around midnight regarding a club matter.”
“Do you suspect he killed Hastings?”
“No.”
“Why are you here, then?” Patricia sipped her coffee.
Providence’s stomach roiled. “I was with Mr. Luck from midnight until almost eight in the morning.”
Patricia raised her eyebrows. “So, you’re his alibi?”
Providence nodded. “I am.”
“If you were doing somethingotherthan the obvious, I would have a stronger argument for keeping you assigned to his case.” She adjusted her glasses. “And you did this,why?”
