Page 23 of Bad Intentions

“But she knew who he was? Is,” I correct myself.

“We are still questioning her.”

“Maybe I can talk to her?” I offer. “Maybe she’s somehow connected to him and knows⁠—”

“I’m afraid not right now.”

“When are you releasing her? Can I talk to her then?”

“Well, we’re not sure about that. Not until we locate the man. She’s a kidnapping victim. And with the man missing, anyone who’s been in contact with him might be in danger.”

The chief locks eyes with me.

I don’t know if he’s saying this to test me or as an actual warning.

I nervously lick my dry lips. “You think he might come back for her?”

“We don’t know.”

“Or for me?” I try to swallow the hard knot in my throat.

“That depends on where he is.”

“Right.”

“Right.”

We both go quiet, the chief’s gaze on me expectant. “Would you take the DNA test?” he asks finally. “We need to eliminate yours from the crime scene.”

I nod. “Of course.”

As if on cue, a woman enters the room like she’s been waiting for it and takes swabs of my saliva. I know this is basic procedure, yet it makes me feel like the prime suspect.

“Am I free to go?” I ask when she’s done. “I need to check on Grandma.” That’s a lame excuse, but still.

The chief motions to the door. “Sure. I know where to find you.”

There’s no reason for the chief to suspect me of anything. After all, I found the woman, found her in time. Who knows what the man could’ve done to her or how long she would’ve been locked up in that house. But all roads lead to me. I was the one meant to find her. The stranger made sure of that.

I really want to talk to that woman. But for right now, she is off-limits. All I can do is wait.

I rise slowly from the chair. “You’ll let me know of any updates?” I ask as the chief and Officer Miles get up from their seats.

“Yes, Josie.”

“I mean, in case he shows up? Or you have any other information?”

“Yes. Will do. Meanwhile, be careful,” he warns.

“Can I get my phone back?”

He tsks with the corner of his mouth. “You can either let us get the history of text messages from it, or if you take it, we’ll get a warrant.”

His words make cold sweat break out along my back.

“You can pick it up tomorrow morning,” he reassures me.

“Okay.” There’s nothing much they’ll find on my phone about the stranger. It’s less suspicious if I let them have their way.