Page 56 of Miserable Marionette

“Detective Altman, but you can call me Martin.” I reach out almost robotically halfway to his hand before Gideon’s grip tightens on my wrist painfully.

I ignore it, grasping the man’s rough hand anyway. All this fake posturing, and Gideon Bell is still rude as all can be. “Audrey Fisher, it’s nice to meet you.”

The man's eyes spark with recognition. Probably another connection of my dad’s, lord, we can only hope it wasn’t a connection of Mom's.

When I lift my eyes, Gideon is watching the detective with a new intensity.

Braylon finally cuts in, his words giving me space to squeeze in a staccato breath. “Come on, kiddo, let's get this over with so you can get home.”

“Perfect,” Detective Martin chimes in, his attention on Gideon. “I’m not sure how many of my messages you got, but we’ve hit a snag. I was hoping to comb it over with you.”

Gideon ignores him, smoothing over the reddened marks on my wrist with his thumb before releasing it. “I’ll be here when you’re out—"

“I’m afraid it might take a deal longer than that.”

I glance at Gideon and then Braylon. “I’m sure one of the officers can take me home. It’s no big deal.” I smile up at him.

Braylon motions toward a nearby door. “Of course, Auds. If I had known that old beater finally kicked it, I’d have just come by the house.”

I nearly gasp as Gideon jerks his keys from his pocket, handing them to me. “Take my car. I’ll see you at home.”

Oh, holy fucking flutterflies.

I open my mouth dumbly, snapping it shut as Gideon all but dismisses me, turning his attention to Braylon. “Is the old meeting room open?”

Braylon raises his brow. “Yeah, by all means.”

With that, the men part, and I’m led into another room with one single brain cell bouncing around in my skull and Gideon's keys, still warm from his pocket, grasped tightly in my palm.

I don’t put them down as Braylon motions for me to sit at the small table nestled inside an equally small room. It’s stuffy and maybe a bit colder than the rest of them. There's nothing in here to make it more comfortable, not a painting or a couch. No fake plants or anything remotely adorning. I raise my brows at him. “Am I being interrogated?”

He laughs. “We picked someone up for DUI last night. The nicer room still smells like puke.”

I smile back at him, clearing my throat to shake off the nerves.

“Audrey, if you don’t mind, I’d like to get straight to it. You’re not in any trouble, kid. We’ve just got to cover all our bases here.”

“Yeah, that’s fine.”

He sits loudly, like he weighs three tons more than he does, and immediately I’m struck with why I’ve avoided all his attempts to pull me into the fold all these years. He’s too much like Dad for comfort. The folder he lies on the table stays closed, but he raps his fingers on it, taking a deep breath like he’s gearing up to do something he really doesn’t want to.

That makes two of us.

“When was the last time you saw Bryan? Jessica had mentioned he was on his way to your house the night he passed.”

My head snaps up at that. “I never saw him that night. I have no idea why he’d be in the woods either. He wasn’t really a nature kind of guy.”

He just nods. “Enough pills and alcohol, you’ll be an anything kind of guy, kiddo. You’re sure you didn’t see him Thursday, though?”

“No, I was painting the flower shop's fall display that day. It’s the last order I had for the season.”

“Wanna walk me through the last time you saw him? What his headspace was. He say anything about feeling down?”

I’m quiet for a long time at that, indecisiveness making my heart thump wildly in my chest. Second-guessing my whole monologue on the way here. Jess will hate me; he’s dead… what does it matter if I omit the truth a bit. It won’t change the fact.

I ignore the question, hating the way my voice wobbles. “How did he die?”

“Overdose. Looks like the guy took a bunch of that garbage them kids were always caught on, passed out in the woods, and just… you know.”