Page 112 of Gilt

“I’m assuming the murderer. Are you trying to tell me you’ve done some genuine police work and have a real suspect, finally?”

“Yes, we do.” Mackey tilts her head and meets my eyes. “You.”

I don’t blink. Partially because I don’t want her to see that she’s spooked me, but mostly because I’m frozen. I force myself to respond. ”You really are desperate.”

“Says the girl playing house at a billionaire’s.”

“Fine, I’ll bite.” I lean forward, placing my elbows on my knees to close some of the distance between us. “What do you have on me?”

“First, can I ask you a couple of questions?”

“Should I have a lawyer present?” I counter. If I’m smart, I’ll kick her out, but curiosity has gotten the better of me.

“You should,” Jameson says from the doorway. There’s no sign that he’s been sleeping. He’s dressed and alert while I can claim neither thing. Not bothering to look my way, he prowls into the room with his eyes trained on her.

“Mr. West, how lovely to see you.” Mackey sounds anything but pleased that he’s joined us. “I’m having a private conversation with your girlfriend.”

“Anything you can say to her, you can say in front of me.”

It’s a line right out of a CSI episode.

“Is that true?” she asks me.

“Yeah,” I say without hesitation. “I don’t keep anything from him.”

“So young to have so few secrets. How long have you two known each other?”

“Long enough,” Jameson answers for me while I do the math. Has it really been less than two months? “Do you have actual questions? And can they wait for my lawyers to arrive?”

“You don’t need a lawyer,” Mackey corrects him. “She does.”

“I misspoke. I meant our lawyers.”

“You two have gotten close. It’s surprising given that you’ve known each other such a short time—or did you know each other before?” she asks.

I groan and slouch back in my chair. Apparently, Mackey will be playing the role of good cop and bad cop today. It’s hard to believe anyone actually falls for this crap, but pitting couples against one another must work if she’s trying it.

“I waive my right to an attorney.”

“Emma, I wouldn’t advise that,” Jameson begins, but I hold up a hand.

“Look, I don’t feel like waiting around all day to get to the point. Let her ask her questions. We know the truth, so let’s see what she believes is so rock solid that she’s here accusing me of murder.”

“Right now, it’s only gut,” Mackey admits.

“You want me to be the one who killed him. Should I be flattered or offended?”

She doesn’t answer my question. “You make the most sense.”

“Enough theorizing,” Jameson intercedes. “Ask your questions and get out.”

“According to your statement, you were present at the West Casino on the night Nathaniel West was murdered.” She takes a notepad from her purse and flips it open.

“Yes, and that’s still true,” I promise her. “The darn time machine I’ve been constructing isn’t finished yet, so I haven’t been able to change history.”

She continues, ignoring my sarcasm. I guess my mom is right that my dark sense of humor isn’t my friend.

“Furthermore, you claimed that the two of you were together the entire evening.”