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She loved her best friend and missed her terribly. She owed it to her to tell the truth. But she couldn’t. She had promised her parents. And while Nyleah meant just as much to her as her own family, Nyleah was gone, and Danielle was still here among the living. She needed to look out for herself.
“When was the last time you saw her?”
“When you say time—”
“Ms. Baptiste, what time as in what was the time of day as seen on a clock or your cell phone,” Webb said, not even trying to be nice anymore.
“Honestly? I don’t think I paid attention. If I had to guess, um…maybe 12? I know I saw her after I called my mom to check in, and that was around 11:30.”
“Thank you.” He was writing intently, and she wondered if she’d said something wrong.
Then he asked her about lifting weights and dogs, and whether she saw Jace go upstairs or come down from upstairs. The answer to all three questions was no. Officially. But that last one was a lie.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
“Mr.Wilkins…mayIcallyou Bakari?” Webb asked politely.
“Yeah.”
Brad Ackerman introduced himself as Webb’s partner. “Bakari. What an interesting name. What does it mean?”
Bakari smiled. “It means ‘promised one’. What doesyourname mean?”
Detective Ackerman blushed. “I actually have no idea,” he said as if it was the first time he’d ever considered it. Bakari raised his eyebrows to convey disbelief and awe, but in truth, he didn’t care what Brad meant. Nobody cares what Brad means.
“Mr. Strozier, are you the official lawyer on this case? Was there a group rate?” Webb asked.
Will chuckled. “Don’t worry yourself, Detective,” he responded, a hint of Jamaican accent tinging his words.
“Very well, then. Bakari, let’s get this going. I want you to tell me about your relationship to the victim. To Nyleah.”
“Relationship?”
“Yes. How well did you know her, what was the nature of your relationship, et cetera.”
“Oh. We were friends.”
He’d always been a bad liar. Both of his parents had teased him about it over the years. But lying isn’t something you can practice, and it’s not a skill you can hone. You either have it, or you don’t. And he didn’t. The detective’s smug grin seemed to indicate that he knew it, too.
“Was there ever a point in your relationship where you were more than friends?”
“I mean…we’ve never dated.”
“Have you ever had sex?”
“Yes. I’m not a virgin.”
The detective stifled a laugh. “No, I mean with the victim.”
Bakari knew what he meant. Sometimes it was fun being a smart ass. But he’d had his inner laugh, and now was the time to man up. “Yeah. I had sex with her.”
Joe was sitting to Bakari’s left, and Bakari caught the look of disapproval in his peripheral. Joe wasn’t the kind of father who patted his son on the back about his conquests, and that fact had always annoyed Bakari. Not that he was knocking down girls to impress his dad. That would be weird. He just wanted…validation. His mother never said it out loud, but Bakari knew she was pleased that all his girlfriends and situations were black girls. And not just any black girls. Black girls wholooklike black girls. But Joe? He couldn’t have cared less about Bakari’s endless roster of pretty young things. He could barely manage to grunt “Hello” when he saw them.
Webb finished writing. “When was the last time you and the victim had sex?”
Bakari closed his eyes and thought back. “Um…last year.”
“Really.” It was less a question than a statement. A challenge.
