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“Call me if you find anything else that we could pin on the fucker, Miguel. We need to pull everything together, make a solid case before we scoop him up for murdering his girlfriend. Have you identified the vic? Do we have a last name? Address? Background?”
“We’ve got nothing.” Ivey reported. “She isn’t in the system, never been fingerprinted, which smells fishy. You would think if she volunteered at a shelter, they would have conducted an extensive background check.”
“Maybe, unless she never worked a day in her life or worked for someone under the table,” I pointed out.
Ivey sighed. “Yeah, maybe. Anyway, Danny said he’d check with the DMV, but it’s going to take some time.”
“Alright, I’ll see what I can get from Miss Gates. Let me know what else you find.”
I hung up the phone just as Phoebe emerged from the bathroom. I watched her step further into view, and I had to fight to breathe. She was dressed modestly, which surprised me. I just knew she would step out of the bathroom either naked or barely dressed. The woman loved to fucking tease me. But no, this was much worse.
She was dressed in silk pajama pants, black, that seemed to hang loosely on her hips. The short-sleeve shirt only had one button, and it barely clasped over her breasts, struggling to keep the two halves of the shirt together. And the woman had no bra on; I could see her nipples pointing directly at me through the thin material of her shirt.
Her hair was braided in two braids on the side of her head and her face seemed fresh, natural, stunning.
As I said, nothing overtly sexy, more sweet than seductive, and yet the woman had my blood pressure to new heights, pumping all of my blood straight to my cock.
I cleared my throat and stood as she rounded the couch and sat opposite me, her back to the arm of the couch, a leg tucked under the other.
“Feel better?” I asked in a low tone, fighting the urge to rip open that feeble shirt of hers and get lost in a pair of breasts I dream about every day and night.
Phoebe blew out a puff of peppermint smelling air and gave me a small smile. “Yeah, a little.”
“Do you need a drink of water or something stronger perhaps?”
“Something stronger would work. Thank you,” she answered softly.
I sauntered over to her makeshift bar, grabbing a bottle of Jack and poured her a generous amount in a glass. I also grabbed two bottles of water, one for each of us, and returned to the couch.
She thanked me for the glass of whiskey and took a generous amount down before cautious eyes rested on me.
Needing a drink myself, but knowing it wasn’t a good idea for many reasons, I opened the bottle of water in my hand and drank almost half of the contents down before I addressed the woman next to me.
“So far, my team hasn’t found any traces of you on the scene. Your prints aren’t inside the house, and you’re not on any security footage. Your statement of arriving on the scene after the murder will hold.”
Phoebe visibly relaxed, exhaling loudly through parted lips. “That’s good news, right? I mean, that puts me in the clear?”
“Yes, it does. Ivey will share your statement with the forensic team and Pike’s team. I’m sure the word will get out that you arrived on the scene to meet your friend when you noticed the back gate was ajar, and you went to investigate. You knew your friend was there and she would never just leave the gate open like that. You proceeded to the backyard, and that’s when you noticed the back door was wide open. Fearing for your friend, you went in search of her and found her…unresponsive.”
I studied Phoebe as I retold her story, checking for any signs of distress or a hint she may have been hiding something. But I didn’t see anything that would warrant my suspicions.
“Okay, got it. And you think this is going to work? That people will believe I happened to find her…?” she trailed off and I could see her eyes tearing up.
I reached over and clasped her arm. I squeezed reassuringly. “Yes. As long as you stick to that story, no one is going to know you witnessed the murder of your friend.”
“Okay, but how will you arrest him? Don’t you need my testimony?”
“No. We have footage of your friend entering the house. About forty-five minutes later, Santos and his men enter the house. There isn’t any footage showing Ansley leaving the house. The back cameras were smashed. I’m sure a defense team would try to argue that she could have been dead before they arrived or someone else was inside the house and could have killed her. But…” I raised a hand to stop her from commenting when she opened her mouth to respond. “The time of death will show that to be impossible. He could claim that one of his men beat her without his knowledge, but it wouldn’t stick. The footage of him leaving out the front door with his men makes him guilty by just being there.”
“Will that work? Lock, he needs to pay for what he’s done.”
“And he will, trust me.”
I locked eyes with her, letting her know I meant every word. Miguel Santos would go down for the murder of his girlfriend. And I would make that happen without Phoebe’s testimony.
Realizing I still had a grip on her forearm, I squeezed it one more time before releasing her and leaning back.
“Can you give me more information on your friend Ansley?”
