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“I’ll walk you out.” She gives me an uneasy smile before turning back to the detective. “Please have a seat.” She waves a hand at a chair. “I’ll be right with you.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
I wring my hands together as I walk Brett to the door. “I don’t understand what the detective could want. I don’t know anything. I haven’t seen Glenn in over a year. He’s missing. Is that what he said?”
“Cassie?”
“Yeah?” My flinting eyes flash to his stormy gaze.
He cups the side of my face with the palm of his hand and leans down, momentarily vanquishing my worry and the detective awaiting my return. “Remember, you can’t talk about that night. You can’t tell the detective what happened.”
I search his expression, noting the hint of concern I feel in his touch. He’s supposed to make me feel better, not squabble my brain more. Of course, I’m not going to tell the detective. What does that have to do with Glenn’s disappearance anyway?
It seems Brett is the one who needs his worries vanquished.
“I won’t.” I stare into his indecipherable eyes with promise.
A slow, gentle smile spreads across his mouth, reassuring me that it worked. I eased his concern.
“Listen.” He presses his forehead against mine as his thumb strokes my cheek. “Everything is going to be okay. Just go in there and answer the detective’s questions.”
The faint but impressionable touch of his lips against mine annihilates the entire situation.
He withdraws, leaving my mouth tingling for more as he turns and walks away.
When he disappears around the corner, I snap out of it with a quick blink of the eyes and a shake of my boggled brain.
Back to the task at hand.
What the hell does the detective want?
After taking a deep breath, I brush off the strange feeling I got from Brett’s insistent words and head back into my apartment to deal with the detective.
“Sorry about that.” I walk over to the table and ease myself down into the seat.
“No problem.” He pulls out a small pad of paper and pen.
“Now, what did you want to ask me?”
“When was the last time you saw Mr. Stillwell?”
“Ah.” I glance at the pad. Does he plan to record this on paper? “It’s been about thirteen months now.”
“You lived with him in Sarasota?”
“Yes, for six months. We were together for about eight.”
“What happened?”
I shrug, attempting to appear casual and comfortable with the conversation.
“Things didn’t work out.”
It’s not like the detective needs to know the details of what Glenn did to me. I’m sure one has nothing to do with the other.
“We wanted different things. So I decided to move to New Hampshire to make a fresh start. I got a job there, and like I said, I haven’t seen him since.”
“So you haven’t talked to him on the phone?”
