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“And Nate knows this? He’s aware of the suspicions but never told me?”
“He thinks it’s nothing. We have no proof and that means we can’t ask for a second investigation.”
“Then why are you telling me?”
“So that you’ll watch your back, Shaw’s spawn. You’re too out in the open for your own good. If it’s true and someone tried to kill Kingsley, maybe you’re next.”
“I didn’t know you worried about me.”
“I don’t.” She clears her throat. “I worry about the firm, and Nate, who will be drawn into every mess you make.”
“He’s my husband.”
“On paper.”
I purse my lips. “Maybe it’s not only on paper.”
“What?”
“N-nothing.” Shit, I almost told her our secret. Once again, my temper nearly got the best of me. I swear it’s her face. It’s too beautiful and too put-together and I hate it.
I hate her.
But I keep thinking about her words all day long. Like who would want to hurt my dad?
I decide to investigate on my own. Chris agrees to help me after hours and says he owes me an apology for when he was being judgy.
He drives me to the police station on the back of his Harley, and I demand to have the records of Dad’s accident, but they blow me off.
However, I don’t move from there until a detective from the NYPD who knows my dad lets me into his office and closes the door.
I sit on the faux leather chair and stare at Detective Ford. He’s tall, lean, and has a bald head and black skin. I wouldn’t call him friends with Dad since he goes against him sometimes. Seriously, Nate is Dad’s only friend. Everyone else is just an acquaintance. Oh, and Detective Ford has a strong sense of justice, so that puts us on the same side, because Dad definitely doesn’t have that.
“You’re not supposed to be here, Ms. Shaw.”
“I just want Dad’s records from the day of the accident.”
“Records,” he repeats with a slight narrowing of his eyes.
“Yeah. Who he talked to and everything.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s come to my attention that there might’ve been foul play.”
“What’s your proof?”
“He was off that morning.”
“Off?”
“He wasn’t acting like himself and it felt like he was on the verge of something.”
“Why didn’t you mention that before?”
“I didn’t think it was of importance, but I do now. Please, I just want to know what you have.”
“We have nothing, Ms. Shaw, since we don’t think it was attempted murder. You should go back home, and next time, maybe you should send Nathaniel.”
