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“Yes. This is a huge misunderstanding. I was asked to get a guest list. Mrs Hart has given me permission to be here. She left a key. Look on the table. There’s the key along with the address book she asked me to collect. You have to believe me.”
He snorts. “That’s not what the owner states. I’d rather not cuff you, but I will if you don’t cooperate.”
My jaw goes slack.
Fuck.
I am going to kill Casper. Slowly and painfully.
“All right.” I raise my hands. “I’ll cooperate, but this is a total misunderstanding. I’m telling you. Call Mr or Mrs Hart and they’ll confirm it’s true.”
Except they’re both in court so probably won’t be reachable.
“Can you let me call Casper? I can sort this out with him.”
“We’ll sort this down the station.”
Down the station. I’m going to the bloody station!
I start to walk with them because I don’t want to be cuffed. “Please call Casper. Look, I will.”
“Do not reach for your phone. This is your last chance to leave this house without handcuffs, Ainsley.”
Oh my God.
CHAPTEREIGHTEEN
I’m sitting in a small interview room that smells of chemical lemon, feeling like a criminal, when an officer finally walks back in.
She smiles sympathetically as if she understands how absurd this all is. Sitting down, she asks, “How are you doing?”
I shrug. “I’ve just been arrested. I don’t understand why he would do this,” I say, but I actually have a few good guesses.
Before leaving the room for a few minutes, which felt longer, she spent the entire interview looking rather annoyed, knowing this was a waste of her time.
“And you said you had permission,” she says.
“From Casper’s mum, yes. She’s the one who owns the house. I told you, Flora left me a key.”
“And Casper Hart knew this.”
“Yes, I told him, too. I have the texts to prove it.”
All I can think about is spilling Casper’s blood.
She nods and looks up at the door as someone peeks in and nods.
“All right, you’re free to go, Miss Miller,” she says, leaning back in her seat.
I drop my fingers from my mouth where I’ve been chewing my nails to the quick. “What? That’s it? I can just leave?”
“Mr Hart doesn’t want to press charges.”
Oh, how fucking gracious of him.
I push the chair out so fast, it scrapes on the floor, not needing to be told to go twice. “Thanks,” I mutter, as if she’s done me a favour, and scurry past.
I can’t wait to get home so I can wrap my hands around Casper’s neck and squeeze and squeeze. Give the police something real to arrest me for.
