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Sam gritted his teeth. He’d be getting the biggest apology from SDPD when this was over. “In my bedroom.”
“Will he go with me?”
“No. I’ll have to walk him there.”
She looked at her partner. “If you’ll get the warrant started, I’ll take care of the dog and then get CSU to process the creepy photos.” She drew her weapon once again and pointed it at Sam. “Walk slowly, Dr.Reeves. Do not incite your dog to violence and do not try to resist.”
Motherfuckers. His blood boiling, Sam obeyed. “This is a mis- take,” he hissed once again.
She sighed wearily. “You have the right to remain silent, Dr.Reeves. I’d exercise that right if I were you.”
He flashed her a look filled with all the venom burning inside his chest. “Do I get my one phone call?” he asked, his teeth clenched. Vivian would clear this up.
“Depends on your behavior. Let’s go. Call your dog.”
“Siggy,” he said, managing to keep his voice calm. “Come on, boy. Time for night-night.” Siggy warily followed them to his bedroom where the crate door was open, his water bowl already filled. “In, boy.”
Still wary, Siggy slunk into his crate and McKittrick fastened the closures with a practiced hand, making him wonder if she had a dog of her own.
“Do you put food in his crate with him?”
“No. He’s eaten already.”
“Then let’s go.” She hesitated, then gave the crate a pat. “It’ll be okay, Siggy,” she soothed, then turned to Sam. “After you.”
CHAPTER FOUR
SDPD, San Diego, California
Saturday, April 9, 5:45 a.m.
Sam’s glasses were broken and his face hurt. Staring into the interrogation room mirror, he saw a bruise forming on his cheek- bone where his face had hit his living room floor.
At least they’d taken off the handcuffs. He could breathe normally again.
They’d started to question him, but he’d immediately asked for a lawyer. He might have been stupid enough to think he could make a damn crime board, but he knew enough not to say another word without his lawyer present. Especially since they wouldn’t address the one question he needed an answer to.
Except he didn’t have a lawyer. He’d never needed one. He’d never even had a parking ticket, for fuck’s sake. The only defense attorney he knew personally might not even take his calls anymore because their relationship had ended rather poorly, but he’d tried calling anyway.
Laura Letterman hadn’t shown up yet, but the detectives weren’t hurrying him into a holding cell. So there was that. He had a little time to figure out what to do.
It had to be close to dawn, but he didn’t know the time because they’d taken his phone. He glared at the mirror, knowing they were there, watching him.
Damn detectives. He closed his eyes, trying for the umpteenth time not to let the panic overtake him. Vivian hadn’t picked up the phone and the answering service said that she’d had a family emergency and was off call for the night.
They were supposed to forward her calls to him.
Ha! That had actually made him laugh.
He’d had to tell the answering service that he would also be unable to cover any after-hours calls. They had other therapists who could handle an emergency, so at least their clients wouldn’t be negatively impacted.
He wanted to be worried about Vivian—and he was—but worry over his own situation eclipsed everything. He was on his own for now.
Opening his eyes, he fixed his gaze on the mirror. “I can clear this up if you’d only answer my question. I can’t divulge information until I know what you found—if anything—in the park. I figure you found something because I’m here, but I can’t talk to you until I know for sure.”
No answer. He waited for what felt like an hour but must have been only a minute or two.
He sighed, exhausted. He had one more card to play before he let the panic have him. “Fine. I assume you haven’t heard from my attorney yet. Can I call another? His name is Joel Haley.”
