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He flicked the woman a sharp look before locking Kit’s gaze with his. “I hadn’t decided.”
Laura Letterman’s head dropped back, and she stared at the ceiling. “I’m clearly not needed here. I’m going home and back to bed.”
“I see,” Kit told Reeves levelly, ignoring the dramatic attorney, who made no move to leave. “You were going to see if he went to either of the girls’ homes?”
The attorney abruptly straightened in her chair. “Do not answer that, Sam,” she hissed. “I swear to God, you need to keep your mouth shut.”
He glanced at his attorney again before meeting Kit’s eyes. “Will you arrest Colton Driscoll?”
She wanted to say yes. His green eyes were so vivid. So goddamn sincere. This is a genuinely good man.
Who might be manipulating me right now. He was a shrink, after all. Baz was right not to trust them. They knew the human mind. They knew how to use their words, their voice, their body language to get people to say things they never would have otherwise said.
This Kit knew from experience. This was why she’d been avoiding Dr.Scott.
“We’ll check him out.” That was all she would commit to at this point.
Logically, Driscoll made a better suspect than Reeves. Driscoll was the right age and—if Reeves could be believed—had a history of violence. Both things were easily checked out.
“You’ll have to remain here until we’ve investigated this lead,” Kit said, rising.
Reeves’s jaw tightened and his eyes flashed with anger, but he said nothing.
“Arrest him or let him go,” Laura Letterman demanded.
“Oh, we already arrested him for resisting arrest,” Kit said dryly. “That one doesn’t go away.”
Letterman turned raised eyebrows to Sam.
He shrugged. “I panicked. She...” He closed his eyes. “She grabbed my arms.”
“Oh.” Letterman nodded, understanding softening her harsh expression. “We can make that go away,” she said softly, then glared up at Kit. “He was trying to help you.”
Kit felt a momentary pang of guilt, then shoved it away. Not yet. Not until she was certain that he wasn’t involved. “He was also in possession of an unregistered gun, which he was holding when he answered the door.”
Reeves frowned. “It is registered.”
“In California?”
He winced. “No. In Arizona. I inherited it from my grandfather. I only take it with me when I go camping.”
“Stop, Sam,” Letterman repeated with growing frustration. “We will discuss your weapon once we are alone.”
Reeves sighed, his shoulders sagging. “Fine.”
Kit looked down at Reeves, willing him to say something—anything—to make her believe him. But he looked away, his mouth tight.
“I’ll need your boss’s contact information.” She slid her notebook across the table. “Name and number.”
“I’ll need my phone.”
She returned it to him, noticing that both Joel Haley and Laura Letterman shifted to hide his hand while he tapped in his password.
Reeves engendered loyalty, even in someone with whom it appeared he had bad history. He wrote Vivian Carlisle in a neat, compact script, then paged through his contacts before adding a phone number and an address in La Jolla. Looked like Dr.Carlisle did all right for herself. That was a nice part of town.
Wordlessly he pushed her notebook back to her. His expression, which had been so open, was now shuttered and cold.
It seemed he was finally taking his attorney’s advice.
