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I tried to trace its unforgiving trail. It cast sharp shadows behind chairs and the sparse furnishings of the room.
The entire atmosphere felt like a powder keg on the verge of exploding.
Jameson's eyes drilled into mine as he rolled one question after another off the tip of his tongue. By this time, I was already one questioning wiser.
I said as little as I could.
"You'd be saving us a lot of work if you would just admit what you did."
No comment.
"A witness saw you in the kitchen before dinner was served. Did you mess with Harold's food then?"
No comment.
"You were gonna get his money anyway. Why kill him?"
The back of my neck was lined with tiny, prickling goosebumps. I had nothing to do with Harold Montgomery's case, but if they found out my past, they'd surely think I—
An unsettling ringtone blared from Walker's phone. He checked the number, frowned, and left the room to answer it.
Jameson leaned closer the second he was gone from the room. "If you confess right now, I can cut you a deal."
I met his eyes squarely. "A deal would be pretty nice if I would have had anything to confess in the first place. You're wasting your time, detective."
"Is that so? Nothing in your little past that we can pull up to send you straight to the gallows?"
Again, that shiver of melancholy fear. But I did not let my gaze fall.
Walker returned a good two minutes later. His face looked gaunter than it had previously.
"We'll do this another time."
Jameson turned around to look at him. The air was thick with unanswered questions, but he simply shook his head. "You're free to go, Ms. Davis."
I got up from the chair and almost ran out of the interrogation room. Something about this place made me feel like I was stuck in an elevator with the lights and power off.
Just outside, chatting with a group of other officers, was someone I hadn't expected to see here. But maybe it was the nature of his work.
It was a bit coincidental, though. I'd only just met him. Did he come here to get me out of trouble? The thought made me blush.
Reed cocked his head to the side, saw me, and bared his most beautiful grin. I swore it even floored the seasoned officers in the room.
He walked toward me, and it was like everything else was suspended and nonexistent. Just him and me.
"Hey, you," he said, his baritone smooth like butter. "I thought I'd come down here and stop those old farts from bothering you with no good reason."
"I wondered why Walker looked like he'd swallowed a whole toad."
He wrinkled his nose. "You say the oddest things. I kinda like you for that."
Here I was, standing in the middle of a police station, getting told by possibly one of the most handsome men in the world that I was odd and that he liked me.
I didn't know whether I wanted to melt into a puddle or for the floor to open up and swallow me.
Instead, I just did a weird gesture with my hands. Somewhere between an "oh, I'm always like this" and an "I don't know what to say, please help me."
I don't know how he read the trappings of my mind because he extended a protective arm over my shoulder and steered me toward the exit.
