It was unnerving to be so closely observed, my personal information dissected as they attempted to piece together the puzzle that was our lives. Reed even taunted me about the phone records they were working on obtaining, as soon as the request was answered and the warrant issued. His threats and scrutiny did intimidate me, twisting and twining with the grief and fear already roiling through my gut. Unable to sit still a moment longer, I bounced out of my seat and began pacing around the kitchen and family room as a thousand thoughts swirled through my mind.
The most urgent was Ian. I needed to find him and ask him to come home, but I didn’t want to break the devastating news about his father over the phone, and I didn’t want him to arrive while the house was being searched by the police. I needed to shield him from this as much as possible.
I also wished I could call Sean, to warn him of what had happened and was now taking place. For all I knew, they were tearing his place apart, too. At least he knew more about the law than I did and likely would know to keep his mouth shut, unlike me.
I shook my head and closed my eyes. “So stupid,” I whispered under my breath.
“What was that, Mrs. Ross?” Reed asked, stepping away from the counter’s edge where he’d been leaning while scrolling through my phone.
“When will you be done, Detective? I need to call my son and speak to him in private about his father.”
Flipping my phone over and over in his hand, he sauntered over in my direction and stood before me. He took one last look at my phone then held it out to me with a patronizing smirk.
“We’re wrapping up now and will be gone within a few minutes.”
“What about this mess you’ve left, Detective? What am I supposed to tell my son?”
For a moment, Reed had the presence of mind to appear sympathetic. “I’m very sorry for your boy. This won’t be easy on him, I’m afraid.” But then he scanned the room and shrugged. “As for the mess, well, it’s nothing a well-paid army of servants can’t clean up…eh, Mrs. Ross?”
I snorted. “I don’t have servants, Detective. Only a cleaning service that comes once a week.”
He glanced around at all the open drawers and doors, their contents left in haphazard piles. “Money well spent in this case, I’d say.”
I sneered at him, sick of his condescending attitude. “I’d like you to leave now, Detective. I’ll show your team out when they’re ready.
He chuckled and looked me up and down. “I certainly get what the kid sees in you,” he remarked with an insinuating grin.
I gasped, my mouth open in outrage.
Reed started to walk away, but stopped and looked over his shoulder. “How ‘bout we go for a ride, Mrs. Ross? I have a few more questions I’d like to ask you down at the precinct.”
I snapped my mouth shut. “Am I under arrest?”
“No, but that can be arranged if necessary. I just thought you’d be anxious to help us find your husband’s killer…and Ms. Wylde’s, too, though I can certainly understand your reluctance, considering…” He left the rest hanging.
I felt he was giving me little choice but to cooperate, that not doing so would be construed as some measure of involvement or even guilt. So, with his team now departing, I grabbed my purse from the kitchen desk and tossed my phone inside before hitching it over my shoulder.
Reed stepped aside with his arm out. “Ladies first.”
I walked out the front door with my chin up, waiting for Reed so I could lock up the house. He sauntered down the stone walkway and opened the backdoor on his unmarked American sedan, where he directed me inside. Slipping behind the wheel, he started the engine and followed the line of three police cruisers out my long driveway.
When we threaded the opening in the dense hedge along the street, I saw Ira Breckmeier behind the wheel of his Bentley, pulled in tight to the bushes, his mouth wide in wonder as he spied me sitting in the backseat of Reed’s car. I placed my hand on the side window as we passed and pleaded silently, Please, Ira, help me, before we drove away.
Voices echoed. Echoed all around me. Calling my name. Calling. Calling. Softly, at first. Then louder. So loud. Urgent. Insistent. I tried to answer, but nothing came out. Nothing. Only silence. Then the earth moved beneath me. Shaking. Shaking. Urging me out of the darkness. Wake up. Wake up. Wake up.
“Wake up, Mr. Bennett!”
With great difficulty, I pried my eyelids open, blinking against the harsh light. My surroundings came into focus ever so slowly. A small crowd of strangers were gathered around me as I lay in bed on my back, naked, with only a sheet covering me, hips to waist. I glanced about and recognized my bedroom, yet I felt oddly disoriented.
Lost.
Floating.
And very confused.
Last thing I remembered was blacking-out on my living room floor. So how had I ended up in my room, and why couldn’t I recall undressing and climbing into bed?
I had little opportunity to contemplate the possibilities when an older guy in a tie and jacket started ordering a pair of uniformed cops around—Seattle cops—as well as several others in black jackets with embroidered patches on their backs that said FORENSICS in thick white letters.
I leaned up on my elbows. “What the hell?” I slurred, then grimaced at the bitter taste in my mouth. “Who the fuck are you?” I demanded of the grey-haired guy who appeared to be in charge.
He gave one last command and turned to me. “Sean Daniel Bennett?” he asked, his blue eyes raking over me.
I covered my legs with the sheet and yanked the blanket over top then struggled to sit up. I scrubbed a hand down my face while the world around me spun to the right.
“You better have a solid legal reason for breaking and entering,” I warned.
He tossed a tri-folded piece of paper onto my lap. “Reason enough, and your building concierge let us in. No breaking required,” he said and walked away when someone called out from the other room.
I unfolded the paper, a legal search warrant issued by the very King County judge I clerked for, a major conflict of interest for the cops, but troubling for me nonetheless.
“Fuck,” I swore as I scanned the legalese. “‘Ongoing murder investigation’? What the…” I laid the warrant down on the bed and glanced around for some clothes, but it didn’t appear I’d left anything laying around like I usually did, so I yanked the sheet from the mattress, wrapped it around my waist, and stumbled over to my dresser.
“Don’t touch anything,” the old guy ordered as he returned to my room.
“Dude, come on,” I pleaded with my hand out. “There’re a bunch of strangers crawling all over my pad. I need to get dressed.”
He shook his head. “Not until my guys go through everything.”
“Seriously?”
“Yeah. Seriously. Now sit down and don’t move ‘til I say. Amari?” he called out, and one of the uniforms stepped to his side. “Watch him,” he ordered with a finger in my direction.
The uniform nodded and pointed to my bed. “Have a seat,” he insisted with a hand on his gun belt.
I did as commanded, but looked back at the old guy. “At least tell me what’s going on, why you’re searching my house.”
The old guy—who I assumed was the lead investigator on whatever case they were working on—tapped one of his men on the elbow and politely asked him to search the dresser so I could grab some clothes. Then he settled his attention back on me again.
“Evidence gathered at another location included electronic material connected to you,” he said without explaining much at all.
I shook my head, confused. “What material? Gathered from where?”
“I’m not at liberty to disclose that at this time,” he said and turned to leave yet again.
I stood and took a step after him, stumbling as my feet tangled in the loose sheet.
The uniform was quick with his hand at my shoulder. “Please sit back down, sir.”
I attempted to shrug him off while I ca
lled out, “Wait,” to the old guy.
With a huff, he stepped back into the doorway, his brow knotted in annoyance. The uniform shoved me down along the foot of the bed and stood uncomfortably close, but I kept my eye on the old guy.
“I didn’t catch your name,” I said.
“Matthew Reed, Detective, Seattle PD, East Precinct.”
I nodded with a forced half-smile. “Look, Officer—”
“Dee-tec-tive,” he corrected phonetically, slow, like I was a moron.
“Sorry. Detective. Look, I’m a third year law—”
“I know exactly who and what you are, Mr. Bennett.”
I sighed and bit back a retort. “Can you at least tell me what you’re investigating?”
“Double murder,” he replied with a certain amount of smugness.
“What? Who?”
He hoisted a single brow and said, “Your lover’s husband and his girlfriend,” before moving back down the hall.
My heart thumped against my sternum. “What the fuck?”
I raked my fingers through my hair, my mind racing at warp speed. Double murder? My lover’s husband and his girlfriend? He must be referring to…
Oh my God, no… Eden!
“Wait!” I yelled in panic. “What about Eden? Tell me she’s okay. Tell me she’s not hurt!” But Detective Reed didn’t bother to answer. He let me stew in my own fear.
Calm down. Think. Reed would’ve mentioned if she was hurt. He would’ve said if she was involved. Jesus Christ, Declan Ross…murdered. Holy shit! And his girlfriend, too. But…was that Eden’s best friend…or mine? They were both seeing him. Damn, I prayed it wasn’t Trin. Please, don’t let it be Trin! But as concerned as I was about her, I couldn’t stop worrying about Eden. I kept telling myself, the cop would’ve said if she was involved; he would’ve taunted me if she was hurt. No, Eden’s fine. She’s safe. Stay calm and think. Think, damn you, think! Then I wondered how they’d connected me to Eden in the first place. Fuck…I bet they saw our text messages on her phone.
“Crap,” I muttered and glanced over at my nightstand. I always charged my cell phone there while I slept. But I couldn’t remember going to bed, so…had I even put it there? Fuck!
Breathe. Stay calm. Eden’s safe. Think. Just think. One thing at a time…
With a deep breath, I leaned over and swiped the search warrant from where I’d left it. By law, warrants had to be specific on where the authorities were permitted to search, but, glancing at this one, it was pretty broad, and the cops were allowed to search anything within my residence, including my cell phone and computer. Either would connect me to both Eden and Trin. So who was the source?
“All clear,” the forensic officer searching my dresser reported. From there, he packed up his equipment and moved into my bathroom.
“All right, you can get dressed,” the uniform standing guard announced.
“Gee, thanks,” I replied, but the derisive sentiment appeared lost on the cop as he settled back at ease with his hands behind his back and his eyes forward.
Easy, I urged myself. Don’t exacerbate the situation.
I sifted through the mess of clothes the forensic guy left piled on the floor until I found something appropriate to wear. Slipping my boxers on beneath the sheet, I spoke to the uniform without looking at him. “I need to use the toilet.”
“You’ll have to ask the officer searching your bathroom,” he replied.
After I pulled on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, I wadded up the sheet and threw it back onto the bed on my way to the master bath. But, before I even made it to the door, the guy inside yelled for Detective Reed, who hustled back into my room.
With a hand to my chest, he pushed me out of the way and said, “Sit back down,” adding, “What d’ya got?” to his forensic guy once he entered the bathroom
Disregarding Reed’s warning, I stepped into the doorway and glanced around. With his hands encased in blue latex gloves, the forensic guy held out two large, clear plastic evidence bags with the date, location, and my name scrawled across the label. Reed took the bags and examined the contents.
“These yours?” he asked me with a brief glance.
I stepped closer and took a long look at the bag’s contents.
“Grey U-Dub sweats,” Reed added.
I swallowed hard, not sure how to answer.
“Sorta,” I said at first. “I mean, no, they don’t belong to me, but I was wearing them last night.” I shook my head. “I mean…I borrowed them from a friend when I got mud all over my clothes.”
“Who’s your friend?” Reed asked. “What’s his name?”
“Um…her,” I clarified. “They belong to a girl, I mean…a woman. Trinitee Marsh. We go to school together.”
Reed handed the bags back to his guy and whipped out his smartphone. “Can you spell that?” he asked and jotted the information down. “Trinitee. That’s an unusual name.”
“Well, she’s an unusual girl,” I said without thinking.
“She live nearby?”
“Um, yeah. Maybe five miles, in Redmond near Microsoft.”
Reed simply nodded as he tapped on his phone. His reaction—or lack of one—suggested her name didn’t mean anything to him, which probably meant it was Eden’s friend who was killed along with her husband. Not Trinitee.
I closed my eyes and breathed a sigh of relief. Even though I was still very angry at the games Trin had been playing with my life, I certainly didn’t wish her any harm. When I opened my eyes, Reed had pocketed his cell and stepped closer to his forensic guy still holding the bags.
“So, how’d you get mud on your clothes,” Reed asked as he took one of the bags back and inspected it more closely.
Just thinking about last night made the heat of Eden’s betrayal wash over me. I gritted my teeth and tried to shrug off the heartache. Calm down, I kept telling myself. Eden was in trouble. Her husband had just been murdered. “I…um…I slipped in the rain and fell.”
“Is that how you got all chewed up?” he asked.
“Excuse me?”
He pointed at me. “Your hands. They’re a bit…ragged.”
I lifted my hands and looked them over. Sure enough, the flesh along the heel of each hand and across my knuckles was bruised and tattered. “I, um…I guess.”
“You guess?” Reed echoed. “You aren’t sure how you injured your own hands?”
I raised my eyes to his. He glared at me with intensity.
“Well, I…uh…last night, I…I was pissed and—”
“At what?” he interrupted.
I narrowed my eyes, like it should be obvious. “At falling down and ruining my clothes.”
He pressed his mouth into a frown, yet nodded like it made sense. “So where’re your muddy clothes?”
I thought for a second and shut my eyes. “Ugh. I left them in Trin’s bathroom.”
Reed smiled. “That’s okay. I’ll send someone over there to pick ‘em up.”
“What?” I asked. “Why?”
Same pleasant smile, like this was all just routine, which it might be for him, but it wasn’t for me. I started to feel like I was being played…again. And that’s when I realized I’d probably said too much.
Fuck.
You’d think I’d be smarter than to allow some schmuck cop to manipulate me into answering questions when it was my right to remain silent, and doing so was the much-wiser choice. No doubt Trin would have a grand laugh at that. She’d told me I should’ve walked away after having Eden that first time, that nothing good would come of it, and, like always, it appeared she might be right, dangerously so.
My heart rate ticked up a notch. I suddenly felt like the walls were closing in on me, and, when Reed asked what was all over Trin’s sweats, and the forensic guy replied, “Tests positive for blood; same in the shower and sink,” those walls began to crush me.
“What the fuck?” I swore as I began to back out of the bathroom.
Reed turned and ste
pped toward me. “I think it’s time you and I had a more serious conversation.”
I continued to back up into my bedroom, stepping toward the open hallway door. “Wait,” I begged, pointing at Reed.
“Don’t make this difficult, Mr. Bennett.”
“I haven’t done anything. I swear. Please…”
Reed shook his head. “Stop right there,” he ordered before stomping after me.
I turned and dashed down the hall, but I’d barely made it to the kitchen when one of Reed’s men blocked my path. I crashed into him, and Reed slammed into us both. He grabbed one of my arms while his guy held fast onto the other. Reed slapped a pair of cuffs around my wrists the moment they had my hands at my back.
“Sean Bennett, you’re under arrest in connection with the murder of Declan Ross and Aurelia Wylde.” He seized my arm and hauled me toward the front door.
“I didn’t do this.”
“You have the right to remain silent, Mr. Bennett. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law…”
“Please, Detective, I’ve never even met those people.”
“You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided for you.”
“This is a setup. I didn’t kill anyone!”
“Do you understand the rights I’ve just read to you, Mr. Bennett?”
“Please, Detective—”
He stopped and looked me hard in the eye. “Mr. Bennett, do you understand the rights I’ve just read to you, yes or no?”
“Yes, of course, but—”
“With these rights in mind, do you wish to speak with me?” he asked, his penetrating gaze a silent warning, but to what, I wasn’t sure.
I wasn’t sure of much of anything. There were huge gaps in my memory over the last twelve hours. I worried Trin might have had something to do with it, but it was the hours before I saw her that I was most concerned with, so it couldn’t be her, could it? Which meant…
Eden.
I couldn’t help but wonder if she’d somehow set me up.
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