Chapter Nineteen
Frankie
The drive to the station is quiet. No music to fill the tension-riddled air between us. Even Cosmos in his carrier hasn’t made a peep. I didn’t ask questions when Noah loaded my bag and the cat’s stuff into the truck. I couldn’t speak around the lump that was lodged in my throat.
My eyes continually drift over to him in the driver’s seat, silent and seemingly composed while a turbulent sea rocks within me.
“What should I say?” I whisper. My fucking heart is about to give out right now, and I’m sweating so bad I reek of guilt.
“Tell them what you want.” What? He’s not going to go in there and hand himself over, is he?
“Noah…”
Pulling into an empty spot, he slams the truck in park. He doesn’t move. Doesn’t turn to look at me.
“They will take us in separately, Frankie. If either of us were suspects, they would have pulled us in by now. Tell them the truth—”
“You’re joking! If I tell them the truth, they will have you pinned to the floor and in shackles in a blink of an eye.”
His jaw works, his grip on the steering wheel tightening. He stares out the windshield with a vacancy that fills my stomach with lead.
“Tell them what you want,” he repeats. “I’ve arranged for Taylor to meet you here when you’re done. I’ll leave the truck unlocked, all your belongings, including your phone, are in the back.”
Turning off the ignition, he slips from the truck and rounds the front, opening the door for me to slide out.
No more words are exchanged as we walk into the building. Dread washes over me like a suffocating blanket. So, this is it. What the fuck was the point?
The station is mostly empty, a few people and police officers milling around. Noah leads us to the front desk where a young female officer sits. When she looks up from her computer, her eyes round to the size of saucers and she nearly tips her chair.
“Can I…can I help you?” she stutters, her cheeks flaming a deep shade of red as she tries to recover and appear professional. Noah seems to have that effect on the opposite sex, and obviously this cop isn’t immune to his ridiculous good looks, either.
“We're here to speak to Officer Barde. Noah Porter and Frankie Clarke,” Noah tells her.
I’m riddled with anxiety, my mouth the Sahara Desert as she clicks away on her keyboard.
“Just a moment.” She holds up a shaky finger, her cheeks still a blushing shade of pink.
She calls Officer Barde, and within minutes, he’s coming through a set of locked doors that separates the lobby from the rest of the department.
Leaning in to shake both our hands, he takes Noah’s first in a firm grip. I don’t miss the way he assesses him, eyes taking in his height and size, before he claps him on the shoulder, moving on to me with a little more kindness.
He leads us to the back through rows of cubicles. Some have other officers sitting at their desks working, but it’s mostly barren. Barde gestures to a group of chairs lined up against the wall and we both move to sit, but he nabs me before I can lower myself to a seat.
“Actually, Miss Clarke, I’d like to speak with you first.”
I look to Noah. I don’t know why or what I’m looking for, but I’m hoping he will give me something. He tips his chin to me once, reclining back and folding his arms over his chest.
This is it.
Following Officer Barde into what I’m assuming is an interrogation room, given the singular table and wall-to-wall mirrors, he pulls out a chair for me to sit as he takes the opposite one. The one with a manilla folder in front of it.
Everywhere I look, my eyes are met with my reflection. It’s eerie and unnerving, and I can’t help but notice my appearance. I’m as white as a ghost, the terror written all over my face for everyone to see. Fuck, this is going to end badly.
“Are you ok?” Barde asks as he pulls the folder to him, flipping it open, and sifting through some papers. He’s chomping incessantly on gum again. I don’t know if he’s an ex-smoker or it’s a way to relieve nerves, but God, the smacking is too much.
“I’m ok.” My voice is an octave too high, betraying the facade I’m trying to put on right now.
“You’re sure? Do you want something to drink? Coffee, tea, water?” All I can think is that it’s just like the movies. They try to make you feel comfortable, give you a false sense of security.
“I’m fine, thank you.”
He scrutinizes me for a moment. I wonder if he can hear the trepidation in my voice, see the tremors in my hands that are clutched tightly under the table.
“What’s your relationship with Mr. Porter?” It takes me a second to realize he means Noah.
“We’re co-workers,” I state
“And you choose to stay at his home for the weekend? When we spoke at your apartment, you said you didn’t have anyone close you could reach out to.” Fuck, he’s astute. The guy doesn’t miss a beat.
“I didn’t. I don’t. I had checked into a motel down the street from my work. Another co-worker texted me, asking if I’d like to go out for the night. Go see some bands play at Threshold. I know it was a bad idea, but I was rattled by the gift I had received, and I didn’t want to be alone…” I trail off.
He's taking notes as I talk, periodically looking up from his notepad.
“So, you went to Threshold. And this is where you met Mr. Brown?”
“That’s correct.”
“What happened after that?”
“We hung out. Had a few drinks together. He was showing some interest in me, but it wasn’t reciprocated. My co-worker, Taylor, was into his friend, and it was looking like it was going to lead to more. However, I didn’t share those feelings for Emmett.”
Nodding his head, he continues writing, the scratching of the pen on paper amplified in the small room.
“And at what point did you meet Mr. Porter?”
This is where it all gets hazy. The phone call from him. Noah injecting me with something. Dragging me back to his house. I hesitate for a moment. I could tell him everything right now. Every sordid detail. But I bite my tongue.
“Shortly before you called. He understood the circumstances with Emmett. He offered for me to stay at his place.”
Officer Barde watches me, his pen bouncing off his pad of paper. He smacks his gum, popping small bubbles behind his teeth before he shuffles the file until a new one appears from underneath.
He grills me about Myles. About my relationship with him. How we met. How long it lasted. Why it ended. Apparently, when he questioned Martha, she had told him about our screaming matches, how she had threatened Myles a time or two to get his shit together.
He details that the DNA from the heart matches Myles’ DNA in the database. He had a criminal record, after all. He was released from jail a month ago and didn’t waste any time getting into shit again. He was slinging drugs for a dealer on the south side of town. According to a source, he didn’t turn up with the cash and that has led the police to believe he was murdered. The heart could be a warning from them, as I was connected to Myles before he went to jail. Drug dealers don’t take too kindly to being ripped off.
“Your landlord is installing new security cameras, as well as better locks.”
Well, that will make Martha happy.
“It's an open investigation, and police will be patrolling your neighborhood for the time being. Unfortunately, Myles’ murder is the reality of getting involved with the wrong kind of people. A lot of times, you end up in jail or dead.”
He rises from his chair, assumingly to dismiss me.
“In the meantime, you can go back to your apartment, but stay vigilant. I know I don’t have to tell you going to the club was reckless. Thankfully, Mr. Porter was kind enough to keep you safe.”
Keep me safe, alright, if you call tying someone up and fucking them into submission safe . Pushing back my chair, I start towards the door. Just as I have my hand on the knob, Officer Barde calls out to me.
“And Frankie, stay away from those kinds of guys from now on, yeah?”
I hold back a snort. Myles was a kitten in comparison to the guy sitting down the hall.
I wait for Noah by his truck, leaning against the passenger door. The temperatures have dipped well below zero and the last rays of daylight are dissipating, but he still hasn’t come out. I know he told me it was unlocked, but it’s killing me not knowing what’s happening in there. I’ve picked my cuticles raw, I’ve paced the length of the truck more times than I can count, but there’s no sign of him and no movement inside from what I can tell.
The streetlamps pop on, the parking lot is empty besides a few cruisers. I’m lost in my thoughts when a silver car pulls up next to Noah’s truck and Taylor jumps out.
“Girl, are you ok?” She rushes up to me, embracing me in a hug.
“Yeah, I’m fine.”
“I'll help you load your stuff up in my car. Yours is still parked at mine.”
It’s been a crazy weekend, and leaving Taylor’s townhouse feels like ages ago.
“Ok, thanks. That would be great.”
We take my bags, the cat carrier with Cosmos, who is now protesting loudly, out of Noah’s truck, and put them in the back seat of her car. I open the passenger door, lingering a little longer, hoping to see Noah, but he doesn’t come out. Climbing inside and buckling up, Taylor pulls out.
“So Noah, huh? Guess I was right?” She raises her brows as she pulls up to a stop sign. She’s probably been dying to say I told you so all weekend.
“Yeah, yeah,” I brush her off.
“What was he like? I bet he has a big dick and a filthy mouth; the quiet ones always do.”
I shift towards her in my seat. “And who said I had sex with him?”
“You don’t have to; I saw how you were together before you left the club.”
“And how was that?” I’m genuinely curious. I have vague recollections of Friday night. I have no idea how Noah got me out of there without anyone noticing.
“Like you could start a fire from looks alone.” She mock fans herself, before swiping the blinker to turn onto her street.
“That’s how we looked together?”
“Babe, he is fifty shades of fucked up over you. From the moment he clocked you across the room, it was like you were the only one who existed. And he did that thing where he came up behind you and claimed you by wrapping his hand around your throat. It was straight out of a book. I got hotter watching you two for a few minutes than I did for an entire night with Forest.”
Wow.
“You didn’t see anything odd that night?”
“Nope, cops came and spoke to me and Forest. Emmett’s ego was wounded when you left with another guy, but Forest and I were ready to leave. He chose to stay behind. That’s the last anyone’s heard from him.”
Noah managed to drug and kidnap me, and somehow make it like we were two lovers ready to ravage each other. Then he murders a guy, all in one night.
I have so much to mentally unpack later.
“Thanks for helping me out, I appreciate it,” I say to her as I transfer stuff from her car to mine.
“Frankie, any time, babe. I’m here for you.” That means a lot to me. More than she knows.
“I know, and same. If you ever need anything, just ask.”