Chapter 50
“ L et’s go over this again. When did you arrive at the Jinkins’ estate?” Officer Douglas asks. “And this time explain in more detail how you got there.”
“I explained everything already.” I scowl at him across his cluttered desk, but he seems immune to my bad attitude. Truth is I’m too tired to continue slinging it. I’m physically exhausted and worried out of my mind for Harmony.
“Answer them again.” Douglas quirks his brow at me with his hands poised over his keyboard.
Fuck . This is tricky. He didn’t write anything down at the scene. Probably because I was initially brought in for allegedly assaulting the chief’s son, not whatever bullshit they’re now angling to throw at me this morning if Harmony doesn’t come around.
“How’s Harmony?” I ask, my gut knotted with worry. No one told me a damn thing while I was downstairs in a holding cell overnight.
“Still hospitalized, but her condition after an accidental drowning is listed as stable.” His emphasis on the accidental part makes the knot in my gut tighten.
The powdered eggs and burnt toast they served me lurch into the back of my throat. I swallow carefully and try to think. If I tell him the truth, that Harmony called for the ride to the Jinkins’ estate, then that will inevitably bring Carson onto the scene at that hour and my bullshit story will unravel.
As I’m considering, a flurry of movement by the swing entrance to the bullpen where a half dozen officers are at their desks working other cases draws my attention. I turn my head.
“Peace,” I croak her name. I’m a parched wanderer in the desert, and she’s my oasis.
She startles when she shifts and finds me. Her red-rimmed eyes widen behind the lenses of her glasses. She’s wearing different clothes this morning. She’s not in her pajamas or the sexy dress she wore to the concert. Today, a faded Brutal Strength concert T-shirt clings to her amazing tits and worn jeans accentuate her lower curves. Her golden hair is damp from a shower, the long strands darker than usual. I imagine she must have rushed home from the hospital to change before being summoned to the station. Sensing a glare, I glance behind me, watching Mark’s dad emerge from his corner office.
“Peace Jinkins,” the chief of the Lakeshore police calls. “Over here.” Standing in front of glass that delineates his office and bears his name, he seems to be expecting her. He was probably the one who summoned her.
I glance back at Peace and see her nod. Color flags her cheeks as she weaves her way around the other desks. She chooses the long way around the perimeter of the room. I suspect to avoid contact with me.
She likely believes my bullshit story that it was me swimming with her sister, and who knows what else she thinks happened. So I guess I don’t blame her for avoiding me, but it still cuts me to the quick.
“Why is Peace here?” I ask Douglas after a painful swallow to moisten my dry throat. I failed Peace and my guilt about lying to her and everyone else is choking me.
“Giving a statement, same as you,” he replies, his eyes narrowing.
I drop my gaze. “What else are you gonna charge me with?” I mutter.
“We’re just talking right now.”
“I’m handcuffed.” I lift my gaze and hit him with a disbelieving look. “Been in a cell all damn night without a lawyer or any due process. We’re not just talking.”
“A formal hearing for the assault charge is on the docket for tomorrow.” Both his bushy black brows rise, but he remains unruffled. Nothing I say seems to rattle him. “But since you’re already here, we’re aiming to make sure the chain of events involving War’s daughter lines up.”
“You a Tempest fan?” I assume he is given the abbreviated use of the lead singer’s name.
“Who isn’t?” He throws back, answering my question without really answering. I could learn something about keeping my cool from this guy.
As I mull over his answer, a sudden flurry of activity by the entrance to the bullpen draws my eye. My jaw drops when I see my old man.
“Bullet Jackson,” Douglas intones in an awe-filled whisper.
Dad finds me, and the frost of displeasure in his expression douses me with cold. Douglas stands and smooths his unwrinkled uniform as my father makes his way toward us. I keep my seat but brace internally. My mother isn’t with my father to soften him, but there’s a man following him, who looks like a lawyer type wearing an expensive suit. Dread pools in my gut as they stop at Douglas’ desk.
Peace
“I’m sorry to pull you away from the hospital.” Chief Lewis gestures to the pair of wooden chairs in front of his desk. I sink into the closest one, my legs unsteady after seeing Bo. He looked terrible. He had circles under his eyes and the orange jumpsuit with the property of the Lakewood Jail was all wrong on him. The resignation in his gaze was disturbing. He lacked his usual spark of defiance.
“Has there been any improvement in your sister’s condition?” he asks as he walks around his desk.
“She squeezed my hand,” I reply softly, watching him sit. It happened right after I finished singing to her. My heart leaping with hope, I pushed the call button. “But the doctor said it was only an automatic reflex.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.” On the other side of his desk with his hands steepled, he looks sincere.
I bob my head, tears clogging my throat.
“I’ll get right to why I asked you to come in so you can return to the hospital.” He doesn’t offer comfort, not that I expect it from him. All business, he opens the file in front of him. I see Bo’s name scribbled on the paper inside it. “You were the first one to see Robert Jackson after the alleged drowning.”
“Why alleged?” I interrupt. It’s obvious Harmony almost drowned.
“Because until your sister wakes up”—he glances up at me—“Robert Jackson is our only witness and we’re not certain about what really happened.”
“Bo didn’t hurt Harmony.” My brows pinch together. I might not know everything that happened that night, but I’m one hundred percent certain of that. “If that’s what you’re suggesting.”
“Who gave your sister those drugs?” He tilts his head. “Those are definitely harmful, not to mention illegal.”
“I’m not sure.” I shake my head. Are the drugs the reason they brought Bo here? “But I do know he wasn’t high.”
“Robert Jackson has a history of substance abuse.” He hits me with that shocking news, and it’s all I can do not to react. “Supposedly, he’s sober following his second stint in rehab, but we all know how that usually goes.”
I don’t know. I didn’t know. I swallow hard. “Was he tested for drugs?”
“Absolutely,” he replies. “However?—”
“The results were negative,” I interrupt, hoping I’m right.
“Correct.” He frowns. It seems he wants Bo to be guilty of something other than saving my sister’s life, and I wonder why he hasn’t mentioned Bo resuscitating Harmony.
“Can I read his statement?” I ask. The facts as Bo presented them don’t add up. Sitting beside Harmony, I replayed everything and reached that conclusion.
Why did Bo go swimming with Harmony? He never showed any interest in my sister, not even when we were kids. And if he truly went swimming with her, why weren’t his clothes or at least his hair wet?
“No can do.” He closes the file. “We need your unbiased statement.” He gives me a firm look. “I need you to explain in your own words what happened. We’d like to know the exact time Bo arrived at your house. Was he alone?”
My forehead creases. “He arrived around two or three in the morning.” I press my lips into a flat line as I recall Bo telling me how Harmony went to the venue to confront him. Was he alone when she did that? Is there someone else involved? Someone Bo would lie to protect like he did for me when we were kids? I go completely still as a thought occurs to me. Mark’s dad doesn’t notice. He’s too busy scribbling my words on his notepad.
“Am I under investigation?” I ask, going on the offensive. “Should someone read me my rights?”
“Oh, no. Not at all.” He guffaws. “We’re just trying to get all the facts straight.”
“I want a lawyer present before I answer any more questions,” I demand. And I want something else. Bo. I desperately need to talk to him to determine if what I suspect is right.