47. Reed
I’m sitting on the other side of an interview table, my hands in cuffs—but in front of me now—the chains linked through a metal loop on the table.
I assume this is to prevent me from attacking either of the detectives interviewing me.
This isn’t something I would do, but they obviously think it’s a possibility.
Everything is moving with a frustrating lack of urgency.
I don’t know where Detective Knox has gone—possibly in with one of my sons—but I have a different detective interviewing me.
“I’m Detective Stanner,” the plain-clothed police officer tells me. “Do you wish to have a lawyer present? If you do not have one, we can provide one for you.”
Getting a lawyer involved is only going to slow the process down.
“No, I don’t want a lawyer. All I want is to get the hell out of here. This whole thing is a mistake.”
I hope the boys are okay. I don’t like the way Cade was lashing out at the arresting officers. He needs to be careful. Police brutality is a thing, and if Cade does something that makes them hurt him, he could end up with serious lasting injuries from it, or even worse.
Darius is calmer, but being in a jail cell or an interview room with cops when he’s visually impaired is going to be even more challenging for him.
I don’t even know how it’ll work—if they’ll make exceptions for him, or treat him like anyone else.
That he’s also a celebrity will probably work against him.
The cops like to bring people down a peg or two, if they think they’re too big.
“Finding a kilo of cocaine in your car means you’re not going anywhere any time soon.”
I blow out a breath and shake my head. “Why the hell would I just leave a kilo of coke sitting in plain sight?” I think of something. “How did you know to search the car in the first place?”
“Detective Knox received an anonymous tip.”
Warning bells ring. He’s the same one who questioned me about the allegations about Laney.
I’d picked up then that the guy didn’t like me much.
Would not liking me really make him plant drugs in my car, or is there more to it?
Because I think he might have planted them, or he got someone else to do it.
One thing I know with one hundred percent certainty is that the coke has nothing to do with us.
Someone is setting us up, and they must have a reason to do that.
The only reason I can think of is Laney.
“What do you make of Detective Knox?” I ask. “Is he a good cop?”
“This is supposed to be me interviewing you, not the other way around.”
“Maybe I wouldn’t need to if you were asking the right questions. Now, is he a good cop?”
The detective’s features tighten.
His lack of response is all I need.
The car had been in the garage ever since last night, and I know full well that there wasn’t a big bag of coke in it when I parked it.
That means someone—quite possibly Detective Knox—planted the coke during the night.
Of course, one thing the detective didn’t know was that I was already paranoid about security.
That paranoia might have served me well now.
“I believe those drugs were planted, and I think the detective may have had something to do with it.”
Stanner’s eyes narrow. “How could you possibly know that?”
“Get me access to a phone. I can show you.”
“You’ll get your phone call when we say you do.”
I lose my temper. “I don’t want to make a call, asshole.
I want to show you footage from the hidden security cameras I’ve got placed around the property.
” I can tell he wasn’t expecting me to say that, so I press on.
“I thought the police were interested in evidence. I’m trying to hand some key evidence over to you.
I guarantee you won’t find a single fingerprint or sample of DNA on those drugs that belongs to either me or my sons.
You want proof about whose drugs those are?
I can get you proof, and I promise you they’re not mine or my sons’.
All I need is access to a laptop or a phone. ”
Detective Stanner hesitates, appearing to consider my offer. “Fine,” he relents. “I’ll get you what you need, but I’ll watch what you’re doing in case you try to delete evidence rather than showing it to me.”
I grind my teeth. “I don’t want to delete anything. That goes against exactly what I’m trying to achieve.”
He leaves the room for a few minutes, and then returns with a laptop. I quickly log in to the security footage from the house. I’d paid extra to not only ensure the cameras are recording twenty-four-seven, but that the footage is also stored on a cloud for ninety days.
The footage onscreen is in black and white—as I suspected, the crime was committed during the night—but it’s still clear enough to make out any details. The white flit of a moth crosses the camera, the scurry of something small—most likely a rat, on the far side of the screen.
But then the side door opens on the garage and a man in a baseball cap slips inside. I hate that someone got onto the property while we were all sleeping and we didn’t know anything about it. Maybe we should have gotten a dog as well as the cameras.
The man on screen unwittingly turns his head and looks directly at the camera.
Detective Stanner sits back. “Oh, fuck.”
Time is running out. Smith and his asshole friends could easily have found Laney by now. The possibility that they already have and are hurting her makes me want to tear the walls of this place down.
“You can see who that is, can’t you? It’s clearly not me. It’s Detective Knox.”
The detective seems to remember himself. He frowns and zooms in to get a better image. “I’m going to need to get this sent off to Digital Forensics, get facial recognition software on it.”
I slam my fist down on the table, as much as the cuffs will allow.
“Bullshit! You know who that is. Look at it. It’s clearly Knox.
You might not want to believe that one of your own is bent, but he’s planting the drugs in my fucking car.
That’s why he knew about it. It wasn’t some anonymous tip who sent the police our way.
It was him. What reason would he have for doing that if it isn’t to get me and my sons away from the house?
Away from Laney Flores. She’s out there on her own now, and some very bad men are most likely trying to find her.
We knew if they made it to safety, they’d come after us, and something tells me that’s exactly what’s happening here. ”
No matter what he says, there’s no denying that it’s Knox on the security cameras and he’s clearly putting something inside the vehicle. Why the fuck hadn’t I thought to lock it? I guess it doesn’t even matter. If he hadn’t had access to the car, he’d have put the drugs somewhere else.
“Please.” I’m aware I’m begging now, but I don’t even care. I will stomp all over what remains of my pride if it means Laney is safe. “Just find Laney Flores. Make sure she’s safe. I don’t give a fuck what you do to me.”
The detective looks between me and the laptop.
I want to grab him by the collar of his suit and shake him until his teeth rattle, but I clench my fists and hold back my building frustration. Every minute that ticks past is another minute where Laney might be being hurt.
Detective Stanner replays the footage.