Chapter 26
Jada
The door to the police interview room clicked shut behind me with a heavy finality that made my chest lock up. I stood frozen just inside the room, every nerve ending on edge. There was nothing in here except a rectangular table, four chairs, and a two-way mirror I couldn’t stop staring at, even though it didn’t help one damn bit.
If someone was watching me, I didn’t feel safer. I felt exposed. Judged. Like they were trying to figure out how dangerous I was—or how broken.
My palms were slick and cold. I wiped them on the thighs of my jeans, then crossed my arms and immediately dropped them. I didn’t know how to hold my body. Didn’t know what I was supposed to look like. Innocent? Cooperative? Less…unstable?
The chair scraped when I pulled it out, too loud in the silence, and I flinched like I’d broken something. I sat anyway. Folded my hands and unfolded them. Counted the tiles on the ceiling. I stopped at forty-three before I lost track of which one I was on.
God, I wished Hunter were here.
Even knowing he was out of town, even knowing there was nothing he could do to magically fix this, I still ached for his voice in my ear. His steady hands. That quiet calm he carried like armor, like nothing could touch him—and if you were close enough, nothing could touch you either.
But he wasn’t here. And this—whatever this was—I had to do on my own.
I pressed my fingertips to my temples. Tried to breathe through the panic building in my throat.
What if they asked me something I couldn’t answer? What if I said the wrong thing? What if they found out something even I didn’t know?
The door creaked open, and I tensed before I even looked up.
Detectives Johnson and Kelly stepped in like they owned the place, just like they had an hour ago when they showed up at Pawsitive Connections. Johnson gave me a short nod, like we were about to have a civil chat over coffee. Kelly didn’t bother with any of that. He just walked around the table and dropped into the chair across from me, posture relaxed, eyes anything but.
Johnson took the seat next to him and opened a folder slowly, deliberately. “Jada, before we ask you anything else, I’m going to read you your rights.”
I gave a tight nod. My hands were locked together in my lap, fingertips like ice.
Johnson’s voice was even, practiced. “You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law…”
The words blurred at the edges, like I was hearing them through water. I focused on the table. On the small chip in the wood near the corner. Anything to keep from unraveling.
“Do you understand these rights as I’ve read them to you?” Johnson asked.
“Yes.” My voice barely broke a whisper. I cleared my throat and said it again. “Yes.”
He gave a quick nod and flipped a page in the folder. “We want to ask you a few questions about Alan Ard.”
I’d known it was coming. Didn’t make it easier to hear.
“How did you meet?”
I knew the answer secondhand. “I was visiting my brother in prison, where Alan was also incarcerated. Somehow Alan and I started talking, then we became a couple.”
Kelly wrote that down. His pen scratched across the page like he was tallying something.
“And are you aware that Alan Ard was killed in prison a few weeks ago?” Johnson asked.
“Yes.”
Kelly looked up. “Do you know who might have done it?”
I didn’t even blink. “No. I don’t have any idea.”
That part was true. All of it was. Even if they didn’t believe me.
Johnson’s pen clicked, loud in the silence. “How close would you say you were with Ard?”
“I don’t know,” I exhaled slowly, trying to keep my voice steady. “As close as you can be with someone when he’s in prison and you’re not. I think it wasn’t healthy. That he used me.”
“Why do you say that?” Kelly asked, pen ready again.
I hesitated, then went with what Jace had told me. “Alan talked me into opening a joint bank account with him while he was still inside. And as soon as he got out on parole…he emptied it. Completely cleared it out. It should’ve been ours, but he just took it.”
Johnson’s brows ticked up. “He drained the entire account? Was it a lot?”
“I guess that depends on how you define a lot.” I shrugged. “Over ten thousand dollars.”
“Anything else like that?” Kelly asked. “Financial stuff, anything suspicious?”
I hated that I couldn’t answer with anything solid. “I don’t know. I wish I did.”
Kelly didn’t back off. “You were with the guy, he was your boyfriend, but you don’t know if he was doing anything shady?”
I swallowed hard. “I’ve had some…trauma recently. It’s caused me to have some memory loss. Plus, I don’t really like thinking too much about Alan, especially since he’s dead.”
Johnson just made another note. Kelly glanced at me once, then looked away.
I sat there bracing, my body tense in the chair, waiting for the real questions to start.
Kenzie Hurst. The kidnapping. The hospital. Why I ran. Why I ended up in Montana like I was trying to disappear.
And Hunter… God, they’d probably ask about him too. Why he was helping me. How well we knew each other. If he had any connection to Alan. I was scrambling through what I thought I could say, trying to find pieces that might help me put together answers that didn’t make me look guilty—or stupid.
But it ended up I didn’t need any of it, because they didn’t ask.
Johnson flipped another page in his folder. “Did Alan ever mention anyone he might’ve been afraid of? Someone who had it out for him?”
I blinked. “No. Not that I know of.”
Kelly scribbled something in his notes. “What about any recent arguments? Maybe someone he had problems with in prison?”
“He never mentioned anything like that to me that I recall.”
They both nodded like that was enough. Then Johnson closed the folder with a soft thud and stood.
“All right. That’s all we needed.”
I frowned. “That’s it?”
Kelly stood too, casual as anything. “Like we tried to tell you earlier, these were just routine questions. We’re finalizing the file on Alan Ard’s case. Needed to check a couple boxes, that’s all.”
Routine .
Johnson offered a polite smile. “You’re free to go.”
Just like that.
They walked out, suits shifting, footsteps fading behind the heavy door—and left me sitting there blinking like I’d been hit with something I didn’t see coming.
A few minutes later, Lachlan stepped inside, his posture relaxed, but his eyes scanned me fast—cop-like—before softening just a touch.
“You ready to go?”
I nodded and stood, muscles protesting from sitting so stiffly. “Yeah.”
He didn’t say anything else until we were back outside, the late-afternoon sun casting long shadows across the lot. It felt good to breathe air that didn’t taste like Lysol and nerves. He led me to his SUV, opened the passenger door, and waited until I was in before circling around to the driver’s side.
We pulled out of the lot in silence, the hum of the tires against the road the only sound for a while.
Then Lachlan glanced over, one hand on the wheel. “I was listening in through the mirror. Just so you know—you did good. You kept it honest. Straightforward.”
A beat passed before he added, “You’ve got no reason to worry.”
I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding. “You really think so?”
“I do. Maybe Johnson and Kelly are just thorough. Old-school types. Drove eight hours from Colorado for what could’ve been a ten-minute call. But they got what they came for.” He shrugged. “They’ll be on their way out soon enough. I don’t think you have anything more to worry about.”
That quieted the low buzz of panic that had been rattling in the back of my skull since they’d first shown up at Pawsitive Connections. I pressed my palms to my thighs, trying to ground myself. “Thanks for saying that. And for…being there.”
He turned onto the gravel drive that led to the cabin. “You’re one of us now, Jada. And we look out for our own.”
I nodded, my throat too tight to say much more, as he put his vehicle in park and I got out. “Thanks, Lachlan.”
He tipped his head toward the cabin. “Get some rest. You’ve earned it. When will Hunter be back?”
“Tomorrow.” And I couldn’t wait.
As Lachlan’s department SUV rumbled back down the gravel drive, I stepped inside the cabin and shut the door behind me, leaning against it for just a second. The wood was warm from the afternoon sun.
I’d made it through the police interview. Hunter would be back by this time tomorrow, and we’d be able to go through all the stuff from my old life.
Who knew? Maybe if Kelly and Johnson had shown up after I looked through all that, I would’ve had more answers for them. But I doubted it.
“Okay, monsters,” I called gently. “I’m back.”
The kittens scrambled out from beneath the couch like furry missiles, tumbling over one another and meowing in excitement. I dropped to my knees, letting them crawl over me as I scratched their bellies and ears and kissed the top of Biscuits’ head.
“I missed you too,” I murmured.
I topped off their food and water bowls, straightened the litter box, and gave them a couple minutes to settle. Then I stood, brushing cat hair from my thighs.
I wanted to call Hunter. I wanted to tell him everything—how it went with Johnson and Kelly, what Lachlan had said, how I’d gotten through it without panicking or falling apart. I wanted to hear his voice. I knew he’d be proud of me.
But first, food.
I walked into the kitchen, yanked open the fridge, and pulled out the sandwich fixings. Mayo. Turkey. A tomato that looked just about to turn if I didn’t use it today. When Hunter got home tomorrow, I’d cook, but it wasn’t worth the effort for just me.
I’d just set the bread on the counter when the front door opened.
My heart leaped. He’d come home early!
“Hunter?”
But it wasn’t Hunter standing in the door. It was Johnson. And right behind him—Kelly.
I stared, confused. “Did you forget something at the sheriff’s office?”
“Yes,” Johnson said, shutting the door behind him with a quiet click. “We forgot to ask where the half a million dollars is.”
I blinked. “What?”
“The money,” Kelly added. “The five hundred grand Alan gave you.”
“I don’t—I have no idea what you’re talking about.” My pulse spiked. “Alan never gave me anything like that.”
Johnson’s expression hardened as he stalked forward. “I didn’t buy the memory thing. Thought it was bullshit. Maybe your little memory issue is real. Maybe it’s not. Either way, you’re going to tell us where that money is.”
“Wait—” I backed up, hands raised. “I’m telling the truth. I don’t remember anything like that. I don’t know about any money.”
He grabbed my arm. Hard. Fingers biting into the flesh above my elbow as he jerked me closer. “You sure about that?”
“Let go of me!”
Kelly stepped beside him, holding something small between his fingers. A glass vial. My stomach dropped. My eyes shot to the counter, where the antidote I’d been given was still sitting, unopened.
This wasn’t mine. They had their own. They knew all about the memory-loss drug.
Kelly smiled, calm and quiet. “We got this from Dr. Beckett. Thought it might come in handy.”
Johnson’s grip tightened. “We’re going to find out how real that memory loss is.”
I didn’t wait to see what they would do next—I jerked out of Johnson’s hold and ran.
But I didn’t make it two steps before Kelly caught me around the waist. His arm locked across my middle, dragging me back hard against his chest. I kicked, elbowed—landed a solid jab to his ribs—but it didn’t matter. He grunted and held on tighter.
“Feisty,” he muttered. “I like feisty.”
“Let go of me!”
“Sit her down,” Johnson ordered, already riffling through one of the kitchen drawers. He pulled out a notepad and a pen like this was just another day in the office.
Kelly shoved me into one of the dining chairs and held me there with a hand on my shoulder.
“Write a note,” Johnson said, slapping the pad and pen on the table in front of me. “Tell your boyfriend you’ve decided not to stay. Say it was all a mistake.”
I stared at him. “No.”
Wrong answer.
His backhand cracked across my cheek so fast I didn’t see it coming. My head snapped sideways. My eyes watered.
“Try again,” he said, voice cold.
I kept my mouth shut.
Kelly leaned in, his lips brushing my ear. “Don’t make this worse than it has to be.”
I shook my head, jaw clenched. Another hit. This one to the other cheek. I gasped and tasted blood. My lip split.
“I’m not writing that,” I rasped.
Johnson sighed like I was a headache he’d gotten used to. “Fine.”
He stepped over to the kittens’ corner. They’d hidden under the couch again, their tiny bodies trembling.
My stomach dropped.
“No,” I said again, voice cracking. “Don’t touch them.”
He crouched, reached under, and pulled out the smallest one—Sir Pounce.
“Last chance,” Johnson said, holding the kitten by the scruff with one hand and raising his boot with the other. “Write it. Or I stomp.”
Tears blurred my vision. “Please don’t?—”
“Write.”
I picked up the pen with a shaking hand.
Kelly stood over me. “Write this exactly: I couldn’t stay. I’ve decided this isn’t what I want. And sign your name.”
I wrote it. Every word felt like swallowing glass. My hand trembled so badly I could barely get the letters straight.
I stared at the signature when it was done. Jada . Was that what my signature even looked like? I’d been looking forward to matching it against my passport when Hunter got back.
Would Hunter believe the note when he saw it?
Why wouldn’t he?
When I made one last break for it—racing for the front door the second Johnson set Sir Pounce down—I almost made it.
Almost.
But Kelly caught me at the threshold. Something cold and wet pressed over my face, chemical and sickeningly sweet. I fought, arms flailing, trying not to breathe in whatever he was holding over my face, but finally, I couldn’t help myself.
Then everything tilted.
Darkened.
Vanished.