Chapter 5
Lily
I’m shivering where I’m curled up at the end of the bench, leaning against the wall. Which is probably not helping my body temperature since the brick is freezing, but it’s the most comfortable position I could find.
I’m not even sure how long it’s been since they put me in here.
It could be an hour, or it could be multiple hours.
I really have no idea. But the longer I’m in here, the more my mind spins.
There are so many unknowns pressing into my chest like an anvil that taking deep breaths feels like I’m competing in an Olympic event.
The biggest unknown is whether I’ll walk out of here or if I’ll be transported to a cell that I can only imagine is much worse than this one.
Footsteps draw my attention as Detective Barrington stops at the door. “Your attorney has arrived, Mrs. Bennett.”
There’s an angry edge to his words that makes me nervous.
I stand and shake my legs, trying to restore some blood flow that had been restricted from the way I was sitting.
Once I feel like I can walk without falling, I join him at the door of the cell.
He opens it, and I step outside. I don’t want to get my hopes up that I’ll be leaving here today, but at least my attorney finally showed up.
My heart races as we walk to the same room I was in earlier.
Barrington opens the door and tips his head, indicating I should enter.
When I do, my breath catches in my throat.
The man standing on the other side of the room, his hand shoved into the pockets of his expensive dress slacks, is the sexiest man I’ve ever seen.
Not only is he handsome in a way that edges on a little too rough to be model handsome, but he clearly has money, and he wears it well.
Not like other men with money, including my late husband, who wear their wealth as a badge of honor, ensuring everyone they meet knows exactly how important they are.
But not this man. No, he wears it effortlessly. Like he couldn’t care less if people know he’s successful.
I take in his sandy light brown hair, which is shorter on the sides and longer on top, laying perfectly styled above his dark, assessing eyes as he studies me. He’s tall, maybe a few inches over six feet, with a build that’s muscular but not in an overly bulky way. It fits into his suit perfectly.
I swallow down my nervousness, which has nothing to do with the current predicament that’s prompted our meeting, before I blurt, “You’re a public defender?”
When his eyebrows jump in surprise, and his lips pull up in a little smirk, embarrassment heats my cheeks. And what comes out next doesn’t help my current state as I ramble on, “Sorry, I just meant…your suit. It looks expensive. I didn’t think public defenders made very much money.”
He frowns, and I fear I’ve deeply offended the man who’s now in charge of defending me for my life. I close my eyes and shake my head. When I open them again, I find him still watching me, his frown lessening.
I step toward him and hold out my hand. “Let’s try again. I’m Lily Bennett. Thank you so much for coming to help me, even though I know it’s your job.”
He takes my hand, and my stomach flips at the contact. His grip is firm, yet warm and comforting. “Chris Rivers. It’s nice to meet you, Lily.”
My heart returns to its accelerated pace when he uses my first name.
All day, people have called me by Blake’s last name, and hearing him not use it does something to me.
I take a moment to stare at the man in front of me.
I briefly wonder if the Chris Rivers I came across early in my search is the same one.
Assuming that there’s a possibility that there’s more than one attorney in town with the same name, as odd as that might be.
Or maybe it is the same one, and he changed focus to public defending.
When he releases my hand, I wave toward the table. “Should we have a seat?”
One side of his lips rises. “I think that’s my line.”
A nervous laugh bubbles out of me. “Sorry, I’m a little out of sorts, as I’m sure you can imagine.”
He nods as we take our seats. “I know this must be tough. I’m sure you’ve done this multiple times today, but I want to make sure I have all the information the cops do.
And I want to hear it from you.” He pulls a notebook and a pen out of his bag.
“Can you walk me through what happened?” His brow furrows slightly as he points to my face.
“If you can start with when that happened, I think that will be good. As I’m sure that is what the cops are hoping to use as a motive. ”
I nod. “From the comments they’ve made, I’d agree.
” I blow out a quick breath. “This happened two nights ago, but I’ll be honest, I don’t even know what Blake was mad about.
When he got home, I could tell he was agitated, but he never really opened up to me about what happened during his days.
And quite frankly, I never told him about mine. ”
Chris gives me an encouraging smile, and I continue.
“Anyway, we started arguing about something stupid, and it just escalated from there. I felt we needed some space after what happened, so I slept in the guest room the last couple of nights.” I swallow down the bile that rises in my throat, thinking about the last couple of days.
“Last night, we had dinner, and I went to bed last night around ten. Then I woke up and found Blake dead in the kitchen.”
Chris taps the pen on his notepad. “I’m sure the detectives asked you about the security system?”
“They did. Honestly, I was really bad about setting it. And since Blake usually stayed up later than I did, I generally didn’t bother even looking at it. So I have no idea if he armed it or not.”
“Were there cameras around the house?”
“Yeah, there are, but I wasn’t involved in the installation.
I think I have an email with the password to access the app on my phone, but I’m not even sure I’ve ever logged in.
Or if I did, it was a long time ago. I also think they were only on the outside.
I’m not aware of any inside the house.” I feel stupid admitting this now.
Why did I never ask about the security system of my own home?
“Did he ever have any late-night meetings?”
I shrug. “Yeah, sometimes, but I couldn’t tell you how often. As I said, I went to bed earlier than him, and he also didn’t keep me up to date on his schedule.”
He sits back in his chair, twirling his pen around his fingers as he thinks. “It’s certainly convenient for the detective to go after you. Wraps this up in a little bow, real quick and easy.”
“Yes. I watch true crime. I get it.” Unfortunately, I do know the statistics on that, and it scares me.
Chris stands up. “Alright, let’s get the detectives in here and get this over with. That way, we know our next steps.”
When he starts toward the door, I sit up straight and call out, “Mr. Rivers?” When he turns back and looks at me, I ask, “Don’t you need to know if I did it or not?”
A Cheshire grin takes over his face, and I’m momentarily speechless at how it transforms his face. “Please, call me Chris. It’s really better if I don’t know. Besides, my job is to defend you with everything I have, not judge you for what you may or may not have done.”
With a small smile, I relax into the chair, enjoying the unfamiliar comfort I’m feeling that I have Chris by my side.
Barrington and the older detective from earlier join us and take their seats at the table again, but this time I have Chris next to me.
The older detective looks at Chris with a confused expression on his wrinkled face. “Rivers, what the hell are you doing here? I thought you quit this shit.”
Not understanding what he’s talking about, I glance over at Chris.
Chris’s smile is brittle when he says, “Good to see you too, Wilcox. I was hoping everyone missed me.”
Barrington clears his throat. “Can we please move this along now that Rivers is here?”
“Please, my client and I would love that.”
The detectives share a look before leveling their stares back on me. Barrington takes the lead. “Alright, Mrs. Bennett. You’ve told us about last night. And explained your injuries were from two days ago?”
My heart pounds harder. “Yes, that’s correct.”
Barrington taps his pen on the notepad a few times. “And how would you describe your and your husband’s relationship?”
I swallow, unsure of how they will interpret the state of our marriage. “It certainly wasn’t great. I’ve wanted to leave for years.”
Wilcox pipes in. “And why didn’t you? Scared you would have to give up the money?”
I square my shoulders, refusing to let them shame me for something I’m not.
“While Blake had more money when we first got married, I’ve done alright for myself over the years.
I’m the President of Burke Marketing. I make more than enough money to support myself and have invested wisely over the years. ”
Barrington smiles, but it looks as fake as the admiration he’s forcing. “That’s impressive, Mrs. Bennett. You seem like a woman who likes to be in charge.”
My eyes narrow as I try to figure out what he’s getting at.
“It must have pissed you off to get beaten up by your husband.”
I can’t hold back my exasperation. “I think we covered this earlier when you insinuated as much. No one, man or woman, likes to be abused, Detective.”
“Of course not, Mrs. Bennett,” Wilcox says, giving me a smile. Clearly, he’s playing good cop. “We just want to make sure we understand what happened. So if it wasn’t about the money, why didn’t you leave long before now?”
I take a deep breath and glance over at Chris.
He nods his encouragement, and I push down the uneasiness spinning in my gut, knowing what I’m about to say won’t look good for me.
“Last time I tried to leave, I ended up in the hospital. I told them I tripped down the stairs. But that isn’t what happened. ”
Wilcox leans forward. “I’m sure you probably wanted to make sure that didn’t happen again, right?”
“Detective, do you have any proof my client did what you’re accusing her of?” Chris’s tone is sharp, and I’m glad I’m not on the receiving end of it.
Barrington ignores him and keeps his gaze on me. “We could understand why this would be self-defense. You just have to tell us where the murder weapon is.”
Chris scoffs. “Do you actually have any evidence? Or is this just based on you not wanting to take the time to look anywhere else besides the most convenient place?”
Wilcox and Barrington exchange another look. Barrington seems furious, and Wilcox seems resigned. Barrington finally responds, “We’re still looking for evidence.”
Chris reaches down, grabs his bag, and grips my elbow as he stands, dragging me along with him. Even through layers of clothing, my skin feels charged from his touch.
“Just as I thought. I’m taking my client home. Let us know when you have actual evidence of her supposed crime.”
He gently clasps my elbow until we get to the door. His grip loosens until he moves his hand to my lower back, and he pulls open the door. Signaling me into the hall ahead of him, he calls over his shoulder, “Gentlemen, it’s been less than lovely. Happy to be back with you again.”
We’re silent as we walk outside. I hadn’t even realized that it had turned to night until that moment. The cool air brings goosebumps to my skin as we cross into the parking lot.
Needing to get his attention, I say his name, “Chris.”
He stops and looks at me.
“Thank you for getting them to let me go. If we want to exchange contact information right now, I can get a taxi or something home.”
Chris scowls, and there’s no denying this is just as sexy on him as his cocky grin. “You can’t go home, Lily. It’s still an active crime scene and probably will be for a few days at least. Do you have a family member or a friend that you can stay with tonight?”
There’s a relief that I don’t have to go back to the house tonight, cascading with the dejection that I really don’t have anywhere to go. I don’t really want to bother Anna or my boss, Cheryl, even though I do consider them both my friends. I definitely need to be alone tonight.
I hike my purse higher up on my shoulder. “I didn’t think about that. I can just get a hotel room.”
Staring at me for a minute, he gives me a curt nod. “Alright, let’s go. Do you have a preference for where?”
I tell him the name of one of the nicer hotels on West End Avenue.
He gestures to a car parked behind him. “I’m parked over here.”
I want to push back. I want to insist that he doesn’t have to, but the strength I was forcing earlier starts to fade. “Thank you for driving me. I appreciate it.”
He gives me another definitive nod before leading me to his shiny, dark-colored, high-end sedan.
I don’t know a lot about cars, but if I had to guess, this one probably costs six figures.
Gently helping me into the passenger seat, he shuts the door.
I watch him circle the car and climb in next to me.
His cologne invades my nostrils, and the crisp, masculine scent disorients me for a moment before his deep voice grounds me. “Buckle your seatbelt, Lily.”
My stomach flips at his demand, leaving me confused. For many years, I assumed my libido was gone. But my defense attorney is proving that undeniably incorrect.