Chapter 28
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
HUNTER
I haven’t been arrested and taken in for questioning in over ten years. Last time, I was twenty-four, and it was a bar fight, with some mouthpiece from out of town who thought he could run his jaw about my family and walk out with his teeth still intact.
He couldn’t.
And now here I am. Sitting in a holding cell that smells like bleach, waiting to be brought in for questioning over the murder of a woman I didn’t kill. I’ve killed a lot of people in my life; it’s part of my job. But I did not kill Ashley.
I’ve got no reason to want Ashley dead. Hell, I wanted her to sober up, get her shit together, and be in Wyatt’s life. Not for me. For him. Because every kid deserves at least the chance to know their mother, even if she’s a mess.
An officer comes to get me. Cuffs click back around my wrists, and he leads me down a corridor and into the dingy room at the end. Single table. Two chairs on each side, and the kind of fluorescent lighting that makes everyone look guilty.
I glance up at the security feeds mounted in the corner. No red light. No blinking indicator.
They’re off.
Reese is already seated opposite Dawson, leaning back with his pen tapping a rhythm against the table. His suit jacket is off, and his sleeves are rolled. He looks like a different man in here, the version of himself he reserves for courtrooms and emergencies.
I’m led over and sit down beside him.
“Mr. Sterling,” Dawson greets me, and I can hear the strain in his voice. The discomfort of a man doing something he doesn’t want to do.
The officer who brought me here leaves, and the door clicks shut. I sigh and lean back in my chair. “I didn’t murder Ashley.”
Reese shoots me a look that could strip paint off a wall. Shut the fuck up.
Dawson wipes a hand across his forehead. He looks ten years older than he did an hour ago.
“Hunter. Look, this is out of my hands. They wanted to arrest you up in Red Creek. But I managed to take the case over, so it’s local.”
I nod.
Local means under Sterling protection. Local means the evidence gets handled by people I know, in a building I’ve walked through a hundred times, in front of a sheriff whose retirement fund has my name on it.
It means I have a shot of getting out of here.
“What evidence have they got?” I ask.
Reese clears his throat. He’s already got the file. “Circumstantial at best. You being at her house the night it happened, mainly. DNA is being tested on a cup left on the sink. Her boyfriend found her.”
I frown. “Yes. That was my coffee. Has he been arrested?”
Surely he’s the suspect. Not me.
“No. He has an alibi for her time of death; CCTV proves he was playing golf.” Reese taps his pen twice. “He didn’t do it.”
I blow out a breath that empties my lungs. “Alright. So who else could have killed her?”
Dawson shrugs. And the shrug tells me everything I need to know: he’s not looking. He’s not going to. “They want this pinned on you over there, Hunter. It’s an easy solve and makes them the heroes.”
I chew on my lip until I taste iron. “Right. So what do I do? I ain’t taking the fall for this shit. I didn’t kill her.”
Reese stops tapping and sets the pen down flat. “Let us use our resources to help you find the real killer,” he says. “We offer them the real murderer. Clear Hunter’s name.”
Dawson clears his throat. “I don’t have the resources to launch a full manhunt.”
I lean in closer. Close enough that he can see exactly what’s behind my eyes. “But I fuckin’ do, Dawson. I’ve got contacts around the world that can locate the fucker trying to set me up.”
His eyes go wide. “Set you up?”
I shrug. “Seems like it, don’t you think? Ashley had no reason to be murdered. Yeah, she was a drunk. But she didn’t cause anyone harm.”
Reese nods. “She was stabbed in her own home. Nothing was stolen. It wasn’t a random attack. It was planned.” He holds up two fingers. “Let us prove it. Ninety days.”
Dawson takes a shaky breath. His eyes move between us.
He’s nervous, and that ain’t good for me.
“If I agree to this, Hunter, you don’t leave New Falls.
Don’t step foot in Red Creek. Don’t breathe a fucking word of this.
” He holds my gaze. “Do your investigations quietly. Don’t cause me a scene.
If you can do that, I’ll get you that ninety days. I’ll keep them off your backs.”
I close my eyes.
This should be a relief. Ninety days. Time to find whoever did this and hand them over on a silver platter.
But it’s not a relief. Not really. Because even when I do hand them the real suspect, the truth remains that someone is out to get me. Someone planned this. Someone murdered the mother of my child and pointed the finger at me with enough precision to make it stick.
That war we’ve been anticipating might not be what we think.
Perhaps they play dirty.
We can play dirtier.
“And I mean it,” Dawson continues, and there’s a tremor in his voice he’s trying to hide. “If I find out you’ve left this town, for any reason, I will throw your ass in jail and send you over to Red Creek. Understood? Because you’ll need a fucking army to get you out of their holding cells.”
I arch a brow.
He knows exactly who he’s speaking to. And he knows damn well it’s my money that keeps his pockets fat enough to turn a blind eye when it matters.
But this is out of his jurisdiction. I’m lucky he stepped in at all.
So I’ll let him have this little power trip for now.
Go along with it. Nod when he needs me to nod.
Because I need my freedom.
My son just lost his mom.
He isn’t losing me.