GENEVIEVE #2
My spine prickled. That was why I was here, right? Because he knew this necklace had belonged to Mom and he’d brought me in for questioning. Did that mean he knew I’d been in that cabin?
Or was this a tactic, keeping me waiting in this room for an hour before coming in to deliver short, leading questions that would trap me in a corner? I rewound our conversation, replaying my every word and measuring them carefully.
If Marcus hadn’t known this necklace was Mom’s, I’d told him.
Marcus Wagner was no friend. The chief wasn’t on my side.
Which meant I was done talking.
Almost.
“How did you know it was my mom’s?”
He held my stare, hesitating to answer. It was like he was assessing me, like he knew I’d just pegged him as the enemy. “A picture in the paper.”
Fuck. One of the pictures Bryce had printed in today’s paper had been a photo of Mom wearing this necklace.
I was here because Marcus had a new lead on that cabin fire. He sure had acted fast. The paper wasn’t even twenty-four-hours old.
Someone had planted that necklace. Someone who’d wanted to blame that fire and murder on me. It was probably the same man who’d killed my mother and kidnapped me and Bryce.
The same person or persons who’d killed Dad.
The Warriors.
“According to your credit card records, you were in Montana the day that cabin burned down. You flew into Bozeman the night before.”
The air left my lungs. I nodded.
“Why?”
I took a sip of water from the Dixie cup. Was it telling that I needed water? Did only guilty people drink from those little paper cups? I choked the water down. “I came to see Mom’s grave. I hadn’t been here yet.”
“And did you?”
No. I’d been taken and shoved in the back of a trunk.
But I couldn’t tell Marcus about the kidnapping. There was a reason I hadn’t gone to the police, and that reason was my husband.
“Genevieve?” Marcus prompted when I didn’t answer.
“Am I being charged?”
His mouth set in a firm line. Even the mustache couldn’t hide his irritation. “No.”
“Then I’d like to go.” I shoved my chair back and stood. “I’m not comfortable talking without my lawyer present.”
My guess was I’d be back in that chair in a day or two as the primary suspect in an arson and murder investigation.
Law school would have to wait.
My troubles were far from over.
Marcus stood too, picking up the necklace. The bag returned to his pocket as he opened the door, waving me into the hall.
The walk through the bullpen was silent other than our footsteps. Every desk was empty, just like it had been when I’d arrived. The only other person here was the officer stationed up front.
“Quiet day. Do you work on Sundays?” Wasn’t that something the chief of police got to avoid?
“Normally, no. But today’s the exception.”
Spotting that photo had been a surprise to him too.
Marcus reached the door that opened to the exit. He held it open for me, nodding his goodbye.
Then I was free. I could walk right out the front door. So why did I feel like this was all a trick? I was sure at any moment that the chief would summon me back and tell me I’d never be free again.
I quickened my steps, pushing through the exterior door and into the bright sunshine. The moment my eyes adjusted to the light, I spotted the one person I needed most.
“You’re here.” I rushed into Isaiah’s arms.
“Been here since the minute I got off the phone with Jim.” He pointed down the sidewalk where Jim was standing, talking on his phone.
He saw me and held up a finger.
I breathed in Isaiah’s smell. He’d been standing in the sun, wearing black. There was a hint of sweat beneath the clean-fabric scent of his T-shirt. One inhale and my heart rate slowed.
“You okay?” he asked.
I shook my head. “Not really.”
Jim came rushing over and pulled me from Isaiah’s arms, giving me a hug of his own. “What happened?”
“Honestly?” I cast a glance at the station. “I’m not sure. Something is off.”
An eerie feeling crawled up my skin. The hair on the nape of my neck stood on end, like someone was watching me. I let Isaiah go and glanced around the parking lot. There was my car, Jim’s SUV and Isaiah’s bike; otherwise it was empty save for a few police cars.
But the niggling sensation wouldn’t go away.
I was missing something. We all were and had been for months.
“What?” Isaiah asked. “What is it?”
“I don’t know,” I muttered.
“Did they charge you? Question you?” Jim asked.
I nodded. “No, and yes. I answered a few but then I refused to continue unless you were present.”
“Good,” he said. “Next time, don’t go at all.”
“Sorry. I was curious and wasn’t thinking.”
“Let’s go to the firm and talk it through,” Jim said.
“Can we do it tomorrow morning? I’m . . . my brain is fried and I’m an emotional wreck.” And before I talked about anything with Jim, I wanted to discuss it with Isaiah.
“Okay,” Jim agreed. “But first thing tomorrow morning.”
“Eight o’clock.”
“Get some rest.” He squeezed my arm, nodded to Isaiah and walked to his car.
I wasn’t sure what was bothering me, but I wasn’t going to figure it out in the parking lot of the police station. So I took Isaiah’s hand and whispered, “Let’s get out of here.”