Chapter 10
Olivia was jerked abruptly from a very pleasant dream by an insistent pounding on her front door. She reached out and fumbled for her phone, which was sitting on the nightstand. It was barely seven thirty in the morning. She grimaced and hauled herself out of bed.
She pulled on her thick robe, and stomped angrily down the stairs, her thick socks absorbing some of the noise. Why the hell couldn’t everyone leave her alone? A quick glance through the peephole had a flush of irritation surging through her veins.
Muttering to herself, she swung the door open and, with her hands on her hips, glared at the woman standing on her doorstep.
“Do you people actually have any real work to do or is this how you treat all new residents of Mercy?” she ground out between clenched teeth.
“Ma’am.” Deputy Helga Hanson nodded, her expression neutral. “Chief Walcott asked if you’d be so good as to come down to the station and answer a few questions.”
Olivia appraised the tall, athletic-looking woman in front of her. “What the hell does he want this time? I’ve already answered all his questions regarding Adam Miller, and I explained what happened with the guy who collapsed in front of my car. There really isn’t anything else I can add.”
“It has nothing to do with those two incidents.”
“Then what?”
“I’m afraid I’m not at liberty to discuss that.”
“And this couldn’t have waited until a civilized hour?” Olivia said coolly.
“I’m afraid not, ma’am. Chief says to bring you in ASAP.”
“Am I under arrest?”
“No, ma’am.” She shook her head. “Chief just has some questions, and they are time sensitive.”
“Fine,” Olivia hissed.
She stepped back into the house, coming to a halt as the deputy made a move to follow her. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“I’m under orders, ma’am, to make sure you don’t run off.”
“Run off?” Olivia’s eyes flashed dangerously. “Run off? Are you fucking kidding me?”
“Ma’am, there’s no need for that kind of language.”
“Get the hell off my doorstep, Deputy Hanson.”
“Now, ma’am,” the deputy began.
“Don’t ‘ma’am’ me.” Olivia took a step forward, forcing the deputy to back up onto the porch.
“I’ve had about all the disrespect and unfounded accusations I’m going to take from the Mercy Police Department.
I’ve bent over backward to accommodate your investigation despite being treated like a criminal simply because my father is one.
I’ve done nothing to deserve the appalling treatment I’ve received from your chief of police.
But make no mistake, you will not step one foot inside my home without a warrant, or I will sue your goddamn department for harassment. Do I make myself clear?”
“Crystal,” Deputy Hanson replied as she studied Olivia.
“Good. Now, I’m going to get dressed, and when I’ve at least had a cup of fucking coffee, I’ll drive myself to the police station and answer Chief Walcott’s questions since I’ve absolutely nothing to hide.” Olivia marched back into her house, grasping the door. “Now get the hell off my property.”
She slammed the door in the deputy’s face and sagged against it, trying to drag some air into her suddenly constricted lungs.
Her body shook with fury. With the chief so fixated on her, she was sure he was missing vital evidence that would lead to the actual murderer.
It was time to do something about it. Picking up the phone with trembling fingers, she dialed the number she’d memorized the night before.
“Hello,” a sleepy voice mumbled.
“Erica?”
“Yes?”
“It’s Olivia West.” She blew out a shaky breath. “I think I might need your help.”
“What’s happened?” Erica’s voice sharpened at the other end of the line.
“Nothing yet, but Deputy Hanson turned up on my doorstep ten minutes ago, insisting that I go in for questioning.”
“About what? Adam Miller? Do you think they found something in your car?”
“They couldn’t have, there’s nothing in my car to find,” Olivia answered. “Besides, Deputy Hanson said it had nothing to do with either Adam or the incident with my car the other night.”
“But she wouldn’t tell you what it was about?”
“No,” Olivia confirmed. “She said I wasn’t under arrest, but I don’t trust them.”
“Okay, hang on a minute.” The line went quiet for a few moments, although Olivia could hear mumbling voices in the background. “Olivia?” Erica’s voice was calm, but it held an underlying urgency.
“Yes?”
“Jake is going to call the station and see if he can find out what’s going on,” Erica replied.
“Jake’s with you?”
“Yes. Now listen, you don’t have to actually go in for questioning if you don’t want to.”
“I know.” Olivia sighed wearily. “But whatever they think I did this time, it will only look worse for me if I don’t go. It’ll look like I’m trying to hide something.”
“Okay, then,” Erica answered. “I’ll meet you there.”
* * *
A short while later, Olivia casually walked down her porch steps, a travel mug of coffee in one hand as she slipped her sunglasses on with the other.
She had a monstrous headache brewing. Having already swallowed a couple of Advil, she sighed and headed toward her car, pointedly ignoring the deputy propped against her squad car, who watched Olivia with an inscrutable look.
With a great deal of self-restraint she bit back the ridiculous urge to either flip her off or hurl her coffee at the intrusive deputy.
Instead, she got into the car and started down her drive, not at all surprised when the deputy pulled out after her and followed her into town.
Paying particular attention to her speed and driving, Olivia tried to ignore the unease that prickled between her shoulder blades.
She wouldn’t put it past Mercy’s finest to get her on a traffic violation if they thought they could get away with it.
Given that she felt particularly ornery today, she decided to forgo the assigned bays outside the police station in favor of parking along Main Street.
Stepping out of her car she strolled down the sidewalk, and stopped by the bakery to pick up a bagel and more coffee for her breakfast. Although it felt like she was swallowing lead, she forced it down and headed toward the police station.
Pushing open the clear glass doors, she felt every person in the room study her. She took a deep breath, straightened her spine and headed for the front desk. A middle-aged woman in a peach twin set and perfectly coiffed hair peered over her glasses as Olivia stopped in front of her.
“I’m Olivia West,” she stated in a clear voice. “I believe Chief Walcott is expecting me.”
“Cam,” the woman called over her shoulder. “Ms. West is here.”
A tall, well-built deputy, freshly shaved and with neat blond hair, appeared from the back.
There was a hint of familiarity about him, and it only took a moment before Olivia recognized him as the deputy who had knocked on her window the day she’d sat outside of town, wondering if she should continue her drive in.
“Deputy.” She nodded.
She studied his face as he stopped in front of her. His blue eyes burned with barely suppressed hostility, and his jaw clenched reflexively, as if he were trying to stop himself from saying something.
“Follow me,” he said from between gritted teeth. Then he turned his back on her and marched toward the back of the station.
Rounding the desk, she followed him through a maze of desks and filing cabinets.
People stopped working as she passed, either watching her openly or whispering behind hands.
She tried to shake off the unease and hold her head high, after all, she hadn’t actually done anything wrong.
No matter how they tried to bully her, there was really nothing they could actually do.
The deputy led her down a quiet corridor into a small room.
A mirrored window adorned the wall to her left, the other walls were a plain, utilitarian gray.
A metal table sat in the middle of the room with chairs either side.
Olivia sat down in one of the chairs, quietly hanging her jacket over the back of her seat.
The room they’d put her in was hot and uncomfortable. Instead of questioning her out in the office, they had put her in one of the interrogation rooms like a suspect. They really weren’t subtle, she thought scornfully.
The deputy left the room, closing the door behind him with a chillingly quiet click. Olivia found herself hoping that Erica would hurry up. She could certainly use some backup in the form of an attorney right about now.
They left her sweating in the tiny room. Pulling at the neck of her soft chenille sweater, she shifted uncomfortably. God, she wished they’d turn down the damn heat. It was like sitting in an oven.
Olivia shifted in her seat, regretting the coffee she’d had before she’d come in. She’d need the bathroom before long if they didn’t get a move on. She wasn’t stupid; she knew these delay tactics were a subtle attempt to get under her skin and make her nervous.
Frustrated, she pulled a hair band from her pocket and scooped her hair off her damp neck and into a messy knot on the top of her head, then pushed her sleeves up her arms. She rummaged in her pocket and came up with a tube of cherry lip gloss.
Leaning back in her chair, she casually glanced over at the mirror, which she assumed was two-way glass.
She lazily applied her lip gloss and pressed her lips together, slowly she blew a kiss to the cops she knew were on the other side of the mirror and tossed them a wink.
That must have annoyed them because the door opened minutes later, and Chief Walcott entered with a file in hand. The deputy who had shown her to the room earlier and another one, shorter and older than the first, came in behind him and stood on opposite sides of the door.
Walcott sat down in front of her and studied her silently.
“Aren’t there Geneva Convention laws against this kind of thing?” She raised a brow.
“What sort of thing?” he asked.