Chapter 9
CHAPTER NINE
How the police station managed to feel both cold and stifling at the same time was almost impressive.
However, Roma sincerely felt that she would be much happier never being impressed again if it meant never having to spend another second inside that place.
This time, she had been seated in the slightly nicer interview room.
She hated the fact that she had been there enough times to distinguish between the rooms, and everyone there had been much kinder to her than they had been before.
I guess that’s the benefit of being viewed as a victim rather than a suspect.
She glared at the junior officer who had been assigned to sit with her while the detective was out talking to David, who had ridden in on his white horse to save the day again.
She’d seen the way a few female officers on the scene had looked at him, and she couldn’t deny that he was an admirable knight in shining armor, but she would bet none of those women would be quite so starry-eyed if they knew why she had dumped him.
Not that she wanted the police to dislike or distrust her lawyer…
Oh God, he’s my lawyer again.
Muffled voices seeped through the door, and Roma strained to listen as she sipped the tepid coffee that had been brought to her more than an hour ago, making a face at the bitter taste and marveling at just how bad a cup of coffee could be.
“And you’re sure that she doesn’t want to go to the hospital?” Detective Isaac asked.
“Certain,” David replied. "Even though it’s probably the better idea, she was checked out by the paramedics at the scene. The only actual injuries she has are from when she took a nose dive when your team stormed the place.”
Roma glared at the door as she willed the people beyond it to start speaking again.
“Does your client know how lucky she is?” Detective Isaac asked, speaking in an odd tone that Roma was sure she hadn’t heard him use before.
“I’m sure she does,” David said. “And if at all possible, I’d love for her to feel even luckier?—”
“No,” Detective Isaac interjected. “She needs to answer a few questions while it’s fresh in her mind.”
Roma only realized she had actually stood up and crossed the room to listen at the door when she was startled by the thought that the two men might catch her.
She knew she wouldn’t make it back to her seat, so instead, she turned and began pacing, trying to look like she hadn’t just been pressed up against the door like some eavesdropping cartoon.
“Ms. Townsend,” Detective Isaac said as he entered. “Can we get you anything?”
“Uh, my freedom to leave and a bodyguard?”
With a snort of amusement, David followed the officer into the room and shot her a look that said, “Shut up and behave, but also stop being funny; you’re supposed to be the victim here.” Overwhelming all that silent dialogue was a mixture of intoxicating smells—coffee, bacon, and…something else.
“Here,” David said. “I brought you coffee to try and balance out the drain cleaner they serve here.”
“Why do police stations have the worst coffee?” she asked, half-joking but genuinely curious as well.
“With the amount we drink, we can’t afford the good stuff,” Detective Isaac said.
She shot him a dirty look, and he smiled apologetically, which was even more irritating than his being nice to her. But she couldn’t stay annoyed for long because her stomach growled, and both men looked down at her belly.
“Here,” David said, holding out a paper bag.
“Oh my God, where did you get a Grilled CheeSant?” she asked, pulling out the flaky pastry, bacon, and grilled cheese sandwich and sitting down at the interview table to eat.
“After it became clear that you wouldn’t be allowed to go home before being interrogated about your highly traumatic experience, I paid a very confused barista to make you one,” David replied without even glancing at the detective. However, Roma saw his mouth twitch.
She couldn’t help the way she looked lovingly from the sandwich to David. “I know you didn’t convince Deja Brew to wedge bacon and cheese into a croissant and jam it into a sandwich press.”
“I don’t know where that is, but the café about a hundred yards down the road thinks I’m annoying and overly funded.”
“You are annoying and overly funded,” she mumbled, croissant flakes falling and landing in the folds of her shirt.
The detective held up his hand like a referee. “All right. Let’s just get on with this, shall we? The sooner we start, the sooner you can go home to bed.”
She cleared her throat and settled down as David took the seat next to her.
The detective fiddled with the recording device on the table. “Let’s start at the beginning.”
“Well, I was down by the dock; I needed to get some things for work…” She trailed off as she wondered what had happened to her bags, what Cynthia thought was going on when she hadn’t returned to the office, and if she still had a job.
“Ms. Townsend?”
“Sorry,” she said, startling herself. “I, um, saw Nate on the street, we spoke briefly, and then I got into a taxi to go back to the office.”
After an hour or so of going back and forth with the detective, David jumping in at various times to redirect the questions, Detective Isaac finally took pity on her.
He sent her home in a patrol car with David, who assured her it would be parked outside just in case she needed backup.
Roma walked inside, only to be greeted by two loudly meowing cats.
“Oh, babies, I’m sorry. Are you hungry?” she cooed, enjoying how both of them wound around her legs even if she felt like she might trip and fall at any moment.
“You’re apologizing to the cats for being held hostage?” David asked.
She had almost forgotten he was there, and she jumped slightly before laughing and nodding. “They don’t know the difference between me not feeding them because I got hit by a bus or because I don’t love them—they just know I haven’t fed them.”
He watched quietly as she poured kibble into their bowls and pulled out her phone to message Cynthia.
It was past seven in the morning, and her boss was probably already awake.
Texting was more difficult than she had expected.
She hadn’t stayed up all night in a long time, and being awake for twenty-six hours had worn her down.
From Roma: Hi Cynthia, sorry but I won’t be in today. Not feeling great. Ask Nate for details. I’ll be asleep. Sorry.
Blinking, she turned to face David. “So, where are you staying?”
“Well, luckily, my sister owns a house on the island, so I kind of hope I can sleep in her spare room.”
She smiled before realizing. “But I live in your sister’s house.”
He laughed, crossed the kitchen, and hugged her. “Yes, you do. I’ll go to a hotel tomorrow, or…later today, I guess. But for right now, I’ll be upstairs.”
Good, she thought; she didn’t really want to be alone in the house anyway.
After assuring him that she was fine, Roma was left alone in the kitchen to decide whether she should bother walking all the way upstairs or just crash on the couch. With only the cats noisily eating in the corner, she was alone in the quiet for the first time since all this started.
A shiver ran over her skin as a sickly-sweet smell reached her nose, and she turned, searching for its source.
Was something off in her refrigerator? Sniffing, she followed the trail around the central counter to the side of the kitchen, where her eyes landed on the fruit bowl.
Three shiny, red apples that she had bought at the market two days ago sat on top.
Grimacing, she tentatively picked them up and threw them in the trash.