Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 95676 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 478(@200wpm)___ 383(@250wpm)___ 319(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95676 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 478(@200wpm)___ 383(@250wpm)___ 319(@300wpm)
"I didn't do this," I say for the millionth time, cracking my eyes open to look at him. I can't take anymore. I just can't. "I know you don't believe me, and nothing I say in this room or in any other is going to change your mind. I understand that, sir. You have a job to do, and I'm guessing you're pretty good at it or you wouldn't be here now. But I'm not the person you're looking for. I didn't know this kid, and I certainly never stole money from him or told him to kill himself. I never even met him!"
Detective Ventura stares at me for a long, silent moment, and then he reaches into his folder again. He slides another picture across to me. "Are you sure about that, Miss Kendall?"
I glance down at the picture and then blink and look closer. It's a photo of me on stage at Antonio's bar the last time I played there a few months ago. Erin sits to the left of the stage with Antonio. At the table beside them sits Rory Clark and a couple I recognize from photos in his dorm room, his roommate Tyler and Tyler's girlfriend, Jessica.
"You want to tell me the truth now?" Ventura asks.
I shake my head, my gaze locked on that photo. "I don't remember him," I mumble, shell-shocked. I've seen picture after picture of him in the last couple of weeks, and nothing about him is familiar. But he was there at that show, sitting right up front.
Detective Ventura sighs, clearly out of patience.
"I'm telling you the truth," I say, though I'm certain he doesn't believe me. Why should he? Rory was photographed at my show months ago, and that's all the proof this detective needs of my guilt. Nothing I say now is going to change his mind.
He eyes me for long moments, not speaking. "Did you know Detective Lewis is one of the best investigators we have? The way his mind works is fascinating." He shakes his head like he's impressed. "He's brilliant when it comes to reading people. Everyone knows it. If we can't get someone to talk, we bring him in. Given enough time, he can get anyone to talk to him."
I open my mouth and then close it again, uneasy at the sudden shift in conversation.
"From what I hear, Rory Clark was brilliant, too. The kid was going places." He drums his fingers against the tabletop, eyeing me. "What is it about you that turns intelligent men like that into fools, Miss Kendall?"
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"No?" He cocks his head to the side and studies me for a moment. "You're an enchantress, Miss Kendall. You lure them in, take what you want, and then you ruin them. First, the Clark kid. Now Lewis."
"W-what are you talking about?" I ask, my unease growing the longer he talks about Cam and my relationship with him.
"You really don't know, do you?" Ventura asks, disbelief in his tone.
"Know what?"
"Right after I brought you in here, Detective Lewis relinquished his badge and his service weapon."
"What? Why?"
"He's being suspended because of his relationship with you. Unless he's really lucky, he'll be fired. Because there's something about you that had him thinking with his dick instead of his head." He reaches into his folder and pulls out several more photographs. They're all of me and Cam. The first one is of me and him embracing on campus. He's got his hand on my ass while he kisses me. Our faces are hidden from the camera, but it's clearly us. The second is of the two of us entering his hotel together, his arm around my waist. There's another shot of us at dinner, cuddled up in the booth, both of us smiling. The last is the worst. It's a security photo from his hotel. We're in the elevator, my hand in his pants while he has his head thrown back against the wall, a look of intense pleasure on his face.
"H-how―?"
"How did we get these?" he asks and waits for me to nod before answering. "We've had a guy following you since you ran off to Los Angeles, keeping tabs on you in case you did something stupid and tried to flee the country. It took him all of ten minutes to get these photos."
"We didn't…I mean, he didn't do anything wrong," I mumble, tears welling in my eyes. "H-he told me…"
He lied to me, I think as I stare blindly at the pictures in front of me. I can't even blame him though, can I? Because I let him lie to me. I knew what we were doing was wrong, but I slept with him anyway. Because I wanted him enough to convince myself that everything would work out just fine and he wouldn't be hurt. And now, just like I feared, I'm dragging him down with me. He could be fired because of me.