Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 87015 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 435(@200wpm)___ 348(@250wpm)___ 290(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87015 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 435(@200wpm)___ 348(@250wpm)___ 290(@300wpm)
“Is hookups a better word?” The detective moved the binder and placed my phone on the table between us. Oh shit. I gulped audibly even before he asked, “Who were you taking all the selfies for, Danny?”
Crap. Crap. Apparently, my attempts at clearing my gallery had been shit. I should have expected this.
“I…uh…me. I take them to make myself feel better.” I couldn’t look at the detective. Or Cash. Instead, I stared at my hands on the scarred table. “I don’t share them.”
“And yet they backed up to your less-than-secure cloud storage. Clearly, you wanted to save them for some reason.”
“Sorry. I…technology isn’t really my strong suit. The pictures make me feel less lonely. That’s all.” I bit my lower lip hard. Next to me, Cash tapped my chair with his foot, but I ignored it. Feeling foolish and small, I couldn’t risk glancing at him. If I saw pity in his intense eyes, I wasn’t sure I could bear it.
“So you’d say you were lonely?” Continuing to hold my phone, the detective leaned forward. “Missing attention?”
“Danny.” Cash nudged me again, voice low and firm. “Remember what he said about how you can have your lawyer here?”
“That’s probably not necessary, right, Danny?” Detective McIntyre sat up straighter, bushy eyebrows drawing closer together. “This is just a friendly chat. I’m only trying to iron out the facts. Your pictures are simply one piece of a complicated puzzle we’re trying to solve.”
He sounded nice enough, but something about his tone put me on edge. I finally did glance over at Cash, who was frowning. He caught my gaze, shaking his head subtly. That was enough for me. I hated the idea of needing a lawyer with every fiber of my being, but if Cash thought that was what I should do, I trusted him. My initial impulse was to continue to defend myself and my pictures, but for once in my life, I wanted to be smart. Measured.
“I…I didn’t do anything wrong.” I blew out a harsh breath. “But I want a lawyer if you’re going to keep asking me stuff about my pictures.”
“All right. Have it your way.” Apparently, I’d said the magic words because the detective was already collecting his things, including my phone. He stood, ushering us out of the room. “Tomorrow, then? I do have some more questions for you.”
I nodded and swallowed hard again. Now I would have to call the lawyer—who probably hoped she’d seen the last of me and my drama—and beg for someone to help me quickly. I hated this. My stomach churned all the way through the building, bile burning the back of my throat, but I stayed quiet until we were back in the car.
“He thinks I did it. He thinks I’m making it all up.” Turning toward Cash, I reached for his hand before he could start the Jeep.
“I know you’re not.” Cash, bless him, took my hand and squeezed it, following the gesture with a warm touch on my neck, loosening the tight muscles there. He didn’t seem to care that we were in a city parking garage where anyone could walk by. “And I think there may have genuinely been a suspect in the lineups, but the detective is trying to see what charges they can make stick based on the evidence they have. And trying to pin it on you is an angle a defense attorney may try, so the investigators need to rule that out here at the outset.”
“Maybe.” I didn’t know if I agreed, but I was too defeated to argue. I leaned into his touch. “Take me home.”
“Your place?” He frowned. “Duncan said the security work is completed now, and I can call him for access codes, but if you’d feel more comfortable at his place…”
“I wouldn’t,” I said quickly. I hated the idea of going back to that house where someone had violated my privacy, where no amount of new fancy security features would settle my nerves, but if we went to Duncan’s place, no way was I getting one more night with Cash. And that was what I needed most of all. Just him. I couldn’t let go, not yet.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Cash
Danny wanted to go home. And I was going to make that happen for him. He’d been through enough that day. The detective’s demeanor had put me on edge from the moment he’d greeted us, but I’d tried to let Danny control the situation until it became clear that protecting him meant speaking up and preventing the detective from nailing his ass to the wall with leading questions.
Fuck. The situation was quickly turning into a clusterfuck, and I wished I could take Danny back to the cabin, get away from both potential dangers and accusations he didn’t need. His stalker was still out there. I felt it in my bones. But Danny needed confidence from me right then, not a list of my own worries.