“I thought it was David,” I said frankly.
Cooper’s eyes shifted between us. He turned off the recorder. “You two dating?”
“Olivia’s married,” David said.
“Fuck.” Cooper leaned back in his seat and rubbed his hands over his face. “You’re going to make this complicated, aren’t you, Dylan?”
“It’s not like that,” I said. “David’s part of a feature I’m spearheading for the magazine, so he and I have been working together.”
Cooper’s frown gave away his skepticism, but he pressedRecord.“Victim is referencing Lucas David Dylan, who goes by David. Go on, Olivia. Why would you think he’d come to the office at that time of night?”
“The magazine is featuring him as one of our most eligible bachelors of the year.”
Cooper rolled his eyeshard, and David flipped him off.
“David’s extremely busy and difficult to pin down—” Pin down, straddle, lower my face to his and stay just outside his reach as he tried to capture my lips with his . . .
I lost my breath at the fantasy—and my words.
Luckily, David picked up where I’d trailed off. “She asked me to come by when I had a few spare moments to go over things,” he said.
“And that’s what you did?” Cooper asked.
“Yes,” we answered in unison.
Cooper looked between us.
I didn’t want to lie and possibly muddle the details of the case against Mark, but I couldn’t exactly explain that we’d been arguing over the fact that a man I’d just met wanted me to choose him over my husband of years.
“Sounds like you knew who Mark Alvarez was,” Cooper said.
“He’s threatened her before,” David said.
Cooper raised his eyebrows as he took notes. “Did you file a report?”
“My husband didn’t think it was necessary.”
David’s chair creaked as he shifted.
“Tell me about that encounter.”
“I was walking home one evening—”
“When?”
I paused to calculate. “A few weeks ago. He stopped me outside my apartment building, looking for my husband. Bill was the prosecutor against Mark’s brother, Lou.”
Cooper nodded. “Got it. Bill Germaine? I’m not familiar.”
“Wilson.”
“Oh. Right.” Cooper looked up. “I know Bill.”
That was why the organized crime unit on Cooper’s card had stuck out to me the night before. Bill’s case had relied heavily on gang violence specialists. It was likely that he’d worked closely with CPD during the trial.
Whatever I said here today, and David, too, could potentially get back to Bill. “Can I, um, get some water?” I asked.
Cooper tossed his notepad down but left the recorder going as he rounded the desk and went to the door. “Sally,” he yelled across the office. “Water.”
