As we entered, I saw her. Her mascara had smudged under her eyes, lipstick smeared below her lips, and her dress had a tear showing more skin than I thought anyone in that place deserved to see.
"One of you get her a sweatshirt or something. Her dress is ripped."
The cop smirked. "Maybe if you get on your knees and beg me properly."
My gaze heated, and the tenor of my voice dropped an octave. "Listen here, fuckhead. You are required to treat us with respect and dignity, and she's as innocent as the day is long. Get her something to wear, or my attorney will personally stick his shoe up your ass when he arrives."
"It's funny you think you can threaten me into getting what you want."
"Do. It. Now," I spit through clenched teeth.
Rolling his eyes, the officer called over to the cop dealing with Kinsley. "Hey, Derby! Find her a shirt."
Derby nodded before he and Kinsley disappeared down a hallway.
"Happy now, asshole?"
Once again, I remained silent. I hoped they would do it, but I'd follow through on my threat if they didn't. It wouldn't be the first time they'd been sanctioned for the way they treated me.
An anvil pounded at the back of my skull as I was left to sit in an interrogation room alone. They hadn't given me the chance to call my attorney yet, and I knew they didn't technically have to if they weren't questioning me. I could sit there for hours before someone felt benevolent enough to do their job.
Meanwhile, I brought Kinsley's face into my mind's eye. Our pleasant night out had turned into a disaster, precisely as I'd once feared would happen. The deeper Kinsley descended into my life, the worse off she was. My claws were embedded in her too deep for her to realize I would ruin her, but I didn't know if the terror I felt was aimed at her discovering it and leaving, or staying regardless of how bad it became.
36
Kinsley
Hours passed while I sat in the tiny room without a clock. It was an odd progression of time, one without the ticking of the second hand to guide me. The only reason I knew it was hours was that Officer Derby mentioned it to someone when they opened the door. As he told me more than once, I wasn't under arrest—but wasn't free to leave either—and was welcome to contact an attorney before speaking with them. Since I had no idea how to get in touch with Burke's attorney, I called the house and spoke to Noah, who assured me he would alert the appropriate people. I assumed that meant Logan and Caden, and that they would take care of everything.
After what felt like an interminable period of time, a man who appeared to be in his mid-sixties came into the room. "Mrs. Gallagher; Jasper Brown, your attorney." He sat across from me, opening an attaché case on the steel table and shuffling through a stack of papers.
I studied his wide, ruddy face, shocking white hair, and smooth, unhurried movements. "You can call me Kinsley."
The smile he offered was brief. "Have you given a statement?"
"No, they haven't questioned me."
He nodded while pulling specific papers from the stack and setting them aside. "Good, that's good."
I shifted, forgetting I remained in handcuffs and couldn't move far until the metallic clank reminded me. "However, I did admit to shooting a man in self-defense while we were at the crime scene."
Mr. Brown ran his first two fingers over his forehead. "I've asked them to remove your restraints. You aren't in trouble as far as I can tell, but someone is flexing their power because of your last name."
"I had a feeling that was the case."
The door opened again, and Officer Derby entered. "Chief said it was okay to remove the cuffs, Mrs. Gallagher."
I sat very still while he unlocked them, then rubbed the stiffness from my wrists.
"Officer Derby, we appreciate the sweatshirt you provided to my client, but Mrs. Gallagher has lacerations on her throat"—Brown leaned closer to squint at me—"and possibly her cheek, and she hasn't received medical treatment or waived that right."
"They're insignificant, and the blood is dried," Derby protested.
"Oh, so you're a physician capable of making that determination now?"
At the look on Derby's face, I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing. The cuts were actually superficial and no longer stung, and I'd never asked for medical care.
"I'll find someone," Derby grumbled.
