“I need to get the dogs’ food.”
“Tonight, then.” He continued to rub her back. “We’ll figure this out.”
She wanted to believe him; she did. But it was hard to imagine someone killing anyone for her. Because of her.
Bree picked at the skin around her nail, pacing in the small conference room. She knew enough to look for the small camera in the corner, close to the ceiling, when they’d been escorted in. No stereotypical one-way mirror, but they didn’t need it when whoever was watching had live video.
The door opened, and Detective Johnson entered. “Thank you for coming in again, Brianna. We just have a few questions.” He sat on the far side of the table.
“I’m not sure why my client needed to be here again. She’s as much a victim in these killings as the women being attacked,” her lawyer said.
Bree pulled out the chair next to him. “Mr. Dell, please don’t compare a few notes to these women being murdered. It’s inappropriate.”
Mr. Dell tried for a stern look. “Bree—”
“Don’t. I’m here to help and answer any questions I can. This has to stop,” she said. She looked at the detective. “What do you need to know?”
“Do you know this woman?” He slid a photo across the table.
Using a finger, she slid it closer. She shook her head. “No. She doesn’t seem familiar at all.” She slid the photo back across the table. “How is she doing?”
“She made it through surgery. She’s in ICU. The doctors said if she makes it through the next couple of days, she should recover.”
Bree nodded and looked at her lawyer. “You’ll make sure everything is taken care of.”
“Bree—”
“Make sure she’s taken care of.” She tapped her finger on top of the table.
Her lawyer exhaled a heavy sigh.
“That’s very generous of you,” the detective said.
She gave him her attention. “No. It’s not. These women are being attacked — being killed — due in some part to me. So making sure this girl and her family don’t have to worry about anything while she recovers is not generous.”
She held Detective Johnson’s gaze. He had to understand. No one else could die because some whack-a-doodle had fixated on her. “What else do you need from me?”
“When was the last time you had contact with Chad?”
“A few weeks ago. He came to my house and we got into an argument.”
He wrote some notes on the pad in front of him. “What was the argument about?”
“He accused me of ruining his life because I wouldn’t marry him.” She rubbed the middle of her forehead with two fingers. God, she was tired.
“How did the argument end?”
She braced her elbows on the table and gripped the back of her neck with both hands. “Jase threw him out.”
“Jase is Jason Larken? Officer Larken’s brother?”
“Yes.”
“How long have you known Mr. Larken?” he asked.
“Five or six weeks, I guess.” She sat back in the hard-backed chair.
He nodded and wrote more notes. “When did you meet?”
