“I’m John Wells, Miss Foster’s solicitor,” he replies, his navy blue eyes fixing on me through his rectangular, black-rimmed glasses. “She’s done talking to you.”
The officer stiffens. “We’re simply having a conversation. Miss Foster isn’t under arrest.”
John stares her down. “And your conversation is over.” His gaze cuts to me. “Not another word, Miss Foster.” He gives Officer Singh a dismissive wave. “I’d like to be alone with my client.”
My head spins. I’ve never even heard of this man, and I have no idea how he knows about me.
But he’s offering me a reprieve from police questioning, so I’ll take it.
“Yes,” I assert. “I need to talk to Mr. Wells, please.”
“You are welcome to sit in and offer advice,” Officer Singh begins. “But I want to?—”
“What you want doesn’t matter.” He cuts her off in clipped tones. “Miss Foster has rights, and, as you said, she’s not under arrest. Give us the room.”
She scowls at him but stands. She stalks toward the penthouse door in stiff strides, visibly bristling at the dismissal.
Mr. Wells waits for her to exit into the corridor before he sits in her vacated seat and turns his attention on me once again.
“What did you tell her?” he demands with professional authority.
I straighten my shoulders and counter coolly, “I have a few questions for you first. Who sent you to represent me? How do you even know about me?”
“Lord Graham keeps my firm on retainer,” he explains. “My colleague should be arriving at the police station now to prevent Daniel from saying anything incriminating.”
It’s too late for that.Dane already admitted to the cops that he killed Stephen.
I choose not to tell the lawyer. That’s a mess for his colleague to sort out.
“So, Dane’s father sent you,” I say. “How did you find out about this? I’m sure Dane didn’t ask his family for help.”
The last time he saw them, he’d shouted that he hated them. Of course, they wouldn’t send help because they care about him; this is all about appearances and their family name.
Mr. Wells blinks, as though he’s surprised that I’m not thanking him profusely for coming to my aid.
“Lord Graham has connections in law enforcement. The chief constable phoned him personally to tell him that his son had been arrested. I’m here to clear up the situation.”
I press my lips together for a moment, considering.
“Everything I tell you is confidential?” I ask.
“Yes,” he confirms.
“There’s nothing to clear up,” I confess. “Dane already admitted that he’s guilty when the cops came to arrest me.”
The lawyer sucks in a sharp breath. Then he clears his throat, professional mask back in place. “I’m sure my colleague can handle him. As long as you didn’t say anything else incriminating to the police?”
“I don’t think anyone canhandleDane,” I reply. “Especially not anyone sent by his father.”
Mr. Wells’ bushy brows draw together. “Lord Graham hired my firm to protect his family. Estranged or not, Daniel is a Graham.”
My fingers knot in my lap. Dane will hate this.
But if the lawyers can spare him from prison, isn’t that what I want?
“I didn’t tell the police anything,” I say quietly.
Even in my distress when I’d learned what he did for me, I’d known deep down that I wouldn’t betray him.
