He sits back in his chair, twirling his pen around his fingers as he thinks. “It’s certainly convenient for the detective to go after you. Wraps this up in a little bow, real quick and easy.”
“Yes. I watch true crime. I get it.” Unfortunately, I do know the statistics on that, and it scares me.
Chris stands up. “Alright, let’s get the detectives in here and get this over with. That way, we know our next steps.”
When he starts toward the door, I sit up straight and call out, “Mr. Rivers?” When he turns back and looks at me, I ask, “Don’t you need to know if I did it or not?”
A Cheshire grin takes over his face, and I’m momentarily speechless at how it transforms his face. “Please, call me Chris. It’s really better if I don’t know. Besides, my job is to defend you with everything I have, not judge you for what you may or may not have done.”
With a small smile, I relax into the chair, enjoying the unfamiliar comfort I’m feeling that I have Chris by my side.
Barrington and the older detective from earlier join us and take their seats at the table again, but this time I have Chris next to me.
The older detective looks at Chris with a confused expression on his wrinkled face. “Rivers, what the hell are you doing here? I thought you quit this shit.”
Not understanding what he’s talking about, I glance over at Chris.
Chris’s smile is brittle when he says, “Good to see you too, Wilcox. I was hoping everyone missed me.”
Barrington clears his throat. “Can we please move this along now that Rivers is here?”
“Please, my client and I would love that.”
The detectives share a look before leveling their staresback on me. Barrington takes the lead. “Alright, Mrs. Bennett. You’ve told us about last night. And explained your injuries were from two days ago?”
My heart pounds harder. “Yes, that’s correct.”
Barrington taps his pen on the notepad a few times. “And how would you describe your and your husband’s relationship?”
I swallow, unsure of how they will interpret the state of our marriage. “It certainly wasn’t great. I’ve wanted to leave for years.”
Wilcox pipes in. “And why didn’t you? Scared you would have to give up the money?”
I square my shoulders, refusing to let them shame me for something I’m not. “While Blake had more money when we first got married, I’ve done alright for myself over the years. I’m the President of Burke Marketing. I make more than enough money to support myself and have invested wisely over the years.”
Barrington smiles, but it looks as fake as the admiration he’s forcing. “That’s impressive, Mrs. Bennett. You seem like a woman who likes to be in charge.”
My eyes narrow as I try to figure out what he’s getting at.
“It must have pissed you off to get beaten up by your husband.”
I can’t hold back my exasperation. “I think we covered this earlier when you insinuated as much. No one, man or woman, likes to be abused, Detective.”
“Of course not, Mrs. Bennett,” Wilcox says, giving me a smile. Clearly, he’s playing good cop. “We just want to make sure we understand what happened. So if it wasn’t about the money, why didn’t you leave long before now?”
I take a deep breath and glance over at Chris. He nodshis encouragement, and I push down the uneasiness spinning in my gut, knowing what I’m about to say won’t look good for me. “Last time I tried to leave, I ended up in the hospital. I told them I tripped down the stairs. But that isn’t what happened.”
Wilcox leans forward. “I’m sure you probably wanted to make sure that didn’t happen again, right?”
“Detective, do you have any proof my client did what you’re accusing her of?” Chris’s tone is sharp, and I’m glad I’m not on the receiving end of it.
Barrington ignores him and keeps his gaze on me. “We could understand why this would be self-defense. You just have to tell us where the murder weapon is.”
Chris scoffs. “Do you actually have any evidence? Or is this just based on you not wanting to take the time to look anywhere else besides the most convenient place?”
Wilcox and Barrington exchange another look. Barrington seems furious, and Wilcox seems resigned. Barrington finally responds, “We’re still looking for evidence.”
Chris reaches down, grabs his bag, and grips my elbow as he stands, dragging me along with him. Even through layers of clothing, my skin feels charged from his touch.
