“I guess.” I didn’t know what else to say. “All right. I’ll see you tomorrow. If you decide that you don’t want to testify, just let me know. I’ll figure something out.” Then I retrieved my heavy bag from the floor and walked out into the warm night.
This totally sucked.
Swallowing, I drove back toward the main drag in town to my sister Tessa’s apartment and remembered at the last second that she wasn’t back home yet. So I flipped around toward an older part of town until I reached Donna’s adorable Craftsman house and parked in her driveway.
Her door was already open by the time I exited my car, and Tessa stood there in cute pajamas.
I smiled as I walked toward my sister, stopping at the porch. “When was Danny last in your apartment?”
She paused in smiling. “Besides the night he ended up dead?”
“Yeah,” I said softly.
“A couple of years ago when we were dating,” she said, her brow furrowing. “Why?”
I studied her, looking for any sign of deception. Instead, only curiosity met my gaze. I knew my sister, and I knew when she was lying. Right now, she was telling the truth.
That meant that Aiden had lied.
Chapter 32
When I strode into the courtroom the next morning, I nearly tripped over my borrowed black and gold Louboutin pumps when I saw Aiden in the last row. Furious, I stomped toward him.
He looked me up and down and let out a slow and very quiet whistle. “Wow.”
Yeah. The black suit was my serious one, considering it had gold hardware and a flirty slit to the side of the skirt. “You lied to me,” I whispered.
His gaze flared hot and bright. “I doubt that. Man, you’re beautiful when you’re angry.”
Oh, he was going to get punched. I paused in my thinking after remembering Krissy’s black eye. Physical violence didn’t solve anything. “I have to do this trial for your friend, and then you’re going to tell me what really happened the night Danny Pucci died. Got it?”
“I told you.” Aiden’s brows furrowed. “Why are you thinking I lied?”
I leaned in to keep our conversation private. “Because Danny left a print on the toilet somewhere. That means he either was in the apartment before that night, which he was not, or that he was there long enough to use the bathroom, which contradicts your story. I believe my sister. I do not believe you.”
Aiden cocked his head to the side. “Where was the print?”
“On the toilet,” I hissed.
His blink was somehow threatening. “Where on the toilet?”
“Why does that matter?” My voice rose, and I fought to quiet down again.
He leaned toward me until I could see the different flecks of blue in his eyes. “It matters because if the print was on the handle, obviously he’s been there lately. If the print was in the back, like he’d worked on the toilet at some point, it could be years old. So I suggest you ask your buddy Detective Pierce exactly where the print was found.”
“How do you know I got the information from Pierce?” I asked, wondering where the print had been found.
“Please.” Aiden sat back, his gaze still interested but now also pissed off.
I was just as ticked off. The last thing in the world I wanted to do right now was use my experience and brain to help Rich Pucci get out of breaking the law. “We are not done with this conversation.” Without waiting for an answer, I pivoted on the excellent heels and stormed up to my table.
Pucci was already seated in his spot. He had that bad boy thing going on today and would probably charm a couple of the jurors. “What’s your problem?”
“You are the exact wrong person to piss me off right now.” I unloaded my case files and trial notebook from my tote. “Believe me.” I turned to look at him.
He had long scratch marks down one side of his neck, and his bottom lip was a little bit swollen.
Good. He’d deserved it.
