“No. She’s unharmed, but I had to arrest her on suspicion of murder. She really needs a lawyer. Like right now.”
Scott’s hand shook on the phone. Actually trembled. “I’ll be right there.” He dropped his jacket and slipped on his shoes, hurrying out of his bedroom.
“We’re in West Virginia.” The chief gave him an address. “DC is about two hours away.”
This made zero sense. He’d just seen Millie the day before. “I’ll leave right now.”
“Good. She said she didn’t want a lawyer, so she’s gonna be pissed I called you. Hurry.” The chief clicked off.
Scott’s brain reeled. Forcing himself to go cold, he whistled for the dog and jogged out to his Bentley Bentayga. The black vehicle ate distances when opened up. He let himself have a little luxury when it came to his vehicle.
“Let’s go, Roscoe.” He settled the dog in the back seat, jumped in, and drove out of the suburban area toward West Virginia, making a quick call to his office to reschedule everything he had that day. He drove faster than the speed limit, which he knew better than to do, but nobody stopped him. Soon he arrived in the small town of River City, his mind spinning. Who the heck would arrest Millicent Frost?
Large posters covered several storefronts advertising an upcoming Fishing Derby the following weekend, and the small town vibe confused him even more.
He pulled into the small parking lot of the River City Police Department. “I’ll be back in a moment.”
Roscoe, sprawled across the back seat, snuffled and gave him an encouraging nod.
“I’ll get her, Roscoe. She’ll be fine.” Scott had talked to the dog the entire way, trying to work out what had happened. He knew Roscoe didn’t understand, but still…
Scott jumped out of his vehicle and ran through the blustering wind to the front door. The building was a light red brick with gold lettering that said River City Police Department, and when he pushed open the glass door, a bell jingled. The waiting room was vacant of people but looked comfortable for a police station, with a leather sofa pushed against the far wall and three matching leather chairs next to it, all surrounding a table overflowing with fishing magazines.
An officer stood behind a reception desk dressed in a navy-blue uniform with a triangular patch on his arm reading River City Police. “Can I help you?” he asked. His shoulders were wide, his skin a burnished brown, and his eyes a sparkling black. He had to be in his forties, and his gaze was appraising.
“Hi, I’m Scott Terentson, and I’m here to see my client.” Scott removed his ID from his pocket.
“She’s back here,” a man called out, coming into view down a long hallway. He appeared to be in his sixties, with thick gray hair and faded blue eyes. A chief’s badge adorned his navy-blue uniform. “I’m Chief Wyatt. Lawrence Wyatt. Come on back. She’s waiting for you.”
Scott skirted the desk and kept his expression calm as he followed the chief past file cabinets and offices to reach two cells fronted by jail bars, the old-fashioned kind.
The chief paused. “Her bail transfer cleared, and we’re issuing her paperwork now.” His voice lowered. “The county prosecutor is headed this way, and he’s out for blood. Just so you know.” He unlocked and pulled open the barred door.
“Thanks,” Scott said, waiting until the chief had walked away. “Millie?”
She huddled beneath a thick blanket on a cot at the end of the cell, her back to the wall, her knees drawn up. She wore blue sweats with a matching top that were much too big for her, as were the white socks covering her feet. “Scott Terentson.” Her jaw dropped while those blue eyes raged. “What the blazes are you doing here?”
Chapter Three
Millie’s heart rate increased until her ribs hurt. Of all the people to witness her sitting sadly in a jail cell, she would’ve chosen Scott Terentson last. “I asked you a question.” Her voice shook from raw anger.
He scanned her, head to toe, leaving odd and irritating tingles in his wake. “Why are you in jail?”
Her breath heated. “Chief!” she bellowed. The man had left the door open and headed back to his office, out of her sight.
“You need a lawyer, Mills,” the chief yelled back, too cowardly to return.
“Are you okay?” Scott asked.
She gulped. “I’m just fine. Do not think of calling in Angus Force or any of his team.” She pressed her fingers to her forehead above both eyebrows and applied pressure. “Ugh. I have the worst headache.”
“I don’t like flying in the dark here, Millie. The chief said you were arrested on suspicion of homicide.” Scott’s tone exuded complete command, and his expression remained unyielding. “I’m not going anywhere, and if you don’t start talking to me, I will call in the entire Deep Ops team.”
As a threat, it was a good one. She didn’t like this uber-controlled side of Terentson. “Fine.” Maybe she could make use of his legal knowledge. The law had normally worked against her in the past, but he was an attorney, she needed one, and she could attest that he was ruthless. “I know. I mean, I guess I...I don’t know. This is crazy.”
He frowned. “What have you said to the authorities?”
“I haven’t said anything,” she said. “Well, I mean, except the truth.”
