Rain spattered the windshield. “Wait… they don’t know?”
“Of course, they don’t know! You think I want my children to see their mother sent to prison for arson? I told them I didn’t recognize the woman’s voice on that recording, but if you insist on spreading all these wild conspiracy theories, convincing the police that some psycho is out to kill me just so you have an excuse to keep the kids away from me, I’m going to get Guy involved and then I’m calling your sister.”
“You wouldn’t.”
“Watch me.” Silence fell like a hammer, the windshield wipers making angry passes back and forth. “I’m serious, Finlay. Back off and stay the hell off my property. As soon as the dust settles on this mess, I want my weekends with Zach and Delia back.”
“But Steven, it’s not—”
Click.
I tossed the cell phone in the cupholder. The van had grown uncomfortably warm, and I dragged the wig from my head. My wetshoes stuck to the blisters on my feet. I was drenched through my clothes, and all I wanted was to go home.
The van rattled in protest as I put it in gear and nosed out of my hiding space behind the maintenance truck. My headlights cut a swath through the heavy mist as I navigated toward the only open gate to the street. As I rounded the building, I slammed on my brakes. Blue lights flickered through the steady slap of my windshield wipers. Two cruisers blocked the exit in front of me, their doors thrown open, officers kneeling behind them with their weapons drawn.
Nick stood behind them, squinting at my windshield, a radio clutched to his lips, the hard lines of his face captured in the glare of my headlights.
“Turn off your engine and step out of the vehicle with your hands up.”
CHAPTER 32
Nick escorted me into the station himself, his grip firm on my arm as he guided me through a side door and deposited me into an interrogation room.
“Do you want me to call Georgia?” he asked as he unfastened my cuffs.
“No. Please,” I added, rubbing my wrists as he folded the cuffs into the pocket of his jacket. He pulled out a chair and directed me to sit, his eyes raking over my drenched overcoat and heels. My reflection was jarring in the dark mirror on the wall, my wet hair plastered to my forehead and long smears of mascara streaking from my eyes. “Not Georgia.”
“Do you have someone you can call?” A muscle worked in his jaw. “An attorney?”
“Do I need one?”
Nick’s lips thinned as he handed me his phone and turned away. Arms folded, he leaned against the two-way mirror. My heart stuttered when I thought of my children waking up in the morning without me.
I dialed Julian’s number. Part of me hoped he wouldn’t answer. The other part of me nearly cried out with relief when he did. Glasses clinked over the loud hum of conversation in the background.
“Hello?” Julian asked cautiously, as if he recognized the number. He and Nick had spoken before, when Nick had been questioning witnesses during the Mickler investigation at The Lush.
“Hey, it’s Finlay,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. A long beat of silence followed. The background noise of the bar hushed to a soft murmur before falling away, as if he’d stepped outside.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m okay.”
“Where are you?”
My eyes lifted to Nick’s. He pushed off the wall, his movements stiff as he left the room, the door swinging closed behind him.
“I need a favor,” I said, my throat thick. “I’m at the police station. I need a lawyer. I didn’t know who else to call.” I couldn’t face my sister. Not yet.
“Are you alone?”
“Yes.”
“What happened?” Julian’s voice was tense.
“I can’t really talk about it right now.”
“Finlay, I haven’t even finished law school. I can’t represent you.”
