“How well did you know Will Barbour?” Detective Lincoln asks, sitting opposite me behind his sterile desk, only a Styrofoam cup of coffee and his computer monitor, off to the side, between us.
I don’t hesitate, even though my mind is spinning like a roller coaster going off the track. “Not well.” The truth. Nolan always told me never to offer more than necessary, and he’d kill me right now if he knew I agreed to casual sunrise questioning without a lawyer present. But I didn’t have time to get one of those. Faust’s coach was warning him we’d be brought in.The three of us.
Neither of us have seen Sylvan so I don’t know if he got the memo.
An hour of stress later, I got the call to come down. So did Faust. We both acted shocked, surprised, and still tired, despite the fact we’d been up too long at that point, silently worrying.
Faust offered to drive me back to my place so I could change, but I decided to wear his sweats, shirt, and hoodie, all hidden underneath my long coat. I did my skincare routine with hisproducts, put my hair up in a poofy bun, and let myself look exactly how I feel: Tired and disoriented.
Sitting across from the detective in Drayton’s police station that Faust drove us both too—no use pretending we don’t know each other now—I start to sweat under my coat. But I don’t need the officer to see I’m drowning in Faust Darling’s clothes.
Lincoln stares at me. He has a shaved head, a beard, and eyes the color of grass. He could be thirty, he could be forty-five. Honestly, I can’t tell. Maybe it’s the stress of the last few weeks working Drayton’s case.
He’s wearing plainclothes, a white button down, no tie, and his hands are on the desk between us, as if he’s trying to show me he comes in peace.
There’s a yellow wedding band on his ring finger.
His nails are neat and trim.
Overall, he seems good with people. That means he could definitely get me to slip up if I’m not careful. No, I didn’t murder Will or Jackson and I have no idea who did, but that’s not really the point of these “casual questionings,” is it? He wants to see what else I’ll add, what I’m not saying, how I act.
The fact I’m innocent isn’t really going to add to my scorecard here, because everyone he brings in is under suspicion, even if not officially.
Briefly, I wonder how Faust is faring.
“Can you elaborate on that?” Lincoln smiles, and it actually meets his eyes. We both know the game we’re playing here.
“Sure.” My heart is hammering so hard inside my chest, I think I might pass out, but remarkably, my voice stays steady and calm. I chalk it up to refusing his offer of caffeine, and the oddly incredible sleep I had last night.
I glance down at the desk as if I’m thinking. Even an innocent party would do that, instead of reciting facts like they’ve memorized them.
“We met a few weeks ago. We… spent a night together.” My cheeks heat and I don’t mind. If I seem sheepish about telling a police officer I hooked up with a guy I barely knew, maybe that makes me fit a murderer’s profile less.
I raise my eyes to Lincoln. He makes no judgment in his expression, warm and open, but I’m sure the wheels are turning inside that shaved head of his.
“I didn’t speak to him again after that until…” I trail off, and part of it is acting but part of it is that I need to get my anxiety under control before I burst into tears. Maybe itwouldhave been better if I was hungover. My mind wouldn’t dive so deep into the spiral of everything that could happen to me if I fuck this up, not least of all Nolan Devine having a stroke as he yells at me through the phone. “Last week.”
Lincoln nods. “Did you two spend the night together again?” There’s a slight smile pulling at the edge of his lips, but he isn’t mocking me. He’s pretending he’s kind.
I shake my head. “No.” I can’t lie about Will coming to my apartment, or Sylvan for that matter. I need to talk to Mr. Bennet. There could be cameras outside of the building. Then they’d know when both entered, and while I don’t think there’s footage inside the store, or my floor, it’s best to keep everything as honest as possible so I don’t have to remember what I said later. “He came to my place?—”
“Had you previously given him your address?”
I bite the inside of my cheek. Then give the truth as I wonder about the anonymous texts right beforehand. “No.”
“So how did he know where you lived?”
Jackson had been to my place once, only stood outside the door while I stalked in to grab a heavier coat one night before we went to a party. The last we’d wind up at together. The one at Will’s house.
“Jackson must have told him.”Or whoever was texting me did.But I don’t bring it up. I hate to admit why, but Sylvan’s duplicity keeps playing around inside my head.
Lincoln frowns. And I have to admit, it seems odd to me, too. Why would Jackson give Will something specific like that? Although he could’ve mentioned Midnight Blackwell’s, and that’s easy to remember. But who the hell told Jackson that I’d slept with Will, since the last time I saw him, he was extremely surprisedIhadn’t? The fact investigators haven’t discovered Will’s phone is odd.
But Lincoln isn’t asking about phones, so I don’t mention it.
“That seems strange, doesn’t it?” he presses. Not overbearing or forceful but casually confused.
Makes two of us, buddy.
