She had a monstrous headache brewing. Having already swallowed a couple of Advil, she sighed and headed toward her car, pointedly ignoring the deputy propped against her squad car, who watched Olivia with an inscrutable look.
With a great deal of self-restraint she bit back the ridiculous urge to either flip her off or hurl her coffee at the intrusive deputy. Instead, she got into the car and started down her drive, not at all surprised when the deputy pulled out after her and followed her into town. Paying particular attention to her speed and driving, Olivia tried to ignore the unease that prickled between her shoulder blades. She wouldn’t put it past Mercy’s finest to get her on a traffic violation if they thought they could get away with it.
Given that she felt particularly ornery today, she decided to forgo the assigned bays outside the police station in favor of parking along Main Street. Stepping out of her car she strolled down the sidewalk, and stopped by the bakery to pick up a bagel and more coffee for her breakfast. Although it felt like she was swallowing lead, she forced it down and headed toward the police station.
Pushing open the clear glass doors, she felt every person in the room study her. She took a deep breath, straightened her spine and headed for the front desk. A middle-aged woman in a peach twin set and perfectly coiffed hair peered over her glasses as Olivia stopped in front of her.
“I’m Olivia West,” she stated in a clear voice. “I believe Chief Walcott is expecting me.”
“Cam,” the woman called over her shoulder. “Ms. West is here.”
A tall, well-built deputy, freshly shaved and with neat blond hair, appeared from the back. There was a hint of familiarity about him, and it only took a moment before Olivia recognized him as the deputy who had knocked on her window the day she’d sat outside of town, wondering if she should continue her drive in.
“Deputy.” She nodded.
She studied his face as he stopped in front of her. His blue eyes burned with barely suppressed hostility, and his jaw clenched reflexively, as if he were trying to stop himself from saying something.
“Follow me,” he said from between gritted teeth. Then he turned his back on her and marched toward the back of the station.
Rounding the desk, she followed him through a maze of desks and filing cabinets. People stopped working as she passed, either watching her openly or whispering behind hands. She tried to shake off the unease and hold her head high, after all, she hadn’t actually done anything wrong. No matter how they tried to bully her, there was really nothing they could actually do.
The deputy led her down a quiet corridor into a small room. A mirrored window adorned the wall to her left, the other walls were a plain, utilitarian gray. A metal table sat in the middle of the room with chairs either side. Olivia sat down in one of the chairs, quietly hanging her jacket over the back of her seat.
The room they’d put her in was hot and uncomfortable. Instead of questioning her out in the office, they had put her in one of the interrogation rooms like a suspect. They really weren’t subtle, she thought scornfully.
The deputy left the room, closing the door behind him with a chillingly quiet click. Olivia found herself hoping that Erica would hurry up. She could certainly use some backup in the form of an attorney right about now.
They left her sweating in the tiny room. Pulling at the neck of her soft chenille sweater, she shifted uncomfortably. God, she wished they’d turn down the damn heat. It was like sitting in an oven.
Olivia shifted in her seat, regretting the coffee she’d had before she’d come in. She’d need the bathroom before long if they didn’t get a move on. She wasn’t stupid; she knew these delay tactics were a subtle attempt to get under her skin and make her nervous.
Frustrated, she pulled a hair band from her pocket and scooped her hair off her damp neck and into a messy knot on the top of her head, then pushed her sleeves up her arms. She rummaged in her pocket and came up with a tube of cherry lip gloss. Leaning back in her chair, she casually glanced over at the mirror, which she assumed was two-way glass. She lazily applied her lip gloss and pressed her lips together, slowly she blew a kiss to the cops she knew were on the other side of the mirror and tossed them a wink.
That must have annoyed them because the door opened minutes later, and Chief Walcott entered with a file in hand. The deputy who had shown her to the room earlier and another one, shorter and older than the first, came in behind him and stood on opposite sides of the door.
Walcott sat down in front of her and studied her silently.
“Aren’t there Geneva Convention laws against this kind of thing?” She raised a brow.
“What sort of thing?” he asked.
“The heat? Are you hoping to sweat some sort of confession out of me?”
“Nothing of the sort, Ms. West,” he replied coolly in return. “We simply did not want you to get cold. After all, we are coming into winter, and Massachusetts can be very cold at this time of year.”
“You’re too considerate,” she answered dryly.
“Ms. West, where is Brody Walker?”
“Who?” She tried to place the name.
“Brody Walker. He came to your home late yesterday afternoon.”
“The auto guy?” She frowned, casting her mind back. “The one who dropped my car off?”
“That’s correct.”
“How the hell should I know?” She shrugged. “He dropped my car off and left. Why?”
