“I just basically said stay away from us.” I played down my threats towards the guy. I actually threatened to beat the living shit out of him because he was recording our personal conversations, and I thought he deserved to have the shit kickedout of him. But I had no intention of telling Magone that. As far as I was aware, Adina Boleyn was the only witness who saw me threaten him.
“Did you see Conrad Milton speak to Theo Abbott as well?” Huh, this was a question that came out of left field.
“No,” I replied, frowning.
“Conrad Milton is your roommate at the Lud frat house, is he not?” he asked, already knowing my answer as my nerves prickled along the back of my neck. Was it Conrad who snitched on me?
“Yes,” I replied as nerves twisted in my stomach.
“And he’s also a teammate of your brother’s?” he pressed, and I wondered where this line of questioning was going.
“Yes.”
“Have you ever seen Conrad Milton speaking to a Melrose Governor?” he inquired.
“What the fuck? Ah, Governor? Wait. As in Nicolae’s coach?” My head was spinning like a hamster in a wheel. This definitely was not the direction I expected his questions to go.
“His daughter. The coach’s daughter?” he asked.
“Not that I noticed.”
“So, you’ve never seen Melrose come over to your frat house?” he persisted, and internally, I was freaking out about the gun we stole from Adina. Fuck, what a mess. This detective had a shitload of dirt on us, and all it took was a couple of good witnesses to lie or exaggerate, and we were screwed.
“I mean, she’s come over a couple of times, but lots of chicks have. We have parties now and again, and it’s like an open-door policy, you know. We don’t take much notice of who comes and goes,” I tried to explain, but the look on his face seemed dissatisfied with my reply.
“I understand,” he said, then reached for the photograph of Theo Abbott and began folding it back up again and slid it in hispocket. He then leaned forward, announced the interview had ended, and swiped off his phone.
“Wait. Are you done?” I asked in disbelief.
“Yes, we’re done,” he assured me and stood to leave as I stayed sitting on the couch, flabbergasted by the abrupt end and the strange direction the line of questioning went.
As he opened the door, he looked back and said, “We may need to speak to you in the future once we’ve made an arrest.”
“Arrest? So, you know who killed him?” I pressed, wondering if he was creating a false flag, so I relaxed, and then he’d arrest me. I bet these fuckers have been dying to imprison Nicolae and me since they arrived here. Chuck us in with our father to keep us out of the way, that’s what they want.
“Have a great day, Mr. Warwick,” was all he said, and then he was gone, and I was left hanging.
