“If she wants a call, we will arrange it.”
“Does she need a solicitor?”
“It probably wouldn’t hurt to think about that. She’s asked for a solicitor, so one will be provided for her tonight.” He turned and walked away.
When he reached the door, Sloan said, “Detective Saint?”
He turned back towards her. “Yes.”
“Can you tell her I’m here?”
“I’ll see what I can do, but right now, she’s in a heap of trouble. She needs to focus on that.”
Sloan nodded but said nothing further.
Chapter fifty-seven
Sloan appeared in the lounge doorway, pinched face, eyes shiny.
“What’s happened?” Gloria asked with an urgency her body couldn’t match. She wanted to get up, to go to Sloan and hold her, but her body wouldn’t give her that.
Sloan came into the room and dropped down onto the sofa. “I still don’t know. They wouldn’t tell me anything.”
“But she’s alright?”
Sloan shrugged. “I don’t know.”
“This is ridiculous. She’s not the sort to hurt anyone. Why would they arrest her?”
Sloan sat forward, elbows pressed into her knees, hands clasped together. “They asked me about her flatmates.”
“That nice young man down the pub?” Gloria almost smirked, remembering her own escape. “Brandon? He was very friendly.”
“He smoked weed,” Sloan said, indignant.
“So?” Gloria frowned. “It’s just a little herb.”
“It’s drugs, Mum. You know how I feel about them.”
“It’s not the same thing,” Gloria said as though she were the world’s expert on things.
“I think it is,” Sloan countered. “Not because I’m trying to be righteous.” She rubbed her thumb over her knuckles, hard enough to sting. “Because it’s ahorrible risk. It’s people you love who get caught in the fallout. And I can’t afford that in this house. Not with you.”
“Your cousin’s death was caused by a cocktail of heroin and speed. After a decade-long addiction and many other issues, weed didn’t kill him.”
“And what would you know about it?”
Now Gloria smirked. “Oh, you thought me and your dad were too good to be true? It was the 70s. We had our fun before you three came along.”
Sloan’s eyes widened at the confession. “You took drugs?”
“We smoked some weed, drank some wine, made a little love.” She sang the last part, enjoying the way it made Sloan uncomfortable. “Shocked you, have I?”
“A little, yes. More so, Dad. He just never… He was a bit stuffy.” Sloan laughed at the thought of it.
“He got stuffy when you three came along and he needed to step up and provide.”
Sloan nodded.
