They entered the interrogation room. After introducing the female officer, he gestured for her to sit.
“I want to make this easy on you, Ms. Reynolds. I believe you’re an innocent pawn in Mr. Luck’s scheme.”
She pursed her lips. Never before had she been on the receiving end of an interrogation. It sucked.
“Landing a wealthy, successful man like Dakota Luck is probably not a bad thing,” Beeker continued.
Are you kidding me?Providence wanted to roll her eyes, then walk.
“I know that going against his alibi won’t buy you any points with him. Look, while we’d be impressed if you two pulled an all-nighter at the club, we’re not buying it. No one is that virile.”
No one you know, maybe.She continued staring at him.
“Did you supply Mr. Luck with the rope used to bind Mr. Hastings?”
“No.”
“But you had access to the rope.”
She didn’t respond. It wasn’t a question.
“Do you have access to hemp rope at The Dungeon?”
“Yes.”
“Are you familiar with bondage?”
“No.”
“But you work in a kink club.”
She refused to respond.
“Did you attend the real estate awards banquet?”
“No.”But Elaine Jones did.
The officer played the video of the masked couple with Matt at the convention center bar.
“Isn’t that you with Mr. Luck?” Beeker asked.
“No, it’s not.”
“Do you go sailing?”
“No.”
The officer pulled up the video of the sailboat in front of the Sequoia restaurant the night of Matt Hastings’s death.
“But your dad owns a sailboat, doesn’t he?” Beeker asked.
Oh, crap.“He does.”
“And you’ve sailed with your family, haven’t you?”
“On occasion.”
“Can you sail, Ms. Reynolds?”
