Page 6 of Bastard In A Suit, Vol. 3

“Sure, in the movies,” Forrest scoffs.

I reach across the desk and place my hand over his. “Nobody wants to think the worst here.”

“But you do, don’t you?” His eyes darken with accusation. “You weren’t there, Hailey. You didn’t see him. He’s a mess, a wreck.” Forrest runs his hand through his disheveled mop of hair and he sighs. “Jake asked about you. I didn’t know what to say…”

I think about where I actually was and more guilt shoots through my veins. I’m basically mainlining it at this point. “We had a plan, Forrest. You should have waited.”

“And let an innocent man rot there by himself?” He shakes his head. “How would you feel if the tables were turned?”

My heart feels like it’s splitting in two. His belief in Jake is so strong. And of course, it would be. Forrest doesn’t know what I know, hasn’t seen what I’ve seen. “There’s evidence…”

Forrest snarls. “The police don’t have shit.” He pushes off the edge of the desk and begins to pace the room. Sweat beads on forehead. The dark circles around his eyes look almost black, hollow. My stomach clenches at how obviously he wants me to be wrong and I want to throw up.

“Mr. Kingston didn’t bury the MicroTracker,” I say, slowly blowing out a breath. I must craft my next words carefully—drive the point home, without tipping off where I spent the night. Electricity crackles along my spine as I remember Duke’s lips pressed against my neck. That’s not information I want Forrest to have access to, not now. He’s already shaken enough. “I know he said he was going to shelve the product—and he is. But as of last night, he hadn’t taken the device offline and…”

Forrest stops pacing. “Spit it out, Hailey.”

My jaw tenses. “According to the software, Jake was the last person to use the tracking device—which he used to follow Marissa.” I swallow. “To Navy Pier.”

He whirls on me. “That doesn’t mean anything.”

My jaw slackens. Truth is, the more pieces that fall into place, the less convinced I am of Jake’s innocence and that stings. “I want to be wrong, Forrest. I hope I am, but…”

“Show me the evidence,” he snaps.

“Mr. Kingston had to turn over everything to the police.”

Forrest’s voice booms. “You went to the cops?” His hands ball into fists at his sides. “Jesus, Hailey. You didn’t even talk to me about this.”

I struggle not to cry. “We didn’t have a choice, Forrest. Duke—Mr. Kingston—owns the product. He made the decision, but for what it’s worth, it was the right thing to do.” I blink, holding my eyes closed for a beat. “I know you’re emotional, but you’ll see. It was the only choice.”

“When did he call the police?”

“What?”

Forrest points aggressively at the door. “You were supposed to meet me first. So when did you see this so-called evidence? And why only you? Shouldn’t Mr. Kingston have called me too?”

“That’s not important,” I stammer. I inhale a shaky breath, steadying myself as I try to steer the conversation away from where Forrest is going with it.

“How do we know Mr. Kingston didn’t plant that evidence?”

“Oh my god, are you serious?” The look on his face tells me he is. “Why would he do that?”

Forrest shrugs. “It’s the only thing that makes sense, Hailey. I don’t care what the police think they have. Jake is innocent. I feel it.”

“We can’t afford to be naïve,” I say. Tears well up and I blink to stop them. One leaks out anyway and trails down my cheek. I can’t take this. I need fresh air, a drink, something. “You’re not rational right now, and I get it, but we have to think this through.”

“Why are you being such a bitch?” Forrest says.

The tone of his voice guts me. My shoulders sag. “If I’m wrong, you can both cut me loose. You’ll never have to see me again.” The words weigh heavy against my chest. I gather my things and walk toward the door, stopping briefly to look back. “Instinct tells me I’m right. I’m sorry.”

Forrest averts his gaze. “Then I guess we just wait for the cops to sort it out?”

He can’t even look at me, and that stings more than anything else.

“Sure,” I say, swallowing. “I really do hope I’m wrong.”

He stuffs his hands in his pocket. “Me too.”

With nothing left to say, I leave—unsure where to go. My office? I make my way toward the elevator, eyes trained to the floor. Someone calls out my name. I turn to witness Duke striding toward me, with an intensity that speeds up my pulse. Everything looks in place—shirt tucked, tie perfectly knotted, shoes spit shined—but he’s disheveled somehow. As though someone’s gotten under his skin.

He runs his hand through his hair. “Jesus. I’ve been looking all over for you.”

My stomach does a flip.

He cocks his head. “I’ve had the worst afternoon. Need a drink as badly as I do?”

I blow out a deep breath. “I thought you’d never ask.”