Page 55 of Hard Heart

Sykes was both dangerous and safe. Dangerous because he could ruin me—my reputation, my sanity, and possibly my heart. Safe because nothing could ever happen between us. I was free to feel whatever I wanted, secure in the knowledge that he’d never tear off my knickers with his teeth.

He stretched lazily in his seat, chains jingling, his orange uniform tightening across hard muscles, and I realised from his posture that he’d moved his feet in my direction. A smile played across his lips, as if to say, “Your move, darling.”

Fuck.

He knew, didn’t he?

He knew what he did to me.

“Go ahead,” he said, and I wasn’t sure what he was giving permission for. A question? Or for me to slip off a shoe and slide my foot up his leg?

I opted for the former. “You mentioned Ruby visited the bathroom after the two of you had sex on the afternoon of her murder. Did she take a shower?”

“Probably. She usually did.”

“Was her hair wet when you checked in on her?”

“No, but she had one of those cap things. She didn’t wash it every day because it took too long to dry. My defence attorney asked the same thing, but he didn’t mention it in court because he said it could work against me.”

True, but it also made Ruby a blank canvas.

“A detective who worked on the case paid me a visit. She basically said they’d done enough forensic testing to get a conviction and nothing more.”

“She? The detective in charge was male.”

“Her partner, I think. He’s in the hospital with a gunshot wound.”

“An occupational hazard. Forgive me if I don’t show much sympathy—he was an asshole. Kept asking the same questions over and over, trying to browbeat me into a confession.”

“Was your attorney present?”

“Yes. He did more talking than me.”

Good because that had been his job. Bad because if Sykes was questioned without a lawyer present, we could have raised the violation in an actual innocence petition, if we got that far.

“Do you recall discussing the murder scene itself?”

“I recall him shoving photos of Ruby’s body in my face and shouting.”

“I have questions about the orientation of the pentagram. The prosecution alleged you were a Satanist because you had books on the subject.”

“Reading was a hobby. I used to pick up boxes of books at yard sales. There were doubtless several on religion, but they weren’t of any great interest to me, and I don’t recall ever opening them.”

I drew two pentagrams on my legal pad, one point up and the other inverted. “Which of these was on Ruby’s chest?”

Sykes tapped the first, the Wiccan version.

“This one.” His voice was calm; his knuckles were white as he squeezed his hands into fists. “The points stretched down to her thighs.”

“And her feet were at the bottom of the bed?”

“Yes.”

“Did her bed butt up against the wall? Was it possible to walk around it?”

“You want me to draw you a picture of the room?”

“You remember well enough to do that?”