He spins me around. “Sinclair?” His eyes widen. “What are you doing here?”
I use his confusion to my advantage and punch him in the nose. He stumbles back groaning and trips, landing on his ass. I dash out the door before he gains his bearings and gets back on his feet. My feet pound against the ground as I attempt to get back to Mrs. Gregory's. I slip on a wet patch and curse as I struggle to my feet. In the dark, with my attire, he won't be able to see the direction I'm going in, even if he follows me. I lean against the side of Mrs. G's house to catch my breath. Cold sweat runs down my face. I watch him stagger into the street, and then he's moving toward Sin's house. I fumble with my keys and get inside, pushing my tired limbs forward to the front window. Cohen opens the door, and Kurt practically falls inside. They disappear behind the closed doors, and I wait. Sin is standing in the living room. Kurt lurches for her, and it feels like my heart stills. Sin brings her hands up in front of her. Cohen is dragging the madman away from his wife in seconds. Sin sinks into a chair, and Cohen pulls Kurt away. Why didn't I think of bugging their place? I watch and wait for my carefully constructed plan to fall apart around me. He saw me. He knows. He will tell them, and they'll look for me.
I shrink into the armchair and wait.
Chapter 17
Creed
Ireceived a call from Sin's - Sinclair’s - Mrs. Finley's husband, frantic about the boyfriend of the missing woman attacking Sin in their house. I shouldn't think of a suspect on a first-name basis, but there is something about this woman that has me blurring lines I wouldn't otherwise cross. Like going to see her the other day, with an update. That wasn't necessary. I could have called, but I didn't. I wanted to see her again. So, here I am standing on their doorstep when I could have sent an officer out to take a statement. Cohen Finley is about my height, probably the same age, but his hair is greying. It looks fashionable on him. He welcomes me in with a handshake and leads me to the living room, where Sin sits with her legs pulled up to her knees. Another man sits in an armchair on the opposite end of the room, his eyes red-rimmed, his hair standing on end. I recognize him as Kurt Frank. He hiccups, and I gather he's drunk.
“Detective.” Sin says, her pretty green eyes look pleased to see me. I want to tell her to call me Creed again, but I know it wouldn’t be appropriate. Cohen places a hand around her small shoulders. A gesture of ownership.
“Mrs. Finley.” I greet, taking a seat across from her. “Want to tell me what happened here, folks?”
Cohen starts. "In summary, - Kurt came over here and attacked my wife." His jaw ticks when he looks over at the other man.
“That true?” I direct my question to Kurt.
“Because she broke into Chelsea’s house. She was snooping around, then she punched me in the nose.”
“That is absurd.” Sin defends. “I’ve been home all night.”
"She was. We'd just had dinner, and the kids went upstairs. Sin and I were talking. We heard a knock, and he was at the door. He literally just walked in and went for Sin."
I sigh. “Have you been drinking, Mr. Frank?”
“What does that have to do with anything?”
"Just answer the question." I look over at Sin, and she holds my gaze for a second before dropping it.
"Yes," Kurt says, running his hands through his hair.
“So, you could have been mistaken?”
“It was her,” he yells.
"Settle down," I say, my patience is wearing thin. "I'm going to go take a look next door. In the meantime, you'll wait in the car."
“Am I under arrest?”
"Depends on what I find, and if the Finley’s want to lay a charge or not." I look at the couple.
“I don’t.” Sin pipes up. “I get that he’s stressed. I just don’t think it’s fair that he attacked me because of it.”
“Honey, are you sure?” Cohen asks, and she nods, looking between us.
I lead Kurt outside and let him cool off in my car. Cohen and Sin stand on their porch. I use the key Kurt gave me, walk through the house putting on lights, looking for any sign of forced entry or out of place items, and as I expected, everything seems intact. Everything except the empty bottle of Jack Daniels whiskey on the coffee table.
“Everything’s in place next door," I tell the Finleys. "I'll take him home. He'll probably want to apologize when he's sober. He drank a hell of a lot tonight."
“Thank you, Creed.” She tells me, and I nod. I shake Cohen’s hand and make my way into the car.
"She really was there, you know," Kurt says just above a whisper. I look back at the woman leaning into her husband, and I wonder if there is any truth in what he says.
“That is impossible, Kurt. Even Cohen says she was at home all night.”
"She could have snuck out, said she was going to the bathroom. I don't know. I just know I saw her. She punched me. I mean, could I have done this to my own face?"
