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“Here we go,” I say a few minutes later as I bring up the document for the police. “I can email it if that helps.”
“That would be wonderful, thank you.” Batista glances at her partner and then focuses on me again. “A written statement from you would also be enormously helpful, Miss Winkley. Can you do that?”
“Oh, yeah. Whatever you need.”
“Excellent.” She jots something down on a piece of paper and slides it across to me. “If you could send the contract to this email address shortly, we’d really appreciate it. Take whatever time you need with the statement.”
Her handwriting is just like her—tall, upright, precise. She’s dug the pen in hard enough to leave grooves in the paper and I sweep my fingers across them absently.
“Absolutely.”
“Thank you again for talking with us, Miss Winkley.”
“Will you be wanting me to come to the station for the statement?” I ask. “I mean, seeing as I was technically involved with everything without really knowing…”
Her smile is kind enough.
“We’ll give you a case number and anything else you might need. Written should suffice, along with the contract. There’s no evidence linking you to any crime. I’ve asked my department to add patrols around your grandmother’s property, too, though I don’t think you’re in danger.”
I stare at her, my heart thudding.
“We expect the Kansas City outfit out of Chicago Mr. Haute worked with to lay low for a while. It’s not in their nature to target witnesses when they know there’s an open case. These organizations are like weeds, but we’ll be pursuing everyone directly responsible in this scheme.”
Although I believe her, relief still presses me into my chair and makes my legs liquid. I’m not sure I can stand if I want to.
“I’m glad to hear it,” I say after a moment.
“Colin, will you head to the car? I just want one more word with Miss Winkley here privately.”
Colin gives her a long glance, like she’s breaking an unwritten rule, but after a moment he leaves the room. Nana’s in the kitchen banging away as she cleans up pans, and now it’s just Detective Batista and me.
“I know Dexter Rory,” she says. “We served together overseas. He helped me come home alive once.”
I blink at her, wondering if she means sheknowsDexter. She’s so different from me, it’s hard to imagine them together.
“Um, right. If you’re here to break the news gently, I don’t need you to be his messenger. I know it’s over…”
“Did I say that?” She stares at me, her dark eyes focused. She’s younger than I thought—maybe thirties, around his age. Lines are starting to flare near the corners of her eyes but there’s a vibrancy to her face I missed before. “Your relationship isn’t my business. But I saw him when you were still together. He asked about Haute and mentioned you.” She shrugs. “All I’m saying is, I’ve never seen him like that. You clearly mean a lot to him.”
Wow.
Isn’t that basically what Nana said, too?
“Thanks.” I force a smile. “But, um, I think whatever we had can’t be mended.”
She looks at me for a second before setting her cup down. “The coffee and cake were delicious. Thank your grandmother for me, will you?”
“Sure thing.”
“Good luck, Miss Winkley. With everything.”
“Let me know if anything comes up,” I say before I can help myself. “About the case, I mean.”
She nods as she leaves the room. “Try not to worry about it. It’s looking like a textbook takedown of organized crime.”
That’s good news, but for some reason it makes my throat tight.
I might have to testify in court later. I always knew that was a possibility, but what if months pass and I have to relive my sham engagement?
