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“Yum!” I paste on a smile. “Better make it two. Thanks.”
“Be right back.” She flits off.
While Fiona is in the kitchen, I’m tempted to reopen the web browser and do some more investigating, but my cod friends call to me. The weight of responsibility bears down, and I open up my article and get to work. I’ve never been one to put off getting work done and right now with everything that’s happened in the past few days, focusing on the population of fish is exactly what I need.
I sense a change in the room. I look up, expecting Fiona to be back. Instead, my stomach drops into the soles of my boots.
There’s a police car parked right outside the doors of the Chronicle. Our doors. Instantly, I know they’re here for me.
Someone gets out of the parked car, walking around the front of the vehicle to cross the street.
DI Collins.
He looks right at me through the glass, our eyes locking. He knows I’m here. Running out the back is not an option. I quickly scan my mind, my heart, my conscience.
I don’t want to run. Do I? I want to witness, to tell the truth about what happened. I have to learn from the past. I can’t make the same mistake.
I don’t want to withhold information and live to regret it.
Not again.
I rise from my seat.
Fiona returns just as Collins opens the door, stepping inside. She holds a fresh cup of tea for herself, a small white plate with two chocolate covered cookies for me. Fiona’s head snaps from me to him, then back to me again. She turns her back toward the approaching officer. She gives the tiniest shake of her head, her eyes locked on mine.
“No,” she mouths, her eyebrows sky high.
I give her a quick nod of agreement. “Detective Collins.”
I try to smile, pushing my chair back further so I can walk the narrow space between the table and the wall. Brushing past Fiona, I give her forearm a quick squeeze. I take the plate from her, holding it up to the detective. “Choccy biccy?”
“No thanks.” He pats his flat stomach. “Gotta stay in shape in case I’ve got to chase any bad guys down.”
Fiona and I laugh politely.
“Ms. Kitt, can I trouble you to have a word outside? It’ll only take a minute. Then I’ll let you girls get back to saving your puffins.”
“Cod,” Fiona corrects.
“Cod. Right.” He holds a hand out, gesturing for me to go first. “Shall we?”
I feel Fiona’s wide eyes watch me every step I take as I lead the officer onto the sidewalk.
As soon as the door closes, he turns his heavy gaze on me. “Where were you last night? We sent an officer. He asked about you, but your friends said you were out.”
Lies.
Flashes of last night crowd my memory. The thought of ten robust officers breaking into the cottage, finding me tied up and whipped…
It’s all too much.
I’m feeling lightheaded. I reach out, pressing a hand against the cold tan stone wall. “How can I help you, sir?”
“You alright?” He eyes me.
“Yes. Just stood up too fast. Or too much caffeine. You guys drink a whole lotta tea over here.”
He looks mystified. “What about Starbucks? Aren’t you Americans obsessed with your overpriced lattes?”
