AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“You’re going to make a big deal about going to the police station,” Cole instructs, laying out his plan to set her up to win any future battles.
Cole
Lori and I drill Tara for an hour before we head to the police station, where we will show up on my schedule, not anyone else’s, and demand we give a statement. When we’re finally ready, Lori and I do not stay for the clusterfuck of security and covert mission operations it takes to get Tara out of the building, nor do we ride with her to the police station. Once we’re there, inside and secure, we wait. Tara’s car pulls up to the station, and the press erupt over her. Her security does a good job of getting her inside and they have the sense to stay on the other side of the secure area. The press also does a good job of making the station a nightmare.
Detective Waller, a forty-something man, with salt and pepper hair, a tall, broad stature, and a distinctly sharp nose to match his sharp attitude, greets us just past security. “Obviously you’re Cole Brooks,” he says, already looking at Tara, or rather her ample cleavage, a hint of male appreciation on his face. “I see the world knows you’ve arrived here,” he says, greeting Tara and offering her his hand.
“Sorry,” she says, folding her arms under those breasts, and pumping them up. “I can’t shake hands. If I get sick, it throws off a lot of people’s schedules. And this place is very dirty.”
She comes off as a diva bitch, but I don’t know much about MS. She might really need to be cautious. She might really wear that diva badge as a shield, and I can’t say I blame her. Waller glances at Lori. “And you would be?” This time he doesn’t offer his hand.
“Lori Havens,” Lori says and following my lead from earlier, she adds, “Cole’s associate.”
“Associate,” he says smirking. “They don’t make associates the way they used to.”
“I’ll assume that to be a compliment,” Lori replies. “And you have mustard all down the front of your shirt.”
Tara shows good sense and doesn’t respond, nor do I. We simply let him suffer in the moment, when a young pretty associate turns around an insult on him. His eyes flicker slightly, embarrassment quickly banked before he recovers with, “In case I need some later. Let’s get this done.” He turns and starts walking, as I place Tara to my left, and Lori to my right, glancing over at Lori to give her a wink of approval. Her lips quirk, but she says nothing.
A long walk and an elevator ride later, we’re in an interview room, the three of us across from him, a camera in the corner. The drilling begins and with a bang. “How many times have you fucked the deceased, Ms. Knight, prior to him being deceased of course?”
“Six times,” she says, without hesitation.
Waller just blinks at her then says, “Not seven?”
“Six,” she repeats.”
“What about last night?”
“He wanted to fuck,” she says, leaning back in her chair and flipping her hair. “I had to sleep, and that man didn’t sleep at all when we fucked. It was like all night long. I have a charity event tonight. I couldn’t do that last night.”
He starts drilling her about where they met, how they met. Where she was last night. When she saw him last. It’s all building up to some bombshell. I feel it. I know how these things roll out. “Did you ever do drugs with the deceased?” he finally asks.
“I don’t do drugs, detective,” she says. “I’ve never done drugs.”
“You were in rehab last year.”
And there it is, bombshells starting to land. “For pain killers from an injury,” she says. “And it’s quite embarrassing.”
“If this gets out,” I tell him, “we’ll sue the department.”
He smirks. “Good luck proving that one.” In other words, he’s covered his bases.
Tara sits forward. “You little—”
Lori catches her arm. Tara inhales and sits back, never finishing her sentence.
Waller smirks. “Did you know the deceased as a drug user?”
“He smoked weed, if that counts,” she says. “I hate the skunk smell weed gives off and he kept it away from me. Even when he was writing his book, and he was all fucked up about revisiting the past, sex was his thing, not drugs.”
Lori suddenly stands up and walks to my seat, leaning down to my ear, “I’ll be right back.” Her hand is on my shoulder and she squeezes, and I get it. She thinks she knows something. She needs to check it out.
She exits the room and Waller leans toward us. “Have you ever given any drugs to the deceased?”
I don’t like this question. “State his name,” I say. “This constant reference to ‘the deceased’ could mean anyone.”
He grimaces and repeats the question. “Did you ever give David Curry drugs of any kind?”
