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Love disrupts your thought process. Clouds logic with feelings and makes truths become abstract, and lies possess more clarity.
This was something she had told victims time and time again when they asked the same question that had been on repeat in Cassidy’s mind since discovering her own life held secrets.
Niles wasn’t who he claimed to be.
And that statement had proven to be true. Love did disrupt your thoughts and make you believe the lies, but not Cassidy. She should have known better.
But I didn’t.
The nausea was gone, and her belly clenched and blazed with another feeling. A stronger emotion. Anger. The same anger she’d felt when following Niles that evening.
He was a gotdamn liar.
A fraud.
Cassidy slammed the lid of her laptop closed and shut her eyes, trying to control the rage boiling in her core. Rage that had her about to do something incredibly stupid. Her freedom was already on the line, so what did it matter?
Pushing away from her desk, Cassidy hurried to the custom, secured file cabinet she kept in the office. She’d wanted something modern with a soft appeal that matched the elegant style of her decor—a metal desk with a smoked glass surface and matching hand-stitched leather desk chairs with hints of black, white, and gray accents. If nothing else, it was aesthetically pleasing.
The file cabinet kept all of Cassidy’s pertinent information—contracts, degrees, past case files, and recent manuscripts. She keyed in the passcode, the lock clicked, and the drawer gave way, gently moving back. She pulled it open further and began digging through the contents. Her breath caught slightly when her finger brushed across the thick file folder that had haunted her for years. Her stomach contracted as she bypassed it and removed the tiny metal box behind the files. She placed the box on top of the file cabinet and flipped the lid open.
Thank God.
Cassidy exhaled a sigh of relief at being a hoarder of everything involving her career. Fingering the dated identification card briefly, she slid it into the pocket of her jeans and hurried to her room. After shoving her feet into a pair of shoes and grabbing a coat, keys, and purse, Cassidy headed to the door. She would deal with whatever consequences, if and when they surfaced. But for now, she needed answers and would do whatever was necessary to get them.
Walking into The Atrium, Cassidy felt her pulse thumping more rapidly with each step. She was risking so much with the potential to gain nothing, but instinct said she didn’t have a choice. With her life spiraling out of control, she needed to take control. This was the only way she knew how.
As soon as she reached the on-site rental office, Cassidy inhaled deeply before wrapping her fingers around the brushed nickel handle to pull on the paneled glass door.
“Welcome to The Atrium. How can I help you?”
She’s young. Good.
“Uh, yes.” Cassidy plastered on a confident smile and clutched the identification she held, prepared to flash it to whoever she needed to in order to certify the lie she was about to tell. “I’m Cassidy Evans. I’m working with APD. There was a shooting here—”
“The sexy guy on the third floor?”
Cassidy nodded, tensing at this young lady referencing her husband—Jerrod Williams—as sexy. “Yes, Jerrod Williams. There’s an open investigation, and I need to go up to the apartment once more to finalize a few things.”
“I thought they finished all that.”
“They did, but we have a few more questions that can be answered with one last walk-through. To my understanding, they want this wrapped up as quickly as possible. A shooting in a place as prestigious as this has to be a disruption.”
Cassidy didn’t know for sure, but in most cases, a dead body in a fancy high-rise being an active crime scene wasn’t what residents would call a “favorable” environment.
“Right. So you’re like with the police department? Do you have a badge?”
“Not a badge, but I have identification. I’m a forensic profiler, not a cop. I analyze crime scenes and suspects to help the cops solve their cases.”
Cassidy glanced at her hand, sliding the identification around until the date was covered, but her photo and name were visible. She held it up, fast-talking her way through the next moment, shifting the woman’s focus from the ID and praying she wouldn’t ask to take possession of it.
“You’re more than welcome to go in with me to make sure—”
“No, thank you. I’ll have maintenance go up there with you. I’m not trying to be anywhere near that mess.” The young woman shivered, tensing her face. “Hold on. Let me call them.”
She picked up the phone, and Cassidy listened while she explained to whoever was on the other end that a cop was there and needed to get into Unit 302. After a few uh-huhs and rights, she ended the call and addressed Cassidy.
“Elevator’s that way. Lewis will meet you up there. You know where you’re going, right?”
