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“Madalyn Robertson.”
He lifts an eyebrow at me. “What was her name before you married her?”
“I, um, I don’t know.”
The deputy looks at me, then to my mom, and back again. “You don’t know the last name of the woman you married?”
“It was a shotgun wedding in Las Vegas,” my mom tells him, making me wince.
But too late. The cop’s eyes widen with interest, putting more pieces of this fucked-up puzzle together. “Vegas, you say.”
My mom looks to me, then to Colt, who keeps his jaw clenched tight.
“What’s wrong with Vegas?” my mom asks.
“I guess the men didn’t tell you, ma’am, but the first body we found in Greer’s bar yesterday just so happened to be wearing a Las Vegas shirt. A clean, new one, with no blood on it despite what had been done to him.”
“Oh,” she mutters, slumping down in her seat as she realizes that she just fucked me and Maddie over.
“When did you marry her? Where did you meet? Was she from Vegas?” He starts firing questions at me like he knows he’s on to something here.
“It was last summer.”
“You don’t remember the date of your marriage? I doubt that unless you like to live in the doghouse.”
“June eighteenth,”
“So, you’ve been married for…fifteen months, and you don’t know her last name?”
“No, I don’t. She wanted a fresh start, so I don’t bring up the past because I assumed it’s traumatic for her.”
“And is she from Las Vegas? Is that where her family still lives?”
“She was living in Vegas when we got married, but I don’t know anything about her family.”
“I think I should speak to this wife of yours. Call her and tell her to come join us.”
“No.”
“No?” the officer repeats in surprise.
“Maddie doesn’t have anything to do with this. She doesn’t know the PI or the other guy.”
“I didn’t say that she did, did I?” he replies. “But I think she may know who it was who killed them, maybe one of her family members sending her a message.”
“If it was her family, wouldn’t they just walk into the bar and say hello rather than murder two men?” my mom asks.
“One would think so, Mrs. Fulton, but we don’t know anything about this family of hers, do we?” Turning back to me, he asks, “Where were you last night, Jordan?”
“Oh great, we’ve reached the accusation part of this little interview,” Colt mutters. “Jordan didn’t kill anyone. I would bet my life on that.”
But the cop ignores my stepfather. He doesn’t even spare him a glance while waiting for me to answer him.
“I was with Maddie all night. We went back to our apartment after the Savage Kings meeting ended.”
“So, there’s no one else who saw the two of you at the apartment complex?”
“One of our neighbors probably saw us, I don’t know. Ask them. Or can’t you just look at my cell phone records and see what towers were pinged or whatever?”
