Page 19 of Cruel Titan

Ready as I’ll ever be and that’s not ready at all. “Okay.”

Following him down the long hallway, I feel like I’m headed to a prison sentence rather than a simple Q and A session. Seeing the two detectives sitting in the formal dining room with Candace doesn’t help my nerves in the least. I still want to know why she hadn’t informed me of the meeting ahead of time.

Detective Taylor stands. “Hi, Quinn. How have you been?”

“Good. Thanks.” I’ll attempt to keep answers short, that’s the best strategy I’ve got. I take a seat across the table from Taylor, while Nathan sits on one side of me and Candace sits on the other. Then Taylor introduces Detective McCoy again. I remember who he is. How could I forget Davis’s replacement who showed up exactly when my dad was found and Davis was almost killed?

“How’s your friend?” Taylor asks, his voice rising in pitch a little.

The hospital.

“What friend?” Nathan asks, confused at the question.

“I bumped into Quinn at the hospital when she stopped in to check on Detective Davis after visiting a friend.” Turning to look to me, Taylor continues, “How’s that friend of yours doing?”

“He’s much better.”

“I didn’t know you were at the hospital.” Nathan shifts, appearing uncomfortable at the news which troubles me. Why would Nathan be concerned about me visiting the hospital?

“Yeah. I didn’t want to worry you guys. Grant was there after a fight at school, so I went to check on him.”

“A fight with Asher?” Nathan asks.

“No.” Finally one thing Asher isn’t guilty of.

“Victor Hastings’s son?” Taylor asks, looking to me.

“Yes, that’s him, but he wasn’t involved in the fight.” Why the sudden interest in Asher? And why does it worry me?

Thankfully, Nathan chimes in, but the change of subject doesn’t make me feel any better. “How is Davis? I heard his accident was pretty serious.”

“He’s awake and doing well. No memory of the accident though,” Taylor responds.

“That might be for the best,” Nathan replies, looking to me before looking back to Taylor.

“Well, we just have a few questions about the night of your dad’s accident.” Detective Taylor motions to McCoy as he pulls out a sheet of paper, scribbling down something. “Did your dad call you the night of his accident?”

“No. I hadn’t talked to him since he’d left the house.”

“Where did he say he was going?” McCoy asks, speaking up for the first time.

“To work. He said there was a house he had to show and would be home afterwards.”

“Were you worried when he didn’t make it home?”

Looking down at my hands, memories of the night overload my senses as they pass through my mind. “I didn’t know he hadn’t made it home because I was at my friend’s house.”

“Next door to your home?”

“Yes.”

McCoy jots down another note before looking at me. “Did anyone stop by your house that night?”

The female police officer’s pitying eyes are as clear in my mind now as they were that night. I attempt to hold the emotion out of my voice but fail miserably when the words choke out, sounding more like a sob. “Just the two officers.”

“Are you sure?” Taylor asks.

I nod my head in response, still unable to control the sadness in my voice.