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“Allegedly, my cellphone pinged in the same areas as where their bodies were discovered around the same time they would have been dumped,” he says.

“And you willingly provided them with phone records, or did they obtain a search warrant?” I ask, scribbling his answer into my notebook.

“Neither,” he says, and I look up at him.

“So they obtained those records illegally then?” I ask, and he smiles. “Interesting. Were you in those locations at the time the bodies were dumped?”

“In the middle of the night, hours from my home, and before days I had early classes?” he asks. “No. I wasn’t.”

“What reason would your phone be in those locations then?” I ask. “You haven’t stated the records were wrong.”

“I actually don’t know what the records say,” he says. “My lawyer is working on getting those before my next court date.”

“Which is when?” I ask.

“Monday. Why, are you going to attend?”

“It is my understanding that I will eventually be required to testify,” I say honestly. “I will have to ask Professor Green in class tomorrow.”

“Testify for the prosecution?”

“I was not told,” I say. “If you are innocent, does it matter?”

“It does if you would be working against me. Why answer your questions if you have already decided that I am guilty?”

“My job is to conduct an interview, not convict you of murder, Mr. Ashcroft,” I say. “Why be evasive if you know why I am here?”

“Why do you think you were chosen to do my interview?”

“Because I am the most qualified in the class and you haven’t been a professor of mine.”

“Wrong,” he says. “Because you can still function and be afraid at the same time.”

“I’m not afraid of you,” I laugh dryly.

“I never said you were afraid of me,” he says with a smile. “You are afraid of yourself.”

The door opens, interrupting my thoughts. “Time,” he says.

“Tomorrow after class?” he asks simply.

“Yes,” I say as I stand with my notebook.

“See you tomorrow then, Nora,” he says. “Get your wrist checked, hmm?”

I walk out and keep my wrist against my abdomen as the guard walks me out. Unfortunately, he’s right. I do need to get it checked.

Chapter Seven

Nora

I open my apartment door, and Liam walks in with a bag from one of his sports medicine classes. “Hey, baby,” he says, gently kissing me.

“Hey,” I say quietly.

“Come on. Come show me,” he says. I sit on the bed, and he sits across from me before opening the bag. He puts on gloves before I pull my sleeve up. He sighs and takes my arm to start unwrapping the bandage. “Christ, Nora. This is bad.”

“It’s not too bad,” I say.