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“Shit, man,” my cousin laughs.
Dan doesn’t react, again, but I’m used to that. Ever since what happened to my sister, he’s been withdrawn, but I know he’s listening.
“Is there something going on between you two?” TJ continues like a busybody. “Did you fuck her?”
I want to smash his pretty little face because I don’t like the words he’s using, but I stand up straight.
“Man, every time her eyes meet mine…I think of one thing, her. Don’t you get it? I’m the one who’s fucked.”
So he understands exactly what I’m saying to him.
“You’re in deep shit,” says TJ.
43. Get the claws out
Iris
“But this word, ‘killer,’ it has a link with my past, and you know it!”
Since the beginning of my deposition, Detective Harrison keeps telling me not to jump to conclusions, that he has analyzed the files that the Portland police have made available to them on a database, that Joe Nelson apparently had no family, no suspicious contacts, no one who would try to find me…but I won’t give up!
The detective runs a hand over his protruding belly, silently thinking for a minute.
“I’ll investigate more thoroughly and contact the police over there. I’ll call you back if I learn anything more. Until then, your university has been made aware of an intruder lurking around, and security will be beefed up.”
I close my eyes and take a deep breath. He doesn’t understand. I’m sure this intruder came into my house for a reason.
“Everything will be fine, miss,” he says finally, with a faint smile.
An expression that I don’t manage to return to him, my stomach twisting little by little and my body refusing to believe his words.
I walk along the corridor, Detective Harrison on my heels. I can only think of one thing, to join Agnes who is waiting for me in the small waiting room with another detective. My aunt called me several times, and I didn’t have the courage to tell her what happened. I know that Agnes would have to leave Denver, that I would have to put her on the first plane to Portland, but I can’t bring myself to do it.
I catch a glimpse of her little redhead tilted toward the detective, who is explaining something apparently funny. As I approach her, a voice snaps behind my back.
“Miss Foster?”
I dig my heels in and turn to the woman in the stilettos who’s waiting three feet away, several huge files in her hands.
Professor Richards?! My criminology professor seems as surprised as I am by the situation. But after all, she’s a lawyer, so it’s not so surprising to see her here.
Her dark eyes analyze the slightest clue on my face, probably waiting for explanations from me that don’t come.
“I’ll get back to you soon,” Harrison says, waving me off and heading back to the lobby of the police station.
My gaze remains fixed on Professor Richards, but I nod nonetheless.
“Is everything okay?” she asks as she approaches me, her heels clicking on the tile floor.
“Yeah, I’m fine, thanks. Just…just a little issue.”
She nods in turn, searching through my words for what I’m not saying. Under her gaze, I feel like I’m being seen right through. I don’t like it, this feeling that she can read me like an open book. But most of all, that look on her face, as if she understands why I’m here, as if she knows a part of my past that I try to hide from everyone. I don’t think that’s the case, but I’m getting paranoid.
I mentally shake myself and then stand up.
“I have to go,” I announce as I walk by her.
I expect her to ignore me but she holds me back.
