Highest Bidder Collection - Lauren Landish Page 0,336

seems the more levelheaded of the two, with short dark hair, broad shoulders and a large nose. Unlike Detective Richter, he has a badge, a large golden ornament, proudly on display on his right breast. He doesn’t have a gun. “You’re away from prying ears now and can speak freely.” He waits for a moment to see if I’ll respond before saying, “We promise you, we’re just trying to do our best to help you.”

I nearly snort out a laugh at the bullshit. Though I’m not well-versed in law or cop tactics, I at least know that they are not my friends and they are not trying to help. I would be a fool to trust them.

I keep my head down, clenching my jaw. If they’re expecting they’ll get me to talk, they’ll be waiting a damn long time. I’m not saying shit other than what I’ve already told them.

The sound of the clock ticking on the wall fills the silence. Tick tock, tick tock.

“Look up when Detective Lawson is speaking to you,” Detective Richter says irritably, suddenly.

Go fuck yourself, I want to growl, but don’t.

I know Detective Richter is only doing his job, but he has no idea what I’ve been through. And if he thinks being firm with me will get him what he wants then he’s sadly mistaken.

“Don’t make this hard on yourself. We all know you’re lying.”

I freeze, wondering if they really do. I almost part my lips to say, “How?” but then remember the tactics the cops use. No matter what they say to me, I need to stay quiet. It’s better that way. I’ll be quiet, I’ll get a lawyer. They can blame me for killing him when they see what he did to me. I’ll claim self-defense, or maybe insanity. I pick at my nails, the fear and anxiety weighing heavily against my heart.

“Do you honestly expect us to believe a woman like you killed Danny Brooks when he had so many enemies?” Detective Richter demands.

I remain silent.

Detective Richter snorts when he sees I don’t react. “Or let me put it better for you; do you honestly expect us to believe that a woman in your condition, a woman who’d just been beaten within the inch of her life, was in any position to kill her lover?”

Again, I don’t respond, keeping my face stoic and pointed downward against the table, even though the word lover throws me off.

Just a little while longer, I tell myself.

“You’re making this hard for yourself,” Detective Lawson says in a way more calming tone. “We don’t want to see you locked up for a crime you didn’t do. All you have to do is tell us why your new boyfriend killed him.”

I stay still, clenching my jaw, my eyes closed tightly.

Silence descends upon the room.

Detective Richter starts to say something, but he’s interrupted by a knock at the door.

A young man sticks his head in, opening the door just enough and says, “Someone here to see you, Detective Richter.”

Detective Richter glances at me, his jaw clenching. “Can it wait?”

The man glances outside the door and then shakes his head.

Detective Richter sighs and gets up from his seat and nods to Detective Lawson before leaving the room.

It’s quiet when he’s gone and I stay in the same position, feeling sharp pricks along my back. I shudder at the thought of having to sleep on a hard bed with my aching wounds.

“Don’t be unnerved by Richter,” Detective Lawson says, breaking the silence. “He tries to get a rise out of all our interviewees, to put them off guard.”

I ignore him. He can try to be nice all he wants, but he’s not getting anything out of me.

“You can talk to me,” Detective Lawson presses. “I’m on your side here.”

I continue to sit there, not saying a word. I just want this all to end.

Detective Lawson inhales as if to say more when the door opens, and in walks Detective Richter with an impeccably dressed woman in a business suit, her shiny blonde hair finely coiffed.

“Up, Miss Owens,” Richter practically barks.

For the first time since coming into the interrogation room, I lift my head up, wondering what the hell is going on.

“Why?” I demand, my voice sounding hoarse and raw from screaming the other night. “Is it time for me to go to jail?”

Before he can answer, the woman next to him says, “Hello Miss Owens, I’m Dana Mills, the lawyer that’s been hired to represent you.”

“What?” I ask, my face