“A fat ass?”
I groaned. “Thanks for the reminder that I have to hit the gym today. I haven’t worked out in days.”
Unless one counted mattress gymnastics …
“How do you stay motivated?” she asked me. “I know I should go, but I can always find an excuse not to.”
“And you keep that amazing figure anyway?” I shook my head. “You make me sick.”
Her lips quirked. “Where do you work out?”
“I alternate between a regular gym and a Krav Maga studio in Brooklyn.”
“Do you go after work or before?”
“After. I am not a morning person,” I said. “Sleep is my friend.”
“Would you mind if I tag along sometime? I don’t know about that Krav what-a, but the gym. Where do you go?”
I swallowed a bit of chocolate and was about to reply when I heard a phone ringing.
“Are you going to get that?” Megumi asked, which alerted me to the fact that the phone was mine.
The burner phone, which was why I didn’t recognize it.
I dug it out quickly and answered with a breathless “Hello?”
“Angel.”
For a second, I savored the rasp of Gideon’s voice. “Hey. What’s up?”
“My attorneys just notified me that the police might have a suspect.”
“What?” My heart stopped. My stomach began to revolt against lunch. “Oh my God.”
“It’s not me.”
I don’t remember getting back to the office. When Megumi asked me for the name of my gym, she had to ask twice. The fear I felt was like nothing I’d ever suffered before. It was so much worse when you felt it on behalf of someone you loved.
How could the police possibly suspect someone else?
I had the horrible feeling they were just trying to shake Gideon up. Shake me up.
If that was the goal, it was working. At least on me. Gideon had sounded calm and collected during our brief conversation. He’d told me not to get upset, that he just wanted to warn me that the police might come by with more questions. Or they might not.
Jesus. I walked slowly back to my desk, my nerves shot. I felt like I’d gulped down an entire pot of coffee. My hands were trembling and my heart was beating too fast.
I sat down at my desk and tried to get back to work, but I couldn’t concentrate. I stared at my monitor and didn’t see anything.
What if the police did have a suspect who wasn’t Gideon? What would we do? We couldn’t let an innocent person go to prison.
And yet there was a tiny voice in my head whispering that Gideon would be safe from prosecution if someone else were convicted of the crime.
The moment the thought entered my mind, I felt sick over it. My gaze went to the photo of my dad. He was in his uniform, looking dashingly handsome standing next to his patrol car.
I was so confused, so frightened.
When my smartphone started vibrating on my desk, I jumped. Dad’s name and number flashed on the screen. I answered quickly. “Hey! Where are you?”