Torn - Cynthia Eden Page 0,111

much more.

Hope.

Love.

Darkness hadn’t won this time. They’d survived. Two lost souls . . . found.

One week later . . .

“I DON’T UNDERSTAND why I have to come into the police station,” Matthew Walker said as he straightened his tie and glanced over at Bob Moore, his lawyer. “I mean, I’m recovering from my injuries. I should still be at home. On bed rest.”

“What a dick,” Wade muttered from bedside Victoria.

She, Wade, and Asher Young were in the Savannah police station’s observation room, separated from the interrogation room by a thin one-­way mirror. Detective Dace Black had just followed Matthew and Moore into interrogation, and the real show was about to begin.

“Hmmm,” Asher murmured as he moved in for a better look. “He does look like a dick, I agree.”

He looked like a killer to Victoria, and LOST was about to prove just that.

“Why don’t you have a seat?” Dace waved toward the chairs that waited on the opposite side of the small table. “I just have a few questions that need clarifying.”

“I could have ‘clarified’ things over the phone,” Matthew huffed as he sat down, his lawyer sitting next to him. Victoria thought Matthew made an extreme show of struggling to sit. Painful injuries, her ass. Wade and Asher were both up and walking again just fine. And this guy?

We are going to nail you to the wall.

Dace pulled out his first piece of evidence, and sat the gun—­bagged and tagged as evidence—­onto the table next to Matthew. “This is the weapon you brought to Worthington University, correct?”

Matthew glanced down at the gun, then at his lawyer.

Moore gave a short, negative shake of his head.

Victoria saw Matthew’s eyes narrow. He doesn’t like being told what to do.

Matthew’s stare cut back to Dace. “Looks like it.”

“Right. Well, your prints were all over it, and it was recovered at the scene.” Dace gave a wide smile. “But what I don’t get is why would you bring an unregistered weapon to a college campus to begin with?”

“Because I was out of my mind with grief!” Matthew threw out his hand. “I’d just figured out—­before any of you cops did—­that Troy North was a sadistic killer! I just wanted to stop him—­”

“With an unregistered gun.”

The lawyer leaned forward. “The gun was a gift to my client. He had no idea it wasn’t registered.”

Dace’s eyelids flickered. “Want to tell me who . . . gifted that gun to you?”

Matthew smiled. “Melissa did. Fitting, isn’t it? That the woman Troy killed would have a hand in his death.”

“He is so fucking confident,” Asher mused behind the one-­way mirror. “The bigger they are . . .”

“The faster they become someone’s bitch in prison,” Wade finished.

Victoria kept her gaze on the scene in the interrogation room. It was almost showtime.

“Why would Melissa give you anything?” Dace asked Matthew. He opened a manila file. Pulled out a stack of papers. “According to this sworn statement, her roommate, Jim, said Melissa was never involved with you—­”

“She just didn’t tell him—­”

“Melissa told him that you’d made advances to her. Advances she rejected. You’d followed her on her jogging path twice—­”

“That was my path, I ran it all the time!”

Moore tugged on his sleeve. Matthew just jerked away from the lawyer. “No, no, this is bull! Melissa and I were involved. Okay, it just started as sex, but it was going to be—­”

“Jim actually did see Melissa’s lover,” Dace interrupted. “He saw him from the back one day, and the guy’s build is very similar to Troy North’s and he had blond hair, so I could see where Jim would’ve initially thought it was the psychology professor she was involved with, but . . .” He pulled a photo out of his file. “I believe Jim actually saw this man. Flynn Marshall.”

Matthew didn’t look at the photo. “I don’t know him.”

“I didn’t ask if you knew him.”

The lawyer rose. “Okay, this has gone on long enough. We came here as a courtesy and—­”

“If you happen to follow Atlanta news,” Dace continued smoothly, “you probably already know that Flynn Marshall is dead. He was killed when he attempted to abduct LOST agent Victoria Palmer.”

Matthew was starting to sweat. Just a bit.

Wade’s hand slid over her back. “You ready?”

She thought of Kennedy. Of Melissa. “Absolutely.” Victoria squared her shoulders and left their observation area. Moments later she opened the door to the interrogation room.

“I don’t follow Atlanta news—­” Matthew blustered. But when he saw Victoria, his words jerked to a halt.

She inclined her head