“Stop.” I toss his towel at him as I slide onto the stool. “I never knew someone could take so long to get ready. Isn’t that the girl’s job?”
Noah drops his towel on the island and shovels a bite of eggs into his mouth. He shrugs. “Don’t ever underestimate me, I’m a man of many talents.”
I furrow my eyebrows. He catches the hint and furrows his back at me. We both laugh.
“Are you the only one at the gallery today?” I ask eventually.
He nods. “I have been all week.”
“Why’s that?”
“No reason, really. I’m just a nice boss, I guess.” He swallows another bite. “These are good.”
“Thanks. I’m a woman of many talents.”
He laughs before even noticing my expression. “Chill out, Bell,” he teases, looking up at me. “Cooking isn’t even your best skill.”
I smile and kiss his cheek. Noah returns a boyish grin as he chews.
I gather my last bite of eggs and set my fork down when I finish. “Hey, can I ask you a question?” I say.
He swallows. “Of course.”
“Can I come with you to take some photos sometime?”
His eyes perk. “You want me to teach you how to shoot?”
“No, I just want to go with you. I want to watch you.”
“You want to watch me take pictures?”
I smile and nod.
Noah takes another bite and eyes me suspiciously. “What’s your ploy, Bell?”
I slap his arm. “It’s not a ploy, I’m being serious. And stop calling me Bell, you sound like Sheriff Vernon.”
“Oh God. Gross.”
“I’m serious though, let’s go this weekend,” I say. “How about tomorrow? We’ll find somewhere serene, pack a picnic, and we can make a day out of it. It’ll be peaceful.”
“That sounds nice,” Noah says, punctuating it with a gentle smile. I smile back at him. His eyes catch sight of my empty plate and he quickly scoops his late bite. “Here, let me take that for you.”
I begin to hand it over before pulling back. “No, I can do these. You’re going to be late you’re not even dressed yet.”
He looks down at his chest as if needing to confirm for himself and shrugs again. “Perks of being your own boss.”
I take our plates to the sink, wash off the grease, turn around and startle at the sight of Noah standing right behind me.
“Geez!” he says. “I thought you were going to pull a gun on me for a second.” His hands settle on my waist.
“Where did you learn that it was a good idea to startle a police officer?” I mumble against his chest. As my hands caress down his back, I can feel firm curves of muscle under my fingers.
Noah leans back and plants a kiss on the tip of my nose. “Have a good day today. Be safe.”
“Be safe and what?”
“And catch some bad guys,” he adds before kissing me for real. I bite his bottom lip and he pulls away the second I release. “You’re going to make me late.”
I scoff out a laugh. “Just tell the boss it was my fault. We’re on pretty good terms, he’ll understand.”
“Yeah, word around town is that he’s a pretty big fan of you.”
I shrug a Noah-shrug. “We get along.”
He walks me to the door and out onto the porch. We pause as he pinches my chin for another kiss that’s both too long and too short. “Go put on a shirt,” I whisper with my lips still touching his.
“I wouldn’t mind if you weren’t wearing one when you came home today,” he says.
Home.
“Does that mean I’m invited over again tonight?”
He cocks his head as if debating before he nods. “I guess so.”
I push onto my toes to peck him once more before descending down the porch. Noah remains in place as I climb into my car. I twist the key and look up at him through the windshield. The early morning sun is just beginning to settle in the sky, casting a warm golden light on his face and torso.
Noah shoves one hand in his pocket and waves with the other.
I smile to myself before waving back at him. Even from a distance, there’s an unmistakable way that his green eyes catch the sunlight.
Finally, I pull on my sunglasses and put the car in reverse, slamming the brake the second I look over my shoulder.
There’s headlights rounding the last turn of the driveway. An SUV.
A Marvel County PD SUV.
It skirts to a stop beside me. I turn to glimpse the driver and instantly my heart jolts with furious electricity.
Sheriff Vernon flings his door open without killing the cruiser’s ignition. He lumbers out and tips his hat at me when I spring out of my car.
“G’morning Sherriff,” Noah says, descending down the porch and onto the driveway with his hands still in his pockets. “You here to pull Sophia over again?”
He wraps an arm around my waist as I join him at his side.
“This is harrassme—” I stop myself when Noah gently squeezes my hip. He runs his hand soothingly onto my shoulder.
“The DA’s really got to find a way to keep you busy,” he says. “Or maybe Sophia can start training you on actual law enforcement, that’d take some time.”
Sheriff Vernon spits into the gravel. He eyes me up and down in the same way that Noah had, but this time it makes me sick. He smirks.
“You know it’s odd seein’ Noah with his arm around a uniform,” the sheriff drawls. “He ain’t really had a history of respectin’ law enforcement.”
For a second my skin becomes uncomfortably hot under my uniform. My legs stiffen and I bite my lip in an effort to trap my anger.
“Believe it or not, but it takes more than just a badge to earn my respect,” Noah says.
“Ain’t that the truth.” Sheriff Vernon tugs his belt up. He looks at me. “You can go ahead and change out’a that uniform, though. I’m afraid you’ll be takin’ some more personal time. Can’t have you around right now, it’s a conflict of interest.”
Noah stirs beside me. “You’ve—”
“A conflict of interests?” I blurt. “For what?”
“I ain’t here just to show my purty face.” The sheriff’s lips curl into a smile but it vanishes almost instantly. “I’m here to take Noah in for questioning.”
“Questioning?” My heart hits the bottom of my stomach. “What is—”
“I said go home and change out’a that uniform, Bell,” he barks. “I’m placing you under indefinite administrative leave, I don’t want to see your face. Your boyfriend here is the suspect of a murder.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Noah
The lights in the interrogation room are giving me a headache that relentlessly pounds at my forehead.
“Come on,” I groan with my head in my palms. “Let’s go.”
I rub my eyes and raise my head, glaring into the dark glass of the two-way mirror across from me. All I can see is my own reflection, but in my mind’s eye, I’m staring directly at Cliff.
I know that fuck is back there and I know this is his doing.
“Let’s go,” I bellow. “Come on!”
I sink back into my chair, lean my head back and close my eyes, but somehow the fluorescent beams still x-ray right through my eyelids. They’re just as fucking bright with my eyes open or closed.
The walls of the room feel like they’re shrinking by the hour. I’ve never been this restless. I feel like a lab rat being observed under cancer inducing lights by some of Cliff’s favorite minions. I forgot my watch this morning, of course, but it’s been at least two hours since I got here.
Two hours sitting in this fucking chair.
Under these fucking lights.
I rest my forehead on the table. It’s made of cold metal, but it feels drastically better than the stale and stuffy air.
Just then the door flings open and smacks against the wall.
“Shut the hell up,” Cliff barks. He slams it behind him. “
Whole damn town can hear you yellin’ in here.”
“Good,” I say flatly. “No priority on efficiency around here I see.”
His abrupt entrance settles into an arrogantly relaxed expression. He drops a manila folder flat on the table, then takes a step back and opens the door. “You’re free to leave if you’d like.”
“Yeah, I’m sure I am.”
“Go ahead.” Cliff tugs his belt up and shrugs. “You ain’t under arrest. Not yet.”
“My understanding is that people don’t get arrested unless they’ve done something.”
He closes the door and lurches into the chair across the table, leaning back and resting his hands on his stomach.
“Before we start I’ll remind you that you’ve got the right to silence. Otherwise, that little guy up there’s gon’ record everything you say.” He thumbs at the camera on the wall behind him.
I bob my head at it.
“Got it?” He winks at me, sending thick wrinkles down his cheek.
“Absolutely. I’m just hoping I can help clear this up.”
Cliff smirks. “You and me both.” He crosses his arms with fake look of confusion. “Cause see, I’m having trouble understandin’ how a guy like you could go and do somethin’ so brutal.”
I shrug. “I can’t help with that.”
Cliff leans forward and slowly brings his crossed arms onto the table. “You know, karma is one of them things that don’t ever go away,” he says. “Sometimes you can outrun her for awhile, but she always catches up. Sure as shit.”
He opens the manila folder. My eyes flick down, then right back up at him. Then to the camera sitting above the two-way mirror. I could upend this whole building right now if I spilled every little secret Cliff has forced on me. I’d end his career in a second, but that would mean I’d also—
“Sometimes you get warnings here and there,” he continues. “But if you go on ignoring them warnings, they tend to catch up real quickly.” Cliff pauses. “Somethin’ tells me a guy like yourself got a few warnings before he found himself sittin’ here.”
I stay silent, fixing my eyes on the tiny dark pupils nestled in his pudgy cheeks. Cliff holds my glare and his face begins twisting into another wide smirk.
He’s enjoying this.
The stiff silence makes the blank walls shrink even closer and the whole room is uncomfortably still until Cliff breaks our stare. All emotion vanishes from his expression and he turns the folder in my direction.
“Such an ugly, ugly scene,” he says, shaking his head.
Facing me is a picture of a woman’s nude body lying face up on the pavement behind a dumpster. There’s a single dark round hole in her forehead, lines of dried blood down her face. I allow my gaze to drop briefly, but I immediately return to Cliff’s face without a word.
Despite how hard it is to swallow the image.
He stabs his fat finger into the picture. “Go ahead. Look at her! This is what you did, son.”
“I didn’t do anything,” I spit.
“That ain’t what it looks like to me.” He spins the folder back around and flips to the page stapled behind the picture. “Elizabeth Anne Barton, twenty-four years old, killed from a single gun shot wound to the head. Bodily fluids found at the scene.” He looks up. “That means semen. I put a priority-rush on it and got the folks in the lab to test it right away. They came back with a match right before I came in here.” His expression flattens into a smile. “Guess who it is.”
I shake my head, unable to move my lips.
“All this forensic science is gettin’ kind’a crazy,” he says. “Ain’t even seen your hotdog and we know you did it.”
“That’s impossible.”
Cliff’s smile returns. “Well you can thank yourself for us gettin’ a match so quickly. CODIS still has your DNA. You remember that little scrap you got yourself into, don’cha?”
I don’t say a word.
His smirk grows with cruel satisfaction. “Yeah, I think you remember. It was somethin’ about your parents, wasn’t it? A few nasty words and eighteen-year-old Noah just started swinging.” He clicks his tongue. “What a shame. But—I guess that’s why we keep the info of knuckleheads like you in our system. Can’t say I disagree.”
My lungs are too tense to breathe.
There’s a fire in my stomach that’s urging me to speak, urging me to say something to defend myself, but every word stays caught in my throat.
“We collected a bullet that looks a lot like a .38 cal to me. Don’t you own a .38 caliber revolver?” He cocks his head, pausing to allow me to answer. But I don’t. “Thing is, we found a .38 cal revolver at the scene and she was covered in your fingerprints,” he drawls. In a sudden lurch he leans forward again. “Pretty soon, ballistics will pair our bullet with your gun.”
My back is hot with sweat and I ignore the urge to shift in my seat. I don’t even feel my limbs anymore. All I can do is glare.
Eventually Cliff leans back again. He joins his fingers on the bulge of his gut. His expression has become so smug that it takes everything I have not to knock the smirk off his fucking face.
But this time the silence is refreshing instead of stiff. I draw in a breath without showing it.
I’m tempted to request a lawyer, someone that can rip apart every thread of Cliff’s bullshit. And as much as I’ve wanted to, I haven’t taken the bait on any of his attacks. So far.
But involving a lawyer might just be shooting myself in the foot. I didn’t kill anyone, but my slate isn’t completely clean either. At least dealing with Cliff avoids the Feds.
“Gotta say, I’m surprised you’re takin’ that right of silence so seriously,” Cliff says. “So what, you ain’t got nothin’ to say?”
Not right now I don’t. I can’t risk it.
At this point, I only have one chance to play my cards right.
“Nothin’, huh?” He rests his elbows on the table. “Suspected of murder and you ain’t got nothin’ to say about it?”
I stare back at him without moving, ignoring the scent of his breath.
“Well, looks like you’re finally learnin’.” His smirk has become as permanent as the loose skin under his chin. “I’d say it’s just too bad your big bro couldn’t have taught you a little sooner.”
I jerk so furiously that my chair rattles against the floor.
“Ah! There’s Noah Mason,” Cliff exclaims. “Sensitive as a dog. Whatever you thought you was, you’re a murderer now, son. Best get that through your head.”
“I didn’t do anything,” I hiss through clenched teeth.
Cliff slaps the folder shut between his hands. “You’ve got time comin’ your way, Noah. And believe me, you ain’t gettin’ out’a this. It’s too late for that.”
If it weren’t for the camera I’d gladly earn myself a real murder charge and rid the world of the villain in front of me. I’d get revenge on behalf of the poor girl’s family and do the whole world a favor. And that’s exactly what I want to say, but I force myself to bury the words.
Instead I narrow my eyes, glaring deep into his corrupted soul. “I’d bet they give me a deal when they find out how much I know,” I murmur as softly as I can.
There’s a subtle shift in Cliff’s expression, but I catch it. A thin air of concern intrudes just under the surface of his smirk. Thin, but still there.
He coughs a humorless chuckle. Then in one heaving motion, he leans over the table within an inch of my face.
“I warned you,” he snarls in a low whisper. “And if you don’t take your medicine like a good boy then I’ll make sure Sophia Bell is the next cold body on the table downstairs.”
Cliff stands up.
He grabs the folder, rips out a sheet of paper, and slams it on the table before striding out and throwing the door shut behind him. Thick silence fills the room.
I suck in a long breath and rub the torment out of my forehead. After another moment, I force myself to look down for what feels like the firs
t time.
Laying flat on the table is the image of the girl’s lifeless body staring up at me.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Sophia
This can’t be real.
I’m numb and hollow and pacing around the living room. It’s been two hours. Maybe three. At this point I’ve lost all perception of time.
I’ve lost perception of everything.
At some point the local afternoon news will come on and they’ll be all over this. Until then, all I can do is wait.
Part of me can’t bear to watch, but I don’t have a choice. Right now it’s my only source of information. Another part of me wants to curl up and cry, but I’m still too numb.
Noah isn’t capable of something so violent and horrendous. It’s impossible.
And I have faith in my colleagues, I want to trust them, but if they’d just allow me to consult the evidence then they could start pursuing the real killer. Every second Noah is in custody is a waste of time and resources.
My blood is on fire racing through my veins.
There’s an aching hole in my stomach that’s starving for substance, but everything else is churning over and over in sickening nausea. I don’t even feel human. And more than the relentless nausea, I can’t push away the echo in my head.
I’m dealing with something. I think it’s fair that I tell you that.
With every echo I flash back to the bar and I desperately want to reach out and hold him. I want to take Noah’s hand and press him for an explanation like I should’ve done that night.
But I didn’t.
Instead I went against my better judgment and refrained from digging too far into his personal affairs. I held back when I could’ve helped. And now I can’t even do that.
But the truth will come out. It has to. He can’t really have done this.
Murder.
Could Noah—my Noah—really have committed murder?
NO. Of course not. So why am I even considering it?
A Capital Mistake Page 14