Page 31 of Innocent Intent

“I’m saying had I chosen to give more attention to the detective assigned to train us in the field as Cassidy had done, then you might be prying into my background instead of hers. Choices, Detective.”

Cassidy was sleeping with the detective in charge of her field training?

That brought another round of questions. “What would that have to do with Cassidy’s career?”

“Her first case was the Arnold case. Cassidy’s expert testimony discrediting the guy’s alibi is what essentially won the case. The wife and daughter were adamant about Arnold being home that evening. It was even rumored that Cassidy promised the kid that she believed her. No record of that promise exists, however. That case didn’t fast-track only Cassidy’s career. Chief Trent had a very stellar career as well. You do the math.”

“Are you saying she lied?”

“I’m saying that the guy was guilty. Everyone knew it, but the prosecution struggled with providing evidence that could prove he killed the woman. He was there. Admitted to having sex with her. He said it was a mutual exchange. That couldn’t be disputed. The smoking gun was putting him there at the time she was murdered. Cassidy gave the jurors what they needed, which was an open window for Arnold to have been there when March was killed. I get it. You guys shift things all the time, especially in cases like Arnold’s. He was a sick bastard who deserved exactly what he got. However, is justice really served if the details were manipulated to get the conviction?”

No.

But that’s sometimes necessary.

Davis understood the game. He simply didn’t enjoy it when the rules were broken. Now, he understood why Cassidy was obsessing over the case. Guilty conscience or possibly a severe case of imposter syndrome. Her entire career was based on manipulating the facts to serve an intended purpose. In her case, it was a conviction she felt wasn’t earned. For some, that was hard to let go.

“I see. Well, I think I have what I need. Thank you for your time, Ms. Tyler.”

As Davis tipped his head to leave, Tyler stopped him. “I have a question for you, Detective.”

Davis again granted Tyler his full attention, standing in the doorway of her office with his hands submerged in his pockets while he waited. She neared him, stopping about a foot from his rigid frame. “You being here obviously isn’t about celebrating Cassidy’s career. If I had to guess, and I’m pretty good at reading people, you’re here because you have doubts about Cassidy, her career, or possibly both.”

Davis didn’t respond, and Tyler smiled smugly. “Your silence is loud, Detective. What I would like to know is, why me? Of all the people you could have contacted, why did you choose me?”

“Easy. There was a photo online of the day Arnold was convicted. A group of you stood in the room while Cassidy was honored. The look in your eyes is the same as it is now . . . begrudging. I decided to cut through the bullshit and get straight to the people who were less than impressed by their colleague’s success. I’m good at my job, Ms. Tyler, as are you. Have a great day.”

He left her office with a new motivation contradicting what he wanted to believe about Cassidy Evans. Not only was she hiding something, but she was also potentially just as much a fraud as the man she was married to.

11.

The mood was strange. Although the sun was shining, the sky was clear, and the air was clean and crisp as a gentle breeze drifted around Cassidy, her spirit felt dark. Standing graveside, alone, to bury the man she both loved and now hated, was the cause of that darkness. No matter how hard Cassidy tried to block the way her heart ached, to channel anger instead of disappointment, she failed miserably. Tears welled in her eyes behind the dark shades she wore. However, she managed to prevent them from escaping. With her nerves frayed and anxieties running haywire, Cassidy mindlessly brushed a palm across her waist. She had bypassed the typical funeral attire and was instead dressed in jeans and a cream, cable-knit sweater.

There is no point in following protocol.

This isn’t my husband.

This is a stranger.

Cassidy didn’t owe this man the respect of going through formalities. Out of respect for the lives attached to the names he’d stolen, Cassidy elected to bury her husband with the name John Doe. He didn’t deserve to be identified or remembered by the names he violated. Jerrod Williams hadn’t earned her love or loyalty. Niles had possibly, but this wasn’t Niles. She refused to allow herself to feel a connection.

But my heart still aches for the love that no longer exists.

Had it ever really existed?

“You lied to me.”

One tear fell, then another before Cassidy swiped a knuckle across her cheek.

“Why? Why pretend to love me, only to rip out my heart with no care or consideration of the consequences?”

Her body trembled with sadness that slowly shifted to anger.

“I trusted you,” she whispered over and over again before she was yelling. “I. Trusted. You.”

Cassidy’s head swiped left and right, her fists clenched at a painful degree at her sides. She didn’t know what she was looking for until her eyes landed on the beautiful arrangement of flowers. Several vases were positioned in the grass surrounding one large design of white roses and calla lilies that sat on an easel. The funeral home had provided them. Of course, they provided superior service. She had paid an exorbitant amount to bury a man she didn’t even know.

Why wouldn’t they?

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