Page 41 of Bad Blood

Kline’s brow arches. “For what?”

“Making him leave.” I still can’t figure out how Kline got to the main floor when he did. Where I ran into him doesn’t add up. He couldn’t have snuck by. But there’s no way he could be involved.

The tall, broody detective returns, pulling me from my thoughts. “We need to ask you some questions. Do you prefer here or an office?”

Kline stands and stretches, answering for me. “She needs some time. You get it, right?” Stay silent—he gives me a silent plea, fear streaking through his eyes.

Anger boils in my veins. Now that the adrenaline has worn off, I’m making sense of what’s going on.

“I’m fine. We can go to my office.” It’s hard to think in words right now, but I push off the wall behind me and stand, amazed my equilibrium has returned to its normal state. I motion for the detective to follow me. “Detective . . . ?” I let my voice trail off, raising my brow.

“Roark. You can call me Hudson.”

“Follow me.”

“You can wait to talk to them until you have your lawyer present,” Kline shouts after us, the words coming out strangled.

I stop halfway through the doorway. Why would I need a lawyer? Does he think . . . ?

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I round on Kline, clearing the distance between us, and poke him in the chest. “Where were you? You just show up out of nowhere.” I narrow my eyes, hoping I get an explanation that makes sense so I can stop worrying about it.

He throws his hands up in surrender. “I’m just looking out for you, kid.”

Hudson steps between us, begging me to remain quiet with a pointed stare. “No one’s pointing fingers.” The curve of his mouth lifts at the corner like, I know what you’re thinking. I’m thinking about it too.

I scowl at Kline and return to the hallway. Hudson stalls, glancing between the two of us.

“Dr. Fields?” The sound of his shoes connecting with the linoleum reverberates through the vacant halls. He tries to catch up with me as I flick on the lights.

“Yes?” I don’t give him a chance. My purse and its contents are splayed in front of my locked office. The keys are right there. Right where I couldn’t find them. I scoop them up, insert the key, and twist as I step over the other remnants. “Come in.”

“Are you alright?” He stops beside the door, leaning against the frame, lingering next to me.

I avert my gaze, trying to make sense of what she said. It could be incriminating, but not necessarily for Kline. It makes no sense. But I want to get this done and over with so I can go home.

When our eyes meet, Hudson smiles. It’s boyish, sweet, and nothing like one would expect from a hard-nosed detective. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think he was blushing, but by the time I consider it, the sound of footsteps draws closer, and I have seconds to fill him in.

His eyes search my face, looking for answers. And I’m about to tell him everything she said, everything I know—when Kline turns the corner at the hall and comes into view. He’s escorted by another detective, all smiles like he won an Oscar for the best performance, and my stomach roils with disgust.

He stops a few feet from us. “Is everything okay?”

We both offer hardened smiles. But Kline doesn’t take the hint.

“I need a couple of files. The whole reason I came back to the office so late.” He pulls his shoulders to his ears and grins out of the corner of his mouth. “And I’m getting debriefed so I can go home.” He motions behind him to where another detective follows him. “Never would have expected the night to turn into something like this.”

“Crazier things have happened. I’ll catch up with you in the lobby when I’m done,” Hudson says to the detective, shifting his weight as he crosses his arms over his chest. His eyes stay pinned to Kline as he escorts the detective into his office and shuts the door.

Hudson’s eyes darken as he blows out a long breath through his nose. The scowl on his lips emulates the forced rigidness he tries to correct when he turns to face me.

I usher him into my office and close the door behind us. I direct him toward a chair at the front of my desk as I make my way to the cabinet next to it.

“Stairs.” When I’m distracted, I miss things. But I didn’t miss this.

“I’m sorry, what?”

I take out the three files from earlier and start perusing the notes. “You asked what she said.”

“Right.” He leans forward, following my movements with his eyes.

---