Page 11 of The Secrets of a Sin

“Detective.” Fatty cop nods as the blond shuffles past him and takes a seat directly across from me. My eyes scan him over quickly, starting at his neatly ironed dress slacks then up to his navy buttoned up shirt that poorly conceals the trail of tattoos that are very noticeable on both his arms. The ink was barely peeking through, but I had a knack for observing things others couldn’t see.

“Jones.” He peers up at the cop with a nod back then focuses his attention on me.

Damn.

“I’m Detective Pierce.” He greets noticing the crusted blood that was still stuck on my forehead. Reaching into his pants pocket, he pulls out a tissue and holds it out for me to grab. “You must be Charlotte.”

Eyeing the tissue, I slowly grab it and wet it with my mouth before wiping it across my forehead. “Yes.” I respond as I scrub till my forehead hurts.

“How are you doing?” He searches into my eyes, causing my belly to flip from their intensity. He was a handsome man without a doubt, but in a rugged way. He was built like I would imagine a linebacker would look, tall and stocky but muscular in all the right places. On his face was a well-groomed beard that framed full lips and a slightly crooked nose that jutted out to the left. His blond waves were slicked back on top of his head and waterfalled just above the nape of his neck. With a modest lift of his eyebrow, I can feel my cheeks burn from embarrassment.

“As fine as you would expect after finding a dead body.” I mutter squeezing the dirty tissue in my hand, wishing I was anywhere else but here.

“Do you guys mind stepping out for a bit so I can speak to Ms. McKinney alone?” He directs his words to the cops that are standing beside him, then glances at Principal Welch.

“I’d like to stay.” She comments with her hands firmly planted on her hips and no notion to leave. With her chin held high, fatty cop walks over to her and motions his hand towards the door.

“Ma’am, we’re going to need you to step out in the hall with us.”

Her eyes darken as they glance between the cop and Detective Pierce.

“I will have to politely decline.” She crosses her lanky arms over her chest, directing her attention to the cop who’s watching her with clear annoyance. “Charlotte here is only seventeen and, right now, I’m the closest thing to a guardian she has.”

Detective Pierce turns in his chair while running a hand through his curly mane. Taking my chance, I wander my eyes over his side profile, noticing a jagged scar over his eyebrow trailing down over the top of his eyelid.

I wonder how he got that?

“Mrs. Welch...” He starts but is quickly cut off.

“It’s Ms.” She interrupts.

“Ms. Welch.” The corners of his mouth slide upwards, revealing a perfect set of teeth. “I understand your concern, but it is part of our procedure to speak with the witness alone.”

Her lips thin as she peers over at me with an unsure expression.

“How long will you speak to her for?” Her arms loosen at her sides as she traps him in her potent stare. She was intimidating to say the least, but Detective Pierce appeared less than fazed by her defiance to leave the room.

“Depends.” He shrugs drawing my attention to the revolver that’s strapped to his hip.

“On what?”

“On Charlotte of course.” He notices my stare on him and turns back around to gaze at me.

She sneers then glances at me one last time with a ‘don’t say anything you’ll regret’ look, then unwillingly follows the cops out of the room.

Once the door clicks shut, there’s a stiffness in the air that he clearly senses as well. Leaning back in the chair, his dark eyes hover over me queerly, almost like he’s trying to read me. Clearly, I masked my feelings well because he gives me a curt smile.

Jesus, he’s big.

“If you’re trying to intimidate me, it won’t work.” I muster up the words before he can start the interrogation. His mouth lifts into a grin as his large arms lift in the air to stretch, then slowly drop behind his solid neck.

“I’m not.” He simply replies. “Intimidation is a useless tactic. I prefer getting answers, properly.”

“Properly?” I chuckle darkly. “Let me guess, good cop/bad cop or is that useless as well?” I mock watching as his blond brow raises. “Or you could go old school and torture me? But I sense that might not be your style.”

His chest exhales on a deep laugh that sounds anything other than friendly, but strangely a smirk is still plastered on his face.

“Look, Charlotte.” The way my name rolls off his tongue sounds unusual, perhaps a slight Boston accent that I hadn’t notice before. “I’m not the bad guy here. What you came across was horrific and, in order to find out what happened, I need to ask you questions. I’m not accusing you of anything, so there’s no need to come at me.”

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