Page 72 of Best Laid Plans

Chapter 28

Nova

Icouldn't stop smiling.

Anson and I weren't exactly back together, but I was so relieved that at least the hostility between us was gone.

I'd taken the day off, but I was checking my email all the same when my phone rang. It was the doorman, and he told me that there was a Detective Birchmore and a Detective Camp from Savannah PD for me. Confused, I told him to send them up. But something didn't feel right. I texted Trevor and told him that two of Savannah PD's finest were coming up to talk to me, and if he didn't hear from me, he needed to investigate.

Was I paranoid? A day after Pete arrested me again? Yeah. Yeah, I was.

I opened the door and saw a man in his late forties who looked like ex-military standing next to a petite black woman.

"Miss Nova King?" the woman asked after she introduced herself as Detective Camp.

"We need to talk to you about some financial discrepancies at Larue Homes," Detective Camp said, her voice firm but professional.

My heart sank. "I don't understand," I replied, trying to keep my voice steady.

"We'd like you to come to the station so we can—"

"Am I under arrest?" I asked, holding my ground.

"No, but you can be if that's what it takes to get you into the station house for a conversation," Detective Birchmore growled.

He was the bad cop.

"Fine, then arrest me." I sounded cocky, I knew that, but I wasn't. I was scared shitless.

Detective Camp sighed. "Miss King, we just need to talk."

They couldn't just arrest me. I knew that now, as I'd learned after what happened with Pete. At least this was Savannah PD, which meant they had to follow regulations, unlike the Sentinel sheriff.

"I'll be out with you in fifteen minutes," I told her. I wasn't going to let them into my apartment.

"We'd feel better if we wait inside for you," Detective Birchmore said.

"I'm sure you would, but it wouldn't make me feel better," I threw back at him.

"Don't try to run because—"

"And give you a reason to arrest me? I don't think so, Detective Birchmore." Fear was slowly being replaced by anger. Fucking Anson Larue. What was last night? A way to soften me up? Complete his revenge? Asshole. "Ah, which station house will we be going to?"

"Savannah-Chatham Metropolitan," Detective Camp answered.

I closed the door behind me, and quickly changed into a pair of slacks and a shell blouse. I put on a jacket because I wasn't sure how cold it would be in the station house. Dread settled deeper into me.

My phone beeped.

Trevor: All okay?

Me: No. Going to the station with detectives. I need a lawyer.

Trevor: On it. Don't talk. Don't show emotion. Just sit still. Someone will be with you shortly.

Me: Thanks. I'll be at the Chatham-Met station.

Trevor: Hang in there. We got this.

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