Page 93 of Sinful Secrets

Taking a deep breath, I turn to look at my classmate, who’s recording me. “Can you send me a copy of the recording? You can send it to my school email.”

She gives me a small nod before turning her phone toward the officers.

Another officer lightly grabs my other arm and leads me through the building. Luckily, most classes are still going on, so the hallways are empty except for a familiar face.

Justine.

She ends the call that she’s on and runs over to me. “What’s going on?”

The officers pull me past her. I turn my head to look at her. “I don’t know what’s going on because they won’t tell me anything. Call Spencer and tell him what’s going on.”

Thankfully, the team doesn’t fly out until tomorrow morning for two more away games. They were gone for close to two weeks, came home for one game, and now are leaving again tomorrow.

It’s no wonder he’s tired of traveling with a schedule like this.

Justine scrambles with her phone. “What’s his number?”

I recite Spencer’s phone number before I am pulled through the main doors and pushed into the backseat of a police car.

The drive to the police station is long and quiet. I don’t speak, and I keep my thoughts to myself.

There seems to be more going on than meets the eye. It’s like Mr. Carter is targeting me because I turned down his very generous offer to pay my tuition in exchange for information.

Can’t he find someone else to get the information he needs?

The car stops, and I am led into an interrogation room. The officer pulls out my chair before sitting down across from me.

The room looks just like it does on television shows, and I’d bet anything that Jacob Carter and the FBI agent are behind the large glass mirror watching this interaction.

He doesn’t speak. He just stares at me, making me feel like I’m under scrutiny.

The longer I’m forced to sit on this uncomfortable metal chair, the more pissed I get. “What am I being arrested for?”

He folds his arm across his chest, drawing attention to his name tag. My gaze stays on it long enough to read his name. S. Donaldson.

He lets out a breath. “You are being detained.”

“That’s what Detective Carter said. So what am I being arrested for?”

He keeps his tone calm and even. “You aren’t being arrested. You are being detained.”

“What am I being detained for?” I ask with an attitude.

He opens a folder and pulls out a sheet of paper. “We are willing to let all of this go in exchange for your cooperation.”

He’s not making any sense.

“All of what go? You haven’t listed any charges.”

“How about possession of drugs and drug trafficking to begin with?”

He slams the sheet of paper down on the table in front of me. The sudden movement and the loud noise make me jump in my seat.

I take several deep breaths to calm my racing heart.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

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