Page 43 of Sinful Secrets

And I still haven’t been able to find the original documents from my scholarship.

It’s only a matter of time before something happens.

At least it won’t be rain showers or thunderstorms because the sky is clear blue.

I walk through the parking lot, heading toward my car, when a man steps in front of me. I want to scream and run away, but I can’t.

I’m frozen in my spot, unable to move.

He looks me up and down in a questioning manner. “Savannah Whitlock?”

“Yes. Can I help you?”

I don’t know who this man is, or why he was waiting at my car, but he’s giving me weird vibes. He’s dressed in normal athletic clothes, but he doesn’t look like he’s a student here.

“I’m Jacob Carter. I work for the Savannah Police Department. Do you have a few minutes? I’d love to sit and chat for a few minutes.”

He’s an undercover cop? Why does he want to talk to me?

“Uh, yeah, I have a few minutes.”

Thanks to Alvin and his daughter, I have an audition to be an ice girl for the local hockey team.

He points across the parking lot. “Can we sit at a picnic table?”

“Sure. Yes.”

Should I call Spencer? Or at least text him to let him know I’m being questioned by the police?

It’s the day of the funeral, so I shouldn’t bother him, but I’ll tell him when he gets home. Unless I’m arrested.

I follow him across the lawn and take a seat, putting my backpack and duffle bag under the table at my feet.

“So, what do you want to talk about?”

He pulls out his badge, placing it on the table between us. At my questioning glare, he says, “I just want to show you I’m not lying about who I am.”

“I appreciate that.” I fold my hands on the table as I wait for him to explain this impromptu conversation.

He digs his phone out of his pocket, placing it on the table. “So like I said, I work for the Savannah Police Department, but I’m working with the Feds.”

“Feds? Like the FBI?”

“Yeah, exactly.”

I nervously glance around.

Are they here? Watching us? Watching me?

“We have an offer for you. We will pay your tuition for this entire year in exchange for your cooperation and any intelligence you can give us to put the Marinos behind bars for life.”

He’s not making any sense.

“The Marinos? Who are they?”

He stares at me for a moment as if he doesn’t believe I don’t know who he is talking about.

“Arturo Marino. We’ve been watching him and his family for years and they’ve frequented the club where you work at. We also believe you are dating one of their accomplices.”

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