Page 81 of I'm Watching You

Warwick closed his notebook. ‘I suggest you get an attorney, Ms O’Neil.’

She glanced at Zack, expecting some kind of support. ‘I need an attorney?’

Zack showed no hint of emotion. ‘It wouldn’t hurt.’

Abruptly she rose. ‘I can’t believe this,’ she said. ‘I’ve got some nutcase out there sending me body parts and now the cops are breathing downmythroat. I didn’t kill Harold. But I’m the first to admit I hated the guy and I won’t lose any sleep over the fact that he’s dead.’

Zack stood but said nothing. He shoved his hands in his pockets and rattled change.

Warwick was unfazed by her outburst. ‘Get a lawyer.’

‘Are you going to charge me?’ she demanded.

‘Not yet.’

Lindsay couldn’t believe this. All she’d done was stand up for herself when Turner had tried to browbeat her and now she was a murder suspect. ‘Can I have my purse?’

Warwick slowly rose. ‘Yes. It’s on the banister by the front door.’

‘Thanks.’ She started down the hallway.

‘Don’t leave town without calling me, Ms O’Neil,’ Warwick said.

She didn’t glance back. ‘Right.’

She snatched up her purse and dug out her keys. She didn’t bother with a sideways glance into her office at the jumble the cops had made of her files as she pushed through the front door.

Once in her Jeep, she cranked the engine and backed out. As she drove home the surge of adrenaline from her interview began to fade.

Lindsay felt weary and so alone. She couldn’t tell the cops about Nicole. The woman was just getting her life back. She prayed the real killer would be found soon so the spotlight would leave her.

Fifteen minutes later, she pulled in front of her town house. She moved up her walkway and shoved her key in the lock. God, all she wanted now was a hot bath and a cup of tea.

‘Lindsay!’

Sam’s cheerful voice had Lindsay turning. He wore khakis, a white button-down shirt, and loafers without socks. The late afternoon light pulled red highlights in his thick sandy blond hair.

In a flash she remembered her promise to have dinner with him tonight. ‘Sam.’

‘Sorry I’m late,’ he said.

She glanced forlornly at her home. God, but she wanted to get into bed and pull the covers over her head. ‘Oh, no problem.’

Creases formed around his blue eyes. ‘You forgot, didn’t you?’

She glanced down at her keys in the door and grinned. ‘Or maybe I saw you drive up and was headed out to meet you?’

He laughed. ‘We can go with that story, if you like.’

She could feel her blood pressure dropping. ‘Works for me.’

Sam’s eyes grew serious. ‘If you want to bag tonight, it’s fine. You look like you’ve had a tough day.’

Her hand went to her ponytail, which had sunk low on her head. ‘I’m good. I need a night out or I’ll sit at home and stew.’

He grinned. ‘Good. There’s a new French restaurant out on Patterson.’

‘I should change.’

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