Page 26 of Even if You Fall

An incredibly convincing huff punched from her lungs as she stared at me with open bemusement. “I don’t know what?—”

“How about you tell me what you think of Owen Vance?” I asked instead, talking over her to trip her up, and was rewarded with the absence of all those lies.

Then again, she was absent ofeverything. Her joy, her bubbliness, her feigned confusion...everything.

Chloe looked straight ahead, but I had a feeling she wasn’t actually seeing me with how vacant her stare was.

When her eyes finally cleared, her eyelashes rapidly blinking as if coming back to the present, I already knew she was about to lie to me before she ever said, “I don’t have an opinion on him. I barely know him.”

I leaned forward, resting my forearms on the desk as I studied her. “We’ve already looked into the complainant. She isn’t originally from the area, and she’s worked at the same school for twelve years, which means I doubt your reaction earlier was because of her. So, why don’t you tell me what you think of Owen Vance?”

I only caught the smallest glimpse of shame before it was gone as she briefly glanced toward the door, and then her head whipped back in that direction as an irritated huff punched from her.

“I dunno why I feel like I have to sit here, answering your questions like I’m being questioned in an investigation,” she began as she stood, her words clipped but fueled with the beginnings of that overwhelming happiness. “You’re not a cop, and I’m not being held for questioning, so I’m gonna go back to my desk now.”

“Chloe,” I practically begged when she turned for the door and watched as her stunned eyes shifted to me. “We have a woman claiming this guy’s sexually assaulting and harassing teachers—that he’s blackmailing them. But we can’t find anything on him, and the person we sent in to do undercover work practically fell in love with him the one time she saw him. Yet you recoiled from adocumentabout him like he was about to jump through the screen to get you. So, please...tell me why.”

She stared at me for so long, I was sure she wasn’t going to say anything—sure she was going to leave. But then her chest pitched with a muted sob and the words, “I can’t,” left her, sounding strangled and so unlike the joyful liar I’d been plagued by the past week.

I studied the glassiness of her eyes before pointedly looking at the chair, my voice soft when I pled, “Sit.”

“Adam, I?—”

“Bubbles, please.” I held a hand over my tablet, leaving it stretched out there as I tried to get her to understand the importance of this. “This guy looks like a saint from everything we can find. If this is really happening? There aren’t any traces of it. How are we supposed to help the women he’s doing this to if we don’t have a real lead?”

“You have a lead,” she choked out, then turned away as she quickly swiped at her cheeks.

The fact that I stood, that my body tensed in preparation to go to her, terrified me. But I just forced myself back into the chair and watched as she took the same deep, rhythmic breaths I’d watched her take Monday morning before she faced me again.

And even though a part of me had been expecting it, it still shocked me to see the calm, composed smile on her face as if she was truly unbothered by our conversation. As if she hadn’t just been pushed to the point of tears in such a short time.

“You have a lead,” she repeated. “You wouldn’t have documents if you didn’t.”

“She isn’t...we need more,” I finally said, unsure of what all to say about the unreliable complainant. “Please.” When it looked like she was going to object, I added, “What if what you know is what helps us break this case.”

“It won’t be,” she answered.

“You don’t know that.”

“I do,” she claimed, the slightest hint of a tremor in her words. “I do, because I don’t know what you’re looking for. What I do know only makes me look like an awful person.” She tossed her hand in my direction. “And you already think so highly of me.”

An apology was on the tip of my tongue, but I swallowed it as I nodded toward the chair she’d vacated. “Let me be the judge of that.”

Her head shook for nearly a minute before she finally took a step toward the chair just as the door was thrown open, smacking into Chloe.

Briggs’ head had been down, his focus on his tablet as he’d been stalking in, but at the impact, he looked up. Eyes wide with surprise and confusion until he saw me.

As if just remembering what he’d sent me out of the meeting to do, he reached for the handle to leave before remembering the door had hit something, and then he looked around it. A muffled curse left him when he saw Chloe. “Sorry. You?—”

His head whipped toward me so quickly, his eyes narrowed in a look so cold and reproving, I had no doubt he’d seen the glassiness in Chloe’s eyes and the emotion she was struggling to conceal.

“You can go back to your desk, Chloe,” Briggs murmured.

I knew better than to argue, so I just waited as Chloe eased around him and out of the office. As soon as she was gone and the door was shut behind her, Briggs tossed his tablet onto the desk and set his full frustration on me.

“I asked one thing,” he ground out.

“And I heard you,” I said, trying to appease him, but he just huffed out a bitter sound as he gestured to the door.

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