Page 137 of Serving the Mogul

Breathing hard, I stared at the shadow I could barely glimpse through the blinds.

“What the...,” I muttered.

“Ms. Siegler? Are you okay there?”

“Well, fuck,” I grumbled under my breath as I got up.

There was another knock, harder this time.

“Hold on,” I said, raising my voice so the person could hear.

I lifted a slat on the blinds and saw a woman who was vaguely familiar and a man who wasn’t.

“Can I help you?” I asked through the glass.

The man held up a badge, then presented me with his ID, identifying him as a Houston police detective.

My heart skipped a beat as I shifted my gaze to the woman.

I knew who she was now.

It was the woman I’d met from the fire department.

Slowly, I let the blinds fall back into place and opened the door. Beth Creedy gave me a gentle smile as she moved forward, taking the lead while the man shifted away.

“Hi, Tina,” Beth said.

Her voice was the same, smooth and gentle, with a drawl that suggested Georgia, or one of the Carolinas, instead of Texas.

“We need to speak with you…we tried calling your cell phone, but didn’t get through and thought we might catch you here. Is it okay if we come in?”

I wanted to tell her no, that I wanted her to wait and let me call James.

James. Not Dina. Not my mom and dad.

James.

Instead, I nodded and stepped aside, gesturing to them to enter. I shut the door behind them and re-engaged the lock. My palms were sweating. Swiping them down the sides of my blue jeans, I cut around them and went to my desk, taking the seat only because it offered some pretense of control.

“Is it okay if I sit?” Beth nodded to one of the two chairs placed in front of my desk.

“Of course. I’m sorry. Where are my manners...”

“Please, Ms. Siegler, it’s fine.” Beth waved a hand. She skimmed a look over the pictures on the walls, taking them in with curious eyes. “Are these designs finished projects?”

“Yes.” She was probably trying to calm me before dumping some shit-bomb in my lap. I was glad for the distraction. Glad for anything that didn’t remind me of the flames and the ruin.

“You’ve got a lot of talent.” She smiled and shifted her attention back to me.

“Thanks.” I gave a short answer, noticing that her partner was staring at me.

“This is Detective Baylor, with the Houston Police Department. We’ll be working together on the case,” she said, crossing her knees and resting her hands on the upper one.

“Case?” I raised my brows.

What had she meant? Was my apartment a case?Why?

“Yes.” She leaned in slightly, her posture conveying sympathy, but strength. “Ms. Siegler, your apartment is going to be a total loss. I imagine you figured that out already.”

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