Page 64 of The Forbidden Note

I hurry to the bathroom with the papers I stashed chaffing against my skin. The moment I’m alone, I hunker over the sink and grip the edges tight. My brown knuckles turn red as I squeeze.

What was that? Why do I keep getting weird vibes from him?

The folder I left on Jarod’s desk is filled with newspaper clippings and online articles—things anyone could glean with a deep Google search. They won’t do him as much good as the janitor interviews and police reports currently stuck to my breast.

Hands trembling, I tuck the papers more securely in my bra and wash my hands. Wetting my curls to give them a little refresh, I re-do my lipstick and smile.

There.

I look like a confident woman and not the nervous wreck I am inside.

I return to the office and Jarod Cross is waiting.

He nods at me. “You okay?”

“Yes, I’m fine,” I stammer.

As I return to my seat, I notice him eyeing my blouse as if he can see the papers through the fabric. It takes everything in me not to squirm and check that the documents are out of sight. IknowI hid them well. Looking down now would just give away the fact that I hid something.

“Is something wrong?” I prod, holding his stare.

He breaks eye contact first and slips a pair of glasses over his nose. Nodding to the folder, he says, “This isn’t much to go on.”

“It’s all I have so far.”

He arches an eyebrow. “That’s not true.”

My blood runs cold.

Heart racing, I run my tongue over my lip. “What do you mean?”

He juts his chin at me and leans back in his chair. “You.”

“W-what?”

“You were there when this student was attending Redwood. Even if she didn’t personally tell you anything, you would have heard the gossip.”

My nostrils flare. I choose my words carefully. “I have my suspicions, but I don’t know if they’re warranted or not. Ultimately, I’d like closure for Sloane and her family.”

“Were you friends?” He temples his fingers.

“Yes.”

He nods slowly and I wonder what kind of conclusion he’s arrived at. “I’ll forward this to the PI and call you when he has an update.”

I hear the dismissal. “Thank you.”

Rising, I push my chair back in toward his desk and walk to the door.

“Miss Jamieson.”

I freeze.

His eyes are hot on me, two lasers drilling into my face. “If you remember anything else or have any information you’d like to add, let me know.”

My throat closes up. Why does that sound like a threat more than an offer to help?

I slip out of the room.

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