Page 4 of Absolution
He’s dangerous.
“Sorry,” I apologize as Officer Singh approaches me with the cup of tea that she clearly finds offensively sweet. “I should’ve made a cup for you.”
“It’s not a problem,” she replies, settling down on the plush cream armchair beside where I’m perched on the edge of a matching couch. “I’m sure this is very difficult for you.”
I cut my gaze away from hers and look out at the view of York Minster and the distant countryside that’s visible through the floor-to-ceiling windows. Only yesterday, I marveled at the perfection of this stunning place and the fact that I was sharing it with Dane, my dark god.
I take a sip of tea and don’t reply in any way, not even to nod in agreement. The hot liquid is still too bitter on my tongue, even though it’s sweetened with sugar and diluted with milk. I force myself to swallow it down, and I welcome the warmth that suffuses my chest. At least it chases the worst of the chill away.
“I’d like to get a clearer picture of what happened to Stephen Lansing,” she continues, and her soft tone doesn’t reach her sharp brown eyes. “You were the last person to meet with him, according to the schedule we found on his tablet. He took thorough notes of your meeting, and the last entry was timestamped around his estimated time of death. We’ll know more as we process the scene, but now you have an opportunity to help us understand Dr. Graham’s motives.”
I press my lips together. I have no idea what to say, what I evenwantto say.
I could tell her the truth: that Stephen drugged me and tried to rape me.
Dane didn’t have to kill him in order to save me, though. That doesn’t excuse what he did.
When I think about the fact that Stephen is dead, I don’t feel a shred of distress. If he wanted to violate me like that, he could do it to another woman. Maybe he already has.
The world is a safer place without him in it.
But Dane has implicated me in the murder. I didn’t kill Stephen with my own hands, but in a way, I’m responsible.
“I don’t know what happened,” I say, skirting around the truth.
I don’t remember anything about last night other than disjointed, hazy memories of fear and despair.
And Dane’s fierce green eyes when he caressed my cheek and said,Don’t watch, Abigail. I’ll take care of this. I’ll take care of you.
When I woke up in his arms an hour ago, I’d been shocked to learn of Stephen’s death. It’s not entirely a lie that I don’t know the details of what happened to him.
Officer Singh’s lips pinch to a thin line, the only sign that she’s irritated with my reticent response. “Dr. Graham didn’t say anything to you about Stephen Lansing before we arrived? Where was he last night between ten and midnight? Was he with you?”
“Yes. He was with me.” Another true statement that doesn’t fully answer her question.
I’ve always been a terrible liar, so sticking as close to the truth as possible is my best course of action for now. Until I can clear my head enough to sort out how I want to handle this nightmare.
The sound of the penthouse door opening makes me jolt, and I whirl to face the stranger.
A heavyset, balding man in a charcoal gray suit strides toward me with confident steps that border on arrogance.
“Who are you?” All the warmth has drained from Officer Singh’s tone.
“I’m John Wells, Miss Foster’s solicitor,” he replies, his pale blue eyes fixing on me through his rectangular, black-rimmed glasses. “She’s done talking to you.”
The officer stiffens. “We’re simply having a conversation. Miss Foster isn’t under arrest.”
John stares her down. “And your conversation is over.” His gaze cuts to me. “Not another word, Miss Foster.” He gives Officer Singh a dismissive wave. “I’d like to be alone with my client.”
My head spins. I’ve never even heard of this man, and I have no idea how he knows about me.
But he’s offering me a reprieve from police questioning, so I’ll take it.
“Yes,” I assert. “I need to talk to Mr. Wells, please.”
“You are welcome to sit in and offer advice,” Officer Singh begins. “But I want to?—”
“What you want doesn’t matter.” He cuts her off in clipped tones. “Miss Foster has rights, and, as you said, she’s not under arrest. Give us the room.”
