Page 89 of Sweet Sin

That someone was me.

I had no other choice.

I didn’t fire the shot, but it came from my gun.

And I was the only one who could survive what was coming.

My attorney, Lola Briggs, is dressed in a tight-ass navy blue suit. I hate suits on women. I’m not overly fond of them on men, either. They’re uncomfortable as hell. I loosen my tie a bit…or try to. It doesn’t help. I still feel my throat tightening, as if a boa constrictor is squeezing the breath out of me. Snakes are always bad news.

Lola though, is good news. She’s worked for my family for twenty years, and she’s a fucking shark. But even she couldn’t save me the last time.

This time I’m actually guilty, though not of a crime.

“If the question can be answered with yes or no,” Lola says to me, “that’s all you say.”

I nod. “Got it.”

“If I tell you not to answer, you don’t.”

“Got it.”

“They’ll try to bait you, Falcon. They’ll make you want to defend yourself. Still, if I say don’t answer, you don’t.”

“Yes, ma’am.” I salute.

“Leave the jokes outside,” Lola says. “They won’t serve you well in here. As far as these detectives are concerned, you’re a confessed killer already. That’s how they’re going to treat you.”

“I served my time for that one.”

“You did. But that’s not what cops see. Once a con, always a con.”

I nod, drawing in a breath.

She’s right. I hate it, but she’s right.

The two suits enter, one male, one female. Lola and I rise, and Lola holds out her hand first to the woman, her eyebrows noticeably raised.

“Gina, Marvin, good to see you. This is Falcon Bellamy. Falcon, Detectives Gina Mulvaney and Marv Ericson.”

I don’t shake hands, simply nod.

“Please sit back down.” Detective Mulvaney takes a seat on the other side of the empty table and Detective Ericson sits next to her. Both have manilla folders and iPads.

Detective Mulvaney clears her throat. “Mr. Bellamy, I’m sure your attorney has advised you that this is simple routine questioning. You’re not under arrest or even a suspect at this time.”

“I understand.”

“Good. Now, could you begin by telling me when you first noticed the two victims—”

“Excuse me.” Lola interjects. “Victims? They were trespassers.”

“It’s simply a word, Lola.”

“Words have meaning, Gina. One is recovering, and the other didn’t make it. However, we don’t even know yet what the cause of his death was.”

“We do now.” Mulvaney slides a document across the table to Lola. “Official cause of death is a brain bleed, caused by the blow to the head the victim received by your client.”

“The trespasser also had a history of concussion and the bleed wasn’t even noticed on the initial MRI,” Lola counters as she scans the document. “Nothing in this report says the blow to the head Mr. Josephs received was the cause of death.”

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