“Maybe he’s confused and is making up a story because he’s embarrassed by his terrible police work. Not everyone can be as impressive as you two.” She smiled the sincere smile she’d perfected over hundreds of charity events.
“The officer wasn’t there for you. He only wanted Eva,” James said.
“What’s your point?”
“You wouldn’t be here right now if not for that little stunt you pulled,” Schilling said.
Bridget huffed and crossed her arms over her chest.
“We know it wasn’t an accident. Just tell us what happened,” James said.
She bit the inside of her cheek. “Someone told me once that sometimes we have to do things that are wrong because we’re protecting people who are right.” She uncrossed her arms and leaned against the stiff back of the metal chair. “I may have seen that in an Avengers movie. It’s a good line either way.”
“So you did it on purpose?” James asked.
Bridget pursed her lips and stayed silent.
“You wanted to give Eva a chance to get away, didn’t you?” Schilling asked.
The door opened and a well-dressed man entered. “I see you’ve already begun,” he said, adjusting his glasses.
“Didn’t know anyone else was joining us,” Schilling said. “Take a seat, Counselor…?”
“O’Brien.” The chair squealed as he pulled it across the tiled floor. “I’m here at the request of Miss Falling’s parents.” He leaned over to Bridget. “You don’t need to say anything else.”
Schilling glared at the lawyer before continuing. “Did Eva tell you something about what happened to Madeline Bailey? Is that why you wanted to protect her?”
“What, no? She didn’t even know her.”
“Miss Falling, please. There’s nothing you can say to help your friend,” O’Brien advised.
“But Eva didn’t have anything to do with any of that. And neither did Alek,” Bridget blurted.
“I think this interview is over.” O’Brien pressed away from the table and stood. “If you’re not charging my client with anything else, we’ll be on our way. You can address further questions to my office. Let’s go, Miss Falling,” he said, waiting at the door for Bridget.
“You won’t find out who did it. Even if you do, you won’t believe it,” she whispered before following her lawyer out of the dimly lit room.
Schilling threw down his pen and shoved his chair away from the table. “Fucking lawyers. Always making my job more difficult. She knows something, but we’ll never get it out of her with the army of suits her parents can afford.”
“I’m with you on Alek being guilty. But I’m not on board with Eva being a murderer.” James’s phone beeped with an incoming message. “It’s Winslow,” he said, reading the text. “An off-duty officer spotted Alek. She’s waiting for us there.”
Thirty-One
Storm clouds hung low and painted the Oklahoma sky gray. They spit rain from their pregnant puffs and echoed rumbles of thunder. Trapped beneath the thick blanket of clouds, the sun’s rays still illuminated the earth with a sickly yellow. Tall grass, golden from months of heat, bowed to each pulse of wind. Lightning dissected the churning skies and slapped the soil with a crack. Sparks flew from the flowerbed lining the front of Bridget’s country house.
“Oh, fuck,” Alek groaned, rolling up to a seated position. He wiped his dirty hands off on his jeans and removed pieces of mulch from his hair before standing. “I need to get better at that.” Hunching his shoulders against sheets of rain, he trudged through the bushes to the front porch. Thunder rumbled as he clenched his fist and pounded on the door. “Eva, I’ve returned.” Water beat steadily on the roof as he waited for a response. “Eva.” He knocked again and shuffled to the etched windows bordering the door. The house was dark and still except for the shadows of rain snaking across the floor. He jiggled the handle and thrust his weight against the door. It tore away from its hinges, and fell against the smooth stone entryway.
“The Mortal Realm is in need of better craftsmen,” he mumbled, picking up the door and resting it against the wall.
“Eva, are you here?” he shouted. Muddy footprints followed him as he sped through the house, searching each room for the Oracle.
“Why did you not listen?” He balled his fist and thumped it against the kitchen wall. The phone fell off the receiver and drywall dust floated to the floor. Alek picked up the phone. The battery swung from colorful cords, and he stuffed them back into the base. He flipped it over and stared at the call button. “Bridget.” He dug in his pocket and pulled out the crinkled gum wrapper she’d given him the night before. He punched in the numbers and held his breath as it rang.
“Who is this and why are you in my house?” she snapped.
“It is where I left Eva,” he explained.
“Alek?” she asked, her voice softer.
He nodded before realizing she couldn’t see him. “Yes, I’m in need of your assistance.”
“I can’t really talk to you right now,” she whispered.