“Ah, Josie? How about letting me do the talking with the detective?” The door shut with a soft click, and Shane gestured her forward.
“Why?” She was perfectly capable of answering questions from the police. Not only had she done nothing wrong, but she’d grown up in foster care. Dealing with authority and its agenda was nothing new for her.
Shane opened the door. “I have a feeling Malloy is after something. I don’t like that he didn’t tell you any details about his new developments.”
She was surrounded by manipulative people keeping hidden agendas, and that included Shane. Even if the amnesia was real, he wasn’t exactly forthcoming with the truth.
The waiting room of the police station held two leather couches, a myriad of live plants, and several wide orange chairs. Homey and comfortable. A slice of small town in a city that had grown unexpectedly. A forty-something woman with riotous red hair sat behind a broad counter walled off by thick glass, humming contentedly through the night shift. Behind her spread a wall of photos depicting police officers at various award ceremonies. She smiled and spoke through the speaker, her voice emerging tinny. “May I help you?”
Shane stepped forward to answer just as a buzzer rasped and a door opened next to the counter. Malloy held it open with one beefy hand. “Come on in.”
Josie pivoted to walk into a wide, quiet hallway. Shane’s broad hand settled at the small of her back, pressing her along. Possessive and protective—completely in charge. She’d forgotten that feeling of being his.
Several closed doors lined the hall as the three approached a large double door that blocked the hub of the police station from the public. Malloy pushed open a scratched metal door, gesturing them inside a conference room with a thick oak table and leather chairs. Josie slid into the chair Shane pulled out for her, glancing at the pleasant watercolor of a snowy mountain scene adorning the side wall. “Where’s the two-way mirror?” she asked.
Malloy snorted, walking around the table to sit and drop manila folders on the polished wood. “The interrogation rooms are closer to the cells. This is just a meeting room.”
Shane sat next to Josie. “Right. Exactly what are we meeting about, Detective?”
Josie leaned back in her chair and away from the comfort she’d find leaning into Shane.
Malloy rubbed his chin, studying them with shrewd and tired-looking eyes. He’d discarded the rumpled suit coat and old tie, rolling his shirt up to reveal dark hair along his arms. He focused on Shane. “Have any of your memories returned?”
“Not yet, but they will.” Shane ignored Josie’s move away and reached out to place one broad arm across her shoulders. “Have you heard from Pendleton?”
“Not yet, but I will,” the detective parroted Shane’s tone. He eyed Josie. “When you were married, did your husband ever talk about his skill set in the military?”
The arm around her shoulders stiffened, but Shane’s body remained relaxed and his expression unconcerned. Josie stilled. “No. Shane didn’t talk about his past, about his future, or about his job, Detective. I believe we’ve covered this.” Admitting her marriage was a sham settled like a rock in her stomach. She crossed her legs. “Why do you ask?”
Malloy glanced at Shane and flipped open a file, taking out three photographs to place on the table. “I ask because we found three dead bodies down by the river a couple hours ago.”
Josie sucked in air, her gaze glued to the pictures of dead men lying on metal slabs, their bodies covered by flimsy sheets. Just like on television. Shock set off a roaring in her ears. “Who are they?” she croaked out.
Malloy shrugged. “We don’t know yet. But a preliminary examination shows the first two died from broken necks.” His finger tapped on the third picture of a man with mottled bruises and cuts marring his face. “This guy probably died from an intense beating that crushed his skull—we’ll know more after the autopsies tomorrow.” The detective glanced at the damaged knuckles of Shane’s hand resting on the table.
“Any forensics?” Shane’s voice remained pleasant and unconcerned.
“Not yet. But I’m sure we’ll find something.” Malloy raised an eyebrow. “Do either of you recognize these men?”
Josie studied the pictures, a lump forming in her throat. Had Shane killed three men with his bare hands? Was he capable of such an act? Her skin pricked with awareness and a new sense of self-preservation. She didn’t know the man she’d married. “I don’t recognize them.”
Shane’s hand settled at her nape.
She jumped.
Malloy’s eyes narrowed.
Shane rubbed her neck in soothing circles that failed to soothe. “I don’t know them.”
“We found a baseball bat near one of them.” Malloy took out a picture of a metal slugger. “It was in the river, but we’ll find prints on the handle.”
Shane shrugged. “We both know you already printed the bat, and if you’d found any, you’d have said so.”