Her feet were cold in her black suede shoes, and her heels clacked on the sidewalk as she took a step toward him. He looked in both directions, flipped the door closed, then crossed the street.
Jesus, she hadn’t known the man could scowl like that. Her heart pounded. She wondered how long he’d been sitting outside her house. All night like a chivalrous Sir Lancelot?
Not. He wouldn’t have sent Junior Cop if he had been. At least, she hoped not.
If he’d so much as spotted Nick, he’d have taken him in for questioning.
He might also have guessed what she’d let Nick do on the stairs. Her stomach somersaulted. She didn’t want him to know that, not ever. Shame, fear, call it what you like, she didn’t want Witt to know she was a slut.
He stopped two feet from her, and still said nothing. She itched to wipe her palms down her jacket. With him in the street and her on the sidewalk, they were almost of a height, yet the man made her feel two feet tall.
“Watching over me, Detective? Why, thank you.” Perfect. Nice breezy tone, just a tad flippant.
He didn’t answer, instead he whipped out his trusty notebook from his shirt pocket and flipped it open.
Max knew she was in trouble when he started to read in a flat monotone. “After leaving the alleged near hit-and-run victim’s residence at approximately seven p.m., I obtained dinner at the Burger King two blocks north on Fifth. I returned to the residence forty-five minutes later and set up surveillance one-half block down. I noted that the same vehicles were parked on the street as when I left, and the light in the alleged victim’s apartment was on.” As he spoke, he stared at her, his gaze sharp enough to fillet the flesh from her bones.
He snapped the book with a flick of his wrist and the page flipped over. She could have sworn he read from blank paper. A muscle ticked near his eye.
“At approximately nine o’clock, I observed the suspect leaving the residence.”
“What suspect?” She went the surprised route. It didn’t work.
Witt narrowed his eyes. He was a dangerous man with those eyes. “The suspect crossed the driveway and entered a red pickup parked on the street outside the alleged victim’s domicile.”
Oh God. “Could you quit calling me the ‘alleged’ victim?”
“No crime has been established at this point.”
“You saw the car try to run me down.”
“I saw a vehicle heading in your direction. The rest was assumed.”
Their roles had reversed. Yesterday, he’d been trying to convince her. “Stuff it, Long, I don’t have to listen.”
She sidestepped him to her car. He moved fast, planting himself between her and escape. Her heart pounded. She told herself it wasn’t guilt. Or shame.
“I followed the suspect.”
“Jesus, some bodyguard you are. What if I’d been bleeding to death up there?”
“I called a contact in the local department who dispatched a patrol car to the residence to check on the alleged victim.”
So that’s why the cop had shown up last night. She didn’t know which pissed her off more—that he hadn’t bothered to check on her himself or that he probably knew exactly what she’d been doing up there with the “suspect.”
Her secret was out. He knew she was a slut. Oh well. She could handle it. Couldn’t she?
He gave up all pretense of reading his notebook. His eyes bored a hole right through her forehead. “I followed the suspect to the station located on the corner of Fifth and Grand. He parked his vehicle and upon entering the facility, turned himself in to the watch commander.”
Her skin turned to icicles, her fingers numbed. “What?”
“Nicholas Drake surrendered to the watch commander, waved his rights, and confessed to the murders of Wendy Gregory and Lilah Bloom, and to the attempted murder of Max Starr.”
“That’s not true.”
“He stated that he’d gone to the alleged victim’s house intending to kill her, and that she convinced him to turn himself in. He further stated that on the night of September third, he met Wendy Gregory at the San Francisco Airport after returning with his children from a trip to his parent’s home in Boise. He followed the victim to her car located in the long term lot, had consensual sex with her, then killed her when she threatened to tell his wife about their affair.”
Panic and laughter rose in her throat all at once. “That’s ridiculous. He’s divorcing his wife.”
“He stated that he had intended a reconciliation with his wife. When he told this to Wendy Gregory, she became agitated, threatened him, at which point he strangled her.”
She backed away from him. “Will you quit talking like that?”