“I’m repeating the report. The suspect confirmed that Lilah Bloom blackmailed him over information Wendy had related to her. He stated that he killed her to avoid paying the blackmail, which he didn’t have anyway. The suspect also stated that upon learning of Max Starr’s interest in the murder victim, he began watching her. When he believed her to be a threat, he faked the theft of his own vehicle from his wife’s current place of residence and used it in the attempted hit-and-run.”
“Can’t you see how ridiculous it all sounds?” In one swift motion, Nick had cleared her of any wrong-doing, and he’d covered for his wife.
Protector to the bitter end.
None of what he’d said in his statement was true. Bud Traynor was responsible for what happened to Wendy. Not that Nick couldn’t be manipulated, but after everything he’d told her last night, Max didn’t think he’d be drawn into Bud’s web as easily as...say...his wife Carla.
“We have a confession. The inconsistencies in his statement will be ironed out.”
“You mean they’ll be ignored.”
“Like you ignored the law, Max?”
It was the first time in the entire exchange that he’d actually talked to her instead of at her. At that moment, he frightened her. He was big, he was close, and he smelled of righteous male anger.
She bristled. “Detective Long’s Law?”
“California law. Aiding and abetting a fugitive.”
“There wasn’t even a warrant out for his arrest.”
“How about obstruction of justice?”
“How can I be obstructing? I don’t know anything.”
“You always have an answer. Why did you cover for him?”
She couldn’t help the rising level of her voice. “I never even knew where he was. He was the one watching me, not the other way round.”
“Why did you lie for him?”
“I never told you any lies. I didn’t believe he killed her right from the beginning.”
“Why are you so interested in him?”
“Oh for Christ’s sake, you sound like Cameron.”
“Your late husband?”
The man had a memory like a steel trap. “Yes, my late husband.”
Everything was late, too late. Her anger seemed to fizzle. Her shoulders threatened to slump. If she’d been alone, she’d have gone back to bed and pulled the blankets over her head.
“You know Nicholas Drake is covering for...someone.” She wanted to blurt out that it was his wife, but she owed Nick at least the respect of keeping that thought to herself. For now.
Witt’s voice had an ounce of tenderness when he spoke again. Apology was in his tone, if not his words. Thankfully, he didn’t ask how long since she’d last talked to Cameron. “Off the record, Max, I agree with you. Inconsistencies are a challenge. I’ll find the answers.”
“But you won’t release him?”
“It’s not my decision.”
He closed his notebook and stuffed it back in his pocket. His suit was rumpled, his tie askew, and his eyes red and tired. He’d probably been up all night. She felt the slightest bit of sympathy for him, for the job he had to do.
“How many times did you see Drake after the victim’s death?”
She didn’t have to count. “Six.”
“Where and when?”
“At the...Kentucky Fried Chicken you took me to.” Damn, she’d almost blown it and placed him at the airport. “He was across the street. Then I saw him at the Round Up. A dance place I go to,” she added when he raised an eyebrow, and had the sense he knew she went there for a lot more than dancing. “I think he was at the funeral, but I can’t be sure. I saw him outside the grocery store once. And then...last night.” She didn’t mention Nick had been at Lilah Bloom’s nail shop. After all, she hadn’t actually seen him; he’d merely said he’d seen her.
“What about your dreams, Max? Your psychic visions?”
She wasn’t a hundred percent ready to tackle that argument right now. Instead she denied it. “I told you before, I’m not psychic. I just had a dream, that’s all. Besides, cops don’t believe in that kind of stuff.”
“I either have to believe in it, or I have to believe you killed Lilah Bloom. You knew way too much for any other explanation. Which one do you prefer, Max?”
“Neither.”
He didn’t push the issue. “That was only five. The sixth?”
“What?” Damn, she should have known he’d been counting.
“The sixth time you saw him.”
“It must have been five.”
“Was it at the airport?”
“I was never at the airport.”
He put his hand to his notepad. “Do I need to look up the date and time your car was caught on video tape?”
Busted. “All right, I saw him.”
His eyes narrowed. “Why do you keep holding back?”
She had the feeling he was talking about far more than information regarding Nick. But she wasn’t about to touch that thought with a ten-foot pole. “I forgot about that.”
He pushed aside his jacket, put his hands on his hips, and shook his head. “Tell me the truth. All of it.”