Nikki searched Holly’s face for a tell. The cop in her lived every waking hour on alert for one. Something to let her know more than what was being said. An indication that this was a lie. Or, if it wasn’t, what the woman felt about the information she was giving. Detective Heat worked in a business where people constantly bullshitted her. Nine times out of ten, it was only a matter of how much. Looking for the tell and, especially, being able to read it, helped her figure out the degree of dishonesty.
Hers was a beautiful world.
The feedback on Holly Flanders came across the Interrogation Room table to Nikki from a face clouded by a storm of mixed emotions, but it felt like the truth. Or some version of it. When Holly broke eye contact to chip away at her nails some more, Heat turned beside her and gave Rook an arched brow. The writer should have no trouble reading her tell. It said, Well, Mr. Ride-along?
“I didn’t know Cassidy Towne had any children.” He took a soft tone, sensitive to the girl. Or maybe because he was feeling defensive.
“Neither did she,” Holly spat back. “She got knocked up and basically disowned me.”
“Let’s slow this down here, Holly,” said the detective. “Walk me through this because this is pretty new and pretty big to me.”
“What’s hard to understand? What are you, stupid? You’re a cop, figure it out. I was her ‘love child.’ ” She put a stink on the term as years of anger spilled out of her. “I was her bastard, her dirty little secret, and she couldn’t wait to sweep me under the rug. She had me placed before my frickin’ umbilical fell off practically. Well, now she doesn’t need to pretend I don’t exist. Or to refuse me any support because she’s ashamed of me, like I’m some constant reminder of how she screwed up. Of course you didn’t know. She didn’t want anybody to know. How can you be the ball-busting queen of scandal when you’ve got a scandal of your own?”
The young woman wanted to cry, but instead she sat back in her chair, panting off her rant as if she had run a sprint. Or gotten startled awake again from the same nightmare.
“Holly, I know this is difficult, but I need to ask you some questions.” To Heat, Holly Flanders was still a murder suspect, but she proceeded with a quiet empathy. If Cassidy Towne was indeed her mother, Nikki had a personal feeling for Holly’s position as the daughter of a murder victim. Assuming, of course, she hadn’t killed her.
“Like I have a choice?”
“Your last name is Flanders, not Towne. Is that the name of your father?”
“It was the last name of one of my foster families. Flanders is an OK name. At least it’s not Madoff. What would people think about me then?”
Detective Heat brought Holly back to her agenda. “Do you know who your father is?” Holly just shook her head. Nikki continued. “Did your mother?”
“She got laid a lot, I guess.” Holly gestured, acknowledging herself. “Family trait, right? If she knew, she didn’t ever say.”
“And you never had any inkling who?” Nikki was pressing the point because a paternity situation could point to a motive. Holly only shrugged, and the tell was a dodge.
Rook read it, too. “You know, I didn’t know who my father was, either.” Nikki reacted to this disclosure. Holly canted her head to him slightly, showing her first sign of interest. “God’s truth. And I know firsthand how you form your life around that missing space. It colors everything. And I can’t imagine, Holly, that any normal person, especially one as ballsy as you, wouldn’t have at least done some checking to see.”
Nikki felt the conversation enter a new phase. Holly Flanders spoke directly to Rook. “I did some math,” she said. “You know.”