So the cops were already suspicious of her. Thank goodness she’d already told Brock everything about Julie. “What do I do?”
Brock paused. “You need to go to the police station and make a statement, and do it now. I told Detective Norton that you’d be right down in order to prevent him from sending uniforms to escort you.”
Her stomach lurched. “Okay.”
“It gets worse. There’s now a conflict between my representing Jay and my representing you, and since I’m already his lawyer on this case…”
She nodded. “I understand. You can’t represent us both.”
“No. But I’ll call in a couple of favors and get you a lawyer from a different firm.” More papers rustled.
Her chest warmed. “You’re a good guy, Brock. Don’t worry about me. I can take care of it.” She had a couple of friends who worked at other firms, and she’d call them for recommendations. No way was she meeting with Detective Norton without representation.
“All right. The detective informed our senior partners of the case, so you’re suspended for the duration of the investigation.” Brock was silent for a minute. “I fought for an hour to make sure it’s with pay, so don’t worry about that. If you need anything, let me know. I’ll help if I can.” He clicked off.
She woodenly sat there for a moment.
“Everything okay?” Grams asked, looking up from her chili.
Zara nodded. “Yes. Just some business I need to take care of.” She quickly texted Ryker with a brief recap of what had happened. Then she started calling friends and leaving messages for them to call her back. Where was everybody? Geez.
Finally, she went into the master bathroom and freshened up, putting on pink lipstick and brushing her hair before slipping into a pencil skirt and warm sweater. The last thing she wanted was for uniformed police officers to start knocking on doors in her neighborhood looking for her. So she grabbed her coat and headed out to the living room. “I have to go take care of some things.”
Greg frowned. “It’s after eight at night.”
“I know.” Brock had promised the police she’d be down that night, and Detective Norton didn’t seem like a guy who’d just wait around for long. Zara tried to appear calm. She needed to throw up. “I’ll be back in a couple of hours.”
A knock sounded on the door, and Heath poked his head in. “Just got a text from some lawyer named Brock? Ryker had given him my number for some reason. Rumor has it you need your own lawyer.”
Grams pushed away from the counter. “A lawyer? Why would you need a lawyer? Is this about the break-in at your house?”
Greg turned around on the barstool, his chin lowering. “I can have you out of town and to a safe location within thirty minutes. Somewhere totally off the grid where they’ll never find you.”
Zara gaped at him. He was twelve years old, for goodness’ sake. “Um, thanks, but I think I’ll just go make a statement.” She hurried forward and kissed her grandmother on the cheek. “Oh. Grams, that’s Heath.”
Heath nodded.
“Nice to meet you,” Grams said, her eyebrows drawing down.
For good measure, Zara pecked a kiss on Greg’s cheek. “We’ll keep your idea for plan B,” she said with a smile.
His ears turned red, and he nodded.
She grabbed her purse and hustled toward Heath. “Don’t worry, you two. The police just want a statement from me, and then I’ll be home.” Hopefully. Were her prints at the murder scene enough probable cause to arrest her?
Heath closed the door behind them. “You can explain everything on the way to the station.”
She nodded. Ryker’s blood brother had shortish brown hair and stunning greenish brown eyes. He wore faded jeans, motorcycle boots, and a brown leather jacket, looking more like a badass biker than a lawyer. For some reason, that calmed her. “Where is Ryker?”
“On a case.” Heath led the way down to the stairs and pushed open the heavy door to the garage before stalking toward a decked-out black muscle car. “She’s solid enough she doesn’t really need snow tires yet. Hop in, Zara.”
Zara opened the door and slid onto black leather seats softer than a peach.
The car started with a loud purr. Heath backed out of his spot. “All right. Tell me everything, and start at the beginning.”
She took a deep breath and told her new attorney everything, trying not to notice how concerned his expression was by the time they reached the police station. “What do you think?” she finally asked.
He sighed and looked at her, his gaze beyond serious. “How do you feel about starting over somewhere else?”
*
Dr. Isobel Madison followed the crumbs along the Internet to a small Wyoming town called Cisco, her fingers clicking easily across the keyboard in her office. Oh, she kept her signature off her trace, and she made sure nobody knew she was calling.