“You okay?” Ryker asked.
She nodded. “Yeah, but Mrs. O. saw lights on at my place last night. Do you think those guys in black came back?”
Ryker frowned. “I don’t know. How about we get you back to my apartment, and then I can come take a look around?”
She shook her head, shoving everything into the glove compartment. She’d go through her bills later. “Let’s look around now.”
“No.” Ryker reversed the truck onto the street, his control firmly back in place. “Sorry, baby. There’s too much going on right now, and I need to get you to safety.”
She opened her mouth to argue, but he quickly shook his head. What the hell? She could help search her own house, for goodness’ sake. “We’re going to have to work on this Neanderthal issue you have going on,” she muttered.
“Humph.” He pulled out onto the main thoroughfare and glared through the windshield. “I think the storm is actually getting worse.”
She shivered and flipped the knob to turn up the heat on her seat. “You guys won’t be able to fly in this.”
A siren blared through the air. Ryker leaned to glance in the rearview mirror. “Damn it.”
He slowly pulled the truck to a safe area off the road.
Zara tensed and looked around. The black car behind them wasn’t a patrol car, but it had a light in the dash and a siren. Her breath caught, and adrenaline sped through her veins. “You weren’t speeding.”
“No.” Ryker leaned over and opened the glove box, shoving Zara’s mail out of the way, to retrieve a stack of papers before sliding his window down.
Men walked up on both sides of the truck.
Her door opened. Ryker grasped her, and tugged her toward him, but a gun suddenly appeared near his ear. He stiffened.
“Zara Remington? You’re under arrest for the murder of Julie Pentley.” Detective Norton reached in and took her arm. “Please exit the vehicle.”
She coughed and let go of Ryker’s arm. Panic and shock buzzed through her mind. “I didn’t kill Julie,” she whispered as the detective assisted her into the cold. He turned her around and quickly snapped cuffs on her wrists. The metal was cold and bit into her skin.
Fury lit Ryker’s eyes, but with the gun at his temple, there wasn’t much he could do. “Don’t say anything until your attorney shows up,” he ground out.
Dazed, Zara gulped in air. “I won’t.”
Norton turned her, almost gently, toward his car. “You have the right to remain silent.” As he continued with her rights, she blanked out, her mind spinning.
What now? Her shoulders shook, and her knees weakened.
The detective guided her into the back of his car and shut the door before taking the driver’s seat. The officer with the gun then slipped into the other seat.
Silence ruled the car as Norton drove through the blustering storm to the police department. Zara endured being fingerprinted and then sat in a cell for about fifteen minutes before Norton fetched her. She entered a different interrogation room from last time. This one was cold and stark with one of those one-way mirrors she’d seen only on television. From a metal table, Norton pulled out a metal chair for her, facing the mirror.
She swallowed and sat, trying not to shiver.
He took the seat across from her, his brown eyes somber. “We know you did it.”
She blinked.
“The only motive I can think of is that you were still in love with the mayor.” Norton tapped a manila file on the table. “Or maybe Julie came at you, full of drugs, and you had to defend yourself? If so, tell me. I want to help you, but you need to help me first.”
Right. “I didn’t kill Julie, and I wasn’t present when she died.” Zara sat back and crossed her arms, her voice trembling. “I’m not saying another word until my lawyer arrives.” She knew the detective’s goal was to get her talking about anything and then catch her in some sort of mistake. Since she hadn’t killed Julie, she shouldn’t be afraid, but she knew better than to speak without Heath present.
“That’s your choice.” Norton also sat back. “But when your fast-talking attorney gets here, I won’t be able to help you.”
Like he really wanted to help her.
“Did Julie leave you anything? Any proof that you were her friend, not a jealous rival?” the detective asked.
“I gave her three thousand dollars a month to help her with bills,” Zara burst out. “Why do that if it wasn’t for friendship?”
The door opened. “Stop talking.” Heath strode inside and immediately shrugged out of a snow-covered jacket and placed it on the back of his chair. He wore a black button-down shirt, faded jeans, motorcycle boots, and a pissed-off expression on his handsome face, and his light brown hair was ruffled and sprinkled with snow.