“I understand that,” she says, and I almost detect a hint of empathy, but not an ounce of reluctance to send me. “But what’s the first rule of thumb in any criminal case when a suspect is being interrogated by the police?”
“Don’t talk without an attorney,” I say automatically.
“Exactly,” she praises as she walks around her desk toward me. “And would you ever let a client talk to the police?”
“Not until I found out what happened from the client,” I say.
“Well, there you go,” she says with a nod. “Get over there and talk to Evan. Find out what happened. Find out what the police have in the way of evidence. If you feel confident to let him talk, do so, but be prepared to jump in if anything sounds fishy. I’m quite sure they have nothing at this point to make an arrest, so he should be walking out with you.”
I nod, my head spinning with her advice and also a strange tingling low in my belly that is either nerves, indigestion, or perhaps it’s the prospect of meeting Evan Scott.
I’m actually going over to the police station where I’ll be given an officious visitor’s badge and sit in an interrogation room with an observation window that looks like a mirror, but every suspect and attorney knows it’s see through so they can watch and judge body language.
Midge gives a subtle nod toward the door, my cue that I need to get going. I turn away from her, but she stops me. “Oh, and Emma…”
I turn to look at her with raised eyebrows.
“I’m also going to make you point of contact for all media inquiries. I expect there will be a circus if he gets arrested,” she tells me.
“But…”
“No ‘buts’,” she admonishes and turns her back on me as she walks to her chair. “When you get done today, have Evan call me.”
“Call you?” I ask, confused as to why she would ever request such a thing.
She reaches her chair, turns, and sits down, leveling me a grim smile. “He’s my nephew. I want to talk to him and make sure he’s okay.”
“Your nephew?” I ask—okay, practically screech.
She chuckles, and wow… she’s even more beautiful when she laughs. “Yes, my nephew. My very dear nephew who I’m exceptionally close to.”
Is that a warning not to fuck this up?
That tingling in my stomach turns to nausea. “But… why aren’t you representing him? You’re like the best attorney in the state.”
“At this point, I believe you can handle this,” she says calmly, and then picks up a file from the corner of her desk. I watch as she lays it before her, opens it and starts reading a document.
She doesn’t say anything else to me either.
In essence, I’ve been dismissed.
CHAPTER 3
Evan
It’s actually cliché.
Small room with a lone square table in the middle. Two chairs, one on each side. Fluorescent light above that flickers periodically. Obvious darkened mirror-glass cut into the wall that reflects the stark interior to me, but clearly lets them watch me unobtrusively. Although they probably aren’t watching me, as I’m doing nothing more than staring at my clasped hands on the tabletop.
They led me in here about fifteen minutes ago, asked me if I wanted anything to drink, which I declined because I’ve seen enough Law & Order during my poor, struggling years as a musician to know they’d steal my DNA from the cup when I was done.
I haven’t seen them since. I’m thinking the fact I called my aunt Midge from the backseat of their unmarked car on the way to the station has something to do with that.
I didn’t have to admit to her on the phone that I was a little wigged out. She could hear it in my voice and reassured me, “It’ll be fine. I’ll handle everything.”
After I hung up, I told the two detectives I wouldn’t be giving a statement until my attorney arrived. Turnbull was driving and Kasick turned to look at me over his shoulder. “Who’s your attorney?”
“Midge Payne,” I said and wasn’t surprised when Kasick’s eyes flared wide.
“Guess a music star deserves a hot-shot attorney, huh?” he said to Turnbull as he turned back to face the front.
“She’s my aunt,” I muttered, but they didn’t say anything in response.
And other than the offer of something to drink, I haven’t heard a peep. Perhaps Midge was out there right now waving some magic jurisprudence around that would make this all go away.
I hear the door behind me open and I turn slightly in my chair to look, expecting either one of the detectives or Midge to be walking through. Instead, a short, petite woman dressed in a prim black suit walks in carrying a slim briefcase. I immediately peg her as an attorney, although for the life of me, I have no clue why she’s in this room with me as she’s most definitely not my attorney.
She is hot though, I’ll give her that.