Hours rolled by before I was allowed a phone call. I’d declined anything to drink, so I sat alone with my thoughts in the tiny room with white cement blocks and no windows. I assumed Layne was in a little space similar to mine.
As much as I hated to, I called Benji. I knew his parents could help with a lawyer. I would work my ass off to pay them back, but I also doubted they would think I’d done anything wrong other than fall in love with a piece of shit.
Before an attorney arrived, the door swung open, and a handsome, well-dressed man stepped inside. His green eyes, offset by his dark complexion, caught me off guard. His chiseled jaw, perfectly proportioned cheekbones, and full mouth left me mentally panting. These people were nuts. They had to have hired an actor to pretend to be a detective because this guy was way too pretty. Maybe they thought I would roll over and spill my guts because he was possibly the hottest guy I’d ever seen.
“Victoria,” he said, pulling out the chair across the table from me.
I pursed my lips and crossed my arms over my chest. That wasn’t my name, and they needed to get their facts straightened out.
“I’m Detective Jacobs.” He folded his large hands on the table and had the audacity to smile at me.
This isn’t a party, dude. Go sweet-talk someone else.
“I understand you lawyered up, and he should be here shortly. I spoke with Michael and Marilyn Parker, who insisted they wait here at the station for you.”
I heaved a sigh of relief. Help was on the way.
“I also learned that you and your friend Benji Parker were brutally attacked a few months ago. I wanted to let you know the men who were responsible will be charged with first-degree aggravated assault and first-degree attempted rape. Hate crimes are not taken lightly in Washington, plus it’s a federal offense. They will pay for what they did.”
“Really? Oh my God, that’s wonderful news!” I slapped my hand over my mouth. Dammit. He was good. He was trying to connect with me so I would confess to whatever crap I didn’t do.
“I thought you’d appreciate having that information. Michael, Marilyn, and Benji also know.”
At least the attackers weren’t able to walk away after what they’d done to Benji, but neither was he.
He raised one beautifully arched brow at me. “Now, why don’t we cut all the bullshit and just have a chat?”
The door swung open, startling me.
“You’re not harassing my client, are you?” A stunning man with beautiful blue eyes closed the door behind him. He smoothed his red tie, which complemented his expensive black suit, and walked toward me. I’d heard the term silver fox before, but I hadn’t seen any until now. Jiminy Christmas. Where do they hide these men?
Detective Jacobs flashed a reassuring smile at my new lawyer. “No. I was just giving her some good news concerning the men who assaulted her and her best friend a few months ago.”
My attorney harrumphed and sat in the seat next to me. His kind blue eyes searched mine. “Are you all right? Were they coercing you to talk? Were you manhandled at all?”
“No, sir. I’m okay. I just don’t understand what’s going on.”
“My name is Franklin Harrington. Michael and Marilyn retained me, so I’m at your service.” Why does the name Harrington sound so familiar?
He patted me on the back and gave me a gentle smile before he turned toward the detective. His expression morphed into something more eager, as though the hunter had just become the prey, and his laser focus homed in on Detective Jacobs.
I almost giggled, partly out of nerves, but also because I knew that Michael and Marilyn would never screw around with my life by hiring a shitty attorney. I owed them big.
Franklin rubbed his chin, then folded his hands on the table and mimicked Detective Jacobs’s body language. The tension was palpable in the little room, and I struggled to suppress my leg from bouncing.
“What’s this about?” Franklin asked. “The FBI storms into my client’s home for what exactly?”
The detective didn’t flinch as he responded. “We had probable cause.”
“I certainly hope you can back it up, because if not, my client will sue the department for breaking and entering, invasion of privacy, sexual assault, and anything else I can think of. I’ll have you all so buried in paperwork, you’ll never see another vacation.”
Damn. Franklin wasn’t playing.
Detective Jacobs slapped a manila envelope on the table and slid it to me.
Franklin gently moved my hand away and pulled it toward him. “Don’t say a word until you and I have an opportunity to talk. Let me handle everything until you’re released.”
I nodded my agreement, secretly relieved he was taking care of me.
Franklin moved the folder, blocking my view, and opened it. His expression never changed as he sifted through the contents. When he was finished, he slapped it on the table and slid it toward me. “What’s this have to do with my client?”
I lifted the flap of the envelope and peered at the pictures. The color drained from my face as I sifted through the first three, then set them down. My stomach churned, and I willed myself not to vomit.
The detective leaned back in his seat, his eyes never leaving me. “Does the name Jack Flannery mean anything to you?”
I racked my brain for any recollection, but I had no clue who Jack Flannery was. In fact, no one had mentioned his name to me in the past or recently. With each second that ticked by, I was growing more and more confused.
“Of course it does,” Franklin retorted. “He’s on the national news for murders in eleven states.”
Fuck. Murder? Eleven states? I dug my fingernails into my leg. My yoga pants didn’t provide any protection from the self-inflicted pain. Under no circumstances could I say anything. This had suddenly become more serious than I’d speculated. Terror ripped through me.
What if Layne used an alias? What if Layne is Jack Flannery? Have I just given my heart and body to a serial killer?
16
No matter how hard I tried, my breaths came in short bursts.
Franklin turned toward me, his eyebrow arching. “I need some time with my client.”
Detective Jacobs grinned like he’d just caught the mouse he’d been hunting. “You got it.” He stood and left the room.
“Tensley, there are cameras in here, but I need to know if you’re all right.”
I fanned my face as beads of perspiration trickled down my spine. “What if—”
“Whisper it in my ear.” Franklin leaned into me.
“Is my boyfriend Jack Flannery? Did he murder people? I thought his name was Layne Garrison.” Tears streamed down my cheeks, and I buried my face in my hands as the harsh reality squeezed the life out of my heart, and I broke into sobs.
Franklin patted my hand. “I have a son and daughter your age. I’d do anything for them, protect them from any harm. In fact, I have, but that’s a story for another day. You might actually be familiar with the music group August Clover.”
“What?” I hiccupped. “They’re one of my favorite groups. You’re Hendrix Harrington’s father? And you know Gemma?” For a moment, my mind was distracted from the hell I was in the middle of.