“Third, you can let me go home, you’re wasting your time and mine.”
“You know I can’t do that.”
“Can’t do what?” Another man appeared in the doorway, as if he’d melted through the door without either Lara or Detective Carter noticing. Detective Carter stiffened and jerked his head behind him.
“Mrs. Angelov, I’d like to introduce you to Cassius Broxsby. He’s consulting on this case.”
Lara’s gaze shifted to Cassius as he flowed from the doorway. His glowing dark eyes slid over her face, as if memorizing the details. Wordlessly, he pulled out the chair between Lara and Detective Carter, and sat, folding his hands on the table.
“Is there anything you’d like to add before I start the interview?” Detective Carter muttered, his eyes flicked to Cassius, who shook his head, keeping his gaze on Lara.
“Why is he consulting on the case?” Lara asked, unable to look away from Cassius.
“He has a certain ‘expertise’ that is invaluable when it comes to these types of investigations,” Detective Carter replied, a threatening undercurrent in his words, as if he were warning her that Cassius would ferret out all her dark secrets.
“What types?” Frowning, Lara forced her gaze to Detective Carter.
“Unusual circumstances.”
“James fell out of a window. It’s a tragedy, not murder.”
“I didn’t say murder,” Detective Carter tilted his head, a smirk pulled the corner of his mouth. “Did you hear me say that word, Mr. Broxsby?”
“No, I did not,” Cassius replied, his deep voice wrapped around Lara, blanketing her in a strange numbness. His hypnotic voice drew her attention. “Why don’t you tell us what happened today?”
Nodding, Lara shifted in her chair, an unconscious movement, which angled her body more toward Cassius, and licked her lips; Milo’s voice echoed in her mind... Lie.
“James proposed to me last night.” She held up her hand, showing them the ring, which she remembered to grab before running out to his impaled body. “He had an early morning appointment, so he asked if he could meet me for our first brunch together as ‘almost’ husband and wife.”
Detective Carter’s head bobbed along with her story, appearing convinced, but Cassius’ stone face was unreadable. Did he believe her?
“I was working in the attic, making some space for James.” She glanced at Detective Carter. “Since I have the house, James was going to give up his apartment and move in with me.”
“Is that confirmed?” Cassius asked, the quiet question caused Lara’s heart to stutter.
Scanning down the report, Detective Carter nodded. “According to her interview, the victim had given notice to his landlady just this morning. He was overjoyed at the prospect—” Detective Carter flipped the page over “—of his new life. That was a direct quote.”
“I assume the attic is the room your fiancé fell from before he landed on the fence.” Cassius turned back to Lara.
“It was.” She swallowed. His unwavering gaze bore into her eyes, as if he could read her thoughts. “When James arrived, I called down from the attic and asked for his help lifting several cardboard boxes I had knocked over. He climbed into the attic and picked up two boxes at the same time, but the stack was so high, he couldn’t see over the top.”
Sell it, Lara.
“He was following the sound of my voice.” She sniffed and daubed her fingertips beneath her eyes, collecting tears. “He didn’t see the other box. He tripped, lost his balance, and stumbled backward. Dropping the boxes, he spun around, flailing his arms as he tried to regain his balance, but he couldn’t stop himself—” Her voice cracked.
“Is that when he fell through the window?” Detective Carter interrupted.
“Yes.”
“Then, how do you explain why there are no injuries to his hands? A normal person would have flung up their arms to protect their face.” Detective Carter slammed down the file, scattering crime scene photographs across the table in a random trail of gore.
Lara flinched. Her gaze dropped to the photos, a gasp hovering in her throat. Intermixed with the pictures of James’s body were photos of Max’s and Tyler’s corpses; all three men wore the same horrified expression. Reaching out, she flicked the corner of the nearest picture away, sending it skating back toward Detective Carter.
“A normal detective wouldn't have shown a grieving woman graphic pictures of her fiancés’ corpses!” Anger echoed off the walls. She leaned forward, her hands curled around the edge of the table, the muscle in her jaw twitching.
“Please forgive Detective Carter,” Cassius said, gathering the photographs into a messy stack. His mesmeric voice glided over Lara, tamping the ire boiling in her stomach. “He forgets that we are all innocent until proven otherwise.”
“She is not innocent,” Detective Carter growled.
“Then arrest me.” Lara jutted out her chin.
“We are not arresting you, Mrs. Angelov, we are merely trying to discover the truth,” Cassius replied, setting down the photographs.
“I told you the truth.”
“You told me that your fiancé tripped and fell out a window.” Cassius’ eyes narrowed, a slight crinkling around his eyes, which Lara would have missed, had she not been staring at him. “Did you try to help him?”
“He had passed away by the time I made it downstairs.” Lara gestured at the gruesome picture on the top of the stack, which showed two white fence posts protruding from James' chest.
“And before he fell?” Detective Carter banged his fist on the table. Lara gasped and whipped toward his purpled face. “Why did you not assist him then?”
“I was halfway across the attic and carrying another box.”
“What was your reaction when you realized what happened?” Cassius asked, his voice soft.
“I screamed.” Lara glanced over as he pushed the second cup of coffee toward her.
“And then?” Cassius gestured at the cup.
“I went downstairs to check on him.” Lara lifted the cup, her eyes on the steam drifting up from the black liquid. Damn him, no cream or sugar; Detective Carter was a monster. She glowered at his smirk and took a sip, keeping the grimace from her face as she set down the cup.
“Immediately?” Cassius asked, his voice slicing through her disgust.
“I don’t understand your question.”
“When James fell, you were holding a box, what happened to the box?”
“I dropped it.” Lara chewed on her lower lip. Lifting the cup, she sipped the bitter coffee again, her mind racing over her memory of the attic. Was there a box close enough to the ladder to make her story plausible?
“Did you run straight downstairs or did you go to the window?” Cassius asked, his face unreadable.
“I went to the window.” She set down the cup with a definitive thunk. The witnesses would confirm they’d seen her face at the window, too bad they couldn’t see Milo too...
“Why?” Detective Carter’s low growl sent a shiver down Lara’s spine. They didn’t believe her.
“When he fell through the glass, my first thought was that he had landed on the roof. I hoped I’d be strong enough to drag him back into the attic.”