My eyes fell on a small ballerina figurine that was one of the few gifts my parents had ever given me. When they’d finally understood how serious I was about dance, they’d paid for my lessons but not bothered to take me.
I hadn’t cared.
I would’ve hitchhiked across town to dance, and the fact that they’d recognised that? It meant so much to me. And for them to give me a ballerina? Well, it was my most treasured belonging from them.
It normally sat beneath my TV by the remote.
Now, it stood in a perfect pirouette on my windowsill.
I froze.
Goosebumps shot down my arms.
Had Gil moved it?
Had I forgotten I did?
What the hell is going—
“Miss Moss. Is that you?” A strict voice wrenched the breath from my lungs and sent me whirling to face the door. A fist landed over my thudding heart as I tried to make sense of what I saw.
Two uniformed police stood framed in the open entrance.
Police I’d seen at Gil’s warehouse when I’d called and reported the guy with his kidnapping van.
“Wh-what are you doing here?” I asked, cursing how wavy my voice was.
The woman cop stepped into my apartment. I silently swore for leaving the door open. Her gaze skimmed over my still very green and camouflaged skin, mostly hidden beneath the thick, white robe. I’d obeyed Gil’s wishes and packed up his gear. I’d stored it in his car, told the Kohls manager Gil would be in touch with the photos and invoice, and climbed into his hatchback still fully painted.
I’d intended to drive to Gil’s place like he’d asked. I intended to shower, dress, and head downtown to where Gil had been taken.
But I’d never packed an overnight bag and left my previous outfit in the changing room. If I’d headed to Gil’s place, I would’ve ended up without clothes once I’d washed off his latest creation.
I’d only meant to pop home for five minutes.
I hadn’t expected to find the aura of evil still lurking in my safe zone. And I definitely hadn’t been prepared to find yet more police on my doorstep after watching Gil being carted away only an hour before.
It’s a busy day for them.
Appearing unannounced and ruining both our lives.
“We wanted to follow up with you about your report on the man who tried to kidnap you.”
“Oh.” I forced myself not to look at the clock with impatience. “Okay. What can I help you with?”
“The license plate number you gave us is incorrect.” The woman narrowed her eyes.
“Oh, I’m sorry. I must’ve remembered it wrong.”
“And you’re sure it was a white van with blue stripes?” The male officer came forward, encroaching on my space. “Because nothing checks out. No other reports. No suspicious sightings. It wasn’t another colour, and you remembered that wrong, too?”
Standing taller, I did my best to seem unfrazzled. My lack of lying ability almost crippled me. If I didn’t get them away soon, I’d slip. I’d stumble on a lie, and Gil would be sentenced to life because of something idiotic I said.
“No, I remember the van. But you’re right. I’m obviously not reliable in my recollections.” I crossed my arms. “Besides, you ought to know better than me. That’s your job, after all.”
The cops threw each other a glance.
The female officer sighed at my unhelpfulness. “Regardless, we believe the man who tried to abduct you might be involved with the recent murders.” She eyed up my body paint again. “They were painted...like you. We were hoping your memory might be better refreshed today. Give us new information that could aid us.”
“Better refreshed?”
“No audience, as it were.” Her gaze gleamed with an obvious hint. “Free to say what you want.”
“You think I kept things to myself because I was with Gilbert last time?”
“Speaking of Mr. Clark. Where is your boss?” the guy jumped in.
I narrowed my eyes, answering his question and ignoring the rest. “At Status Enterprises. Behind a desk.”
“Your other boss.” His voice tightened with frustration. “Gilbert Clark.”
What was the right answer here? Tell them I didn’t know or that he’d been shoved into a police car? Then again, I couldn’t exactly say I hadn’t seen him, seeing as I wore his brushstrokes. “We just finished a commission for Kohls department store. He was invited to help the police about the body paint used on the murdered girls.”
There, that sounded good and not guilty at all.
“Do you believe he could be involved?” The woman walked around me, her eyes never still as she took in my messy apartment.
“No.”
“How can you be so sure?” She circled me again, her buttons flashing on her uniform. “He’s a body painter—same as the murderer. He has no alibi for the days the girls went missing.”
I scowled. “How do you know he has no alibi?”
“We can’t disclose that information, miss,” the male cop muttered. “What we are interested in is your opinion. Can you shed any light on Mr. Clark’s recent whereabouts? Did he go missing for a time? Do anything out of the ordinary?”
My throat closed up.
He went missing.
He came back filthy, bloody, and speckled in paint.
He drank himself into a stupor for something he did.
My kneecaps danced with nerves as I stared him right in the eyes. “He’s my boss. What he does with his free time is none of my concern.”
The female cop smirked. “You entertain much, Olin?” She pointed at the two forks in the sink and the two glasses on the coffee table.
“None of your business.”
She smiled and didn’t reply.
I’d just walked into her trap, and I didn’t fully understand how.
“If that’s all...I really need to shower and—”
“How well do you know Gilbert Clark?” the female interrupted rudely.
I mulled over my answer. What would be better? Admit I was in love with him or lie and say our relationship was strictly professional.
My heart picked up its pace, drowning in fibs.
“Well?” She placed her hands on her hips. Somehow, I knew she waited to catch me in a lie. They’d found out where I lived without me telling them my address. They had records and ways of finding out stuff. That was their job—to uncover the truth.
Letting my arms drop, I allowed honesty to answer for me. “Gil and I go back to high-school—like I told you last time. We dated when we were younger.” Even I heard the historical pain in my voice as I added, “We broke up and went our separate ways. I found him again purely by chance, thanks to a job advertisement.” I held up my arm, revealing the green exoticness of my flesh. “A job to be a living canvas.”
“Interesting.” She nodded, her eyes gleaming. “And you can work together amicably after a teenage breakup?”
“It’s in the past. It means nothing.”
“How would you describe Gilbert Clark at school?” The man opened his notepad, a pen hovering over the pages. “Quiet? Hard-working? What was his family life like?”
Anger rose, followed swiftly by the undeniable need to protect Gil.