“I wondered if you could recount the last time you saw him. Maybe it would help us narrow the timeline down so we could figure out when he actually left town.”
A knock sounded in the small interrogation room. A short, sharp, brisk tap. The person behind the door didn’t wait for the officer to call out to open it.
Rachel’s stern features made an appearance, and I jerked back in surprise. “Rach? What are you doing here?”
“Ms. Laker?” the officer intoned, his surprise clear too. Well, that and there was some displeasure thrown into the mix.
I almost snorted.
This clearly wasn’t the first time he’d had a run-in with Rachel.
No man survived those without coming out with claw marks.
“I don’t appreciate you arranging interviews with my clients without allowing time for her counsel to show up.”
“She doesn’t need a lawyer. This is an informal chat.”
“Then why aren’t you in her tattoo shop? Why have you invited her into the precinct?”
Officer Lewiston pursed his lips. “For privacy.”
“Why is privacy required? This is most irregular. Are you recording this interview? Is there someone behind the glass?” She tapped the mirror before she stepped over to the table and placed her briefcase on it. “I only know Ms. Sisson is here because her partner contacted me.”
Cruz had phoned Rachel?
My brow furrowed in confusion but I kept my trap shut.
Clearly, something was happening that Cruz hadn’t shared with me.
Pissed, I watched as Rachel ran circles around Lewiston whose cheeks burned brighter than the sun with every sniped comment she made.
“She doesn’t need a lawyer," he insisted again. “I just wanted to ask her if she’d remembered any details.”
“I think this is turning into harassment,” Rachel tossed down. “How many times have you spoken with Officer Lewiston, Indiana?”
“Five times. This is the sixth.”
Her face puckered with disapproval. Seriously, it looked like she’d deepthroated a lime. “If the information didn’t help those initial times, what did you hope to discover on this occasion?”
“A man’s missing, Ms. Laker. Did you forget that?”
“I didn’t. But we don’t even know if he is missing. Did you forget that my client has no knowledge as to where her receptionist has gone? She isn’t to blame for him deciding to take off to only God knows where and to not key his family into his travel plans. If anything, she’s a man down at her tattoo shop.”
“I never said she was to blame,” he retorted sullenly.
“Then why harass her?”
“I’m not,” he ground out.
“The next time you wish to speak with Ms. Sisson, I will be there to ensure that nothing improper occurs.”
“Improper? What the hell are you insinuating?”
“I’m insinuating nothing,” Rachel intoned before she grabbed my arm and said, “Come, Indiana.”
As she hauled me onto my feet, I winced as my ass protested the scrape of denim against it, but I followed her when she told me to.
Rachel wasn’t the kind of woman you said no to.
Especially not in a police station.
As we made it outside, I shot an apologetic wave to Lewiston, who looked as perplexed as I felt, then, when we were beyond the doors to the station, asked, “Cruz sent you?”
“You should have called me,” Rachel reprimanded.
“I didn’t think I needed to.”
“You always need a lawyer there when the cops call you in.”
“Doesn’t it make me look guilty? That I need you, I mean?”
“That’s a ploy of theirs,” she scoffed. “To pressure you into speaking without counsel present. Don’t do it again.”
I took orders off Cruz, but that was consensual. This didn’t feel very consensual.
Still, it was free with the MC footing her bill, and I hadn’t liked how Lewiston waltzed into Indiana Ink asking for a moment of my time. I charged two hundred bucks an hour. My time wasn’t free.
“Is there a problem?” I asked softly when I realized Rachel was returning to her car.
“Aside from the fact that David’s missing and his family has sent in a private investigator to find out where he is?”
“Yeah, aside from that?”
We shared a look that told me she’d discerned where David really was—in a bottle of Cruz's homemade soup.
“No. You haven’t done anything wrong. We just need to make sure the cops remember that.”
“There’s no trail,” I whispered.
“No body, no crime either,” she whispered back, but her eyes were cold.
Damn, she was always cold.
I’d forever wondered if she was this frigid in every aspect of her life, but Rain was a good kid, a warm one.
When I hung out with Giulia at Rach’s place, I’d heard Rain joking around with her even if I hadn’t heard Rachel’s responses, so I knew she wasn’t always like an iceberg. Just with certain people.
That saddened me.
She wasn’t born into the life, but she’d been around long enough that she might as well have been.
We could have been friends, but we weren’t. She’d hung around with older kids like my sister even though there’d been a five-year age gap between them.
Reaching up, I tugged on my lip and asked, “Everything okay, Rach?”
“Why wouldn’t it be?”
She didn’t let me answer, just slipped into her car when her driver opened the door for her, and I watched as he drove her to whatever hellhole she’d been existing in lately.
“Because you look like you haven’t slept in a month,” I said to no one, uncaring that I was talking to myself.
Huddling into my coat, I watched her taillights disappear then crossed the road to return to my tattoo shop.
The heat blasted me the second I was inside, making my cheeks burn and my hands itch from the temperature difference. I shuddered as I stomped my feet to get rid of some of the snow from my boots.
“How’d it go?”
I peered at Giulia then glanced around, surprised to realize Cruz was nowhere to be found. Behind her, I saw the news drift from a report on a hockey player who’d been kidnapped and onto that piece of shit rapist who was preying on women in Harlem.
"Cruz got called to the clubhouse," Giulia answered before I could ask, switching off the TV with a click of the remote. "And he was wicked pissed about having to go. What happened at the precinct?"
Warmth filled me at the news of Cruz's irritation.
God, I adored how much he loved me.
Dragging my scarf and coat off, I muttered, “Rachel stormed in like Ally McBeal.”
Giulia pursed her lips at that. “Do you think she’s looking sick?”
“More like tired. She looks like she ain’t slept for a month.”
“She has killer nightmares.” Her gaze welded itself to mine. “I hear her screaming some nights, despite her being at the other end of that massive house.”
I scowled “Screaming?”
“Yeah. Like she’s being attacked. Asked Nyx about it the other day. He didn’t have much to say about it.”