Still, I understood that my father had only really been allowed to be a dad in the last four years, and he wasn’t ready to give it up. Gideon, however, was jockeying for a position I was no longer prepared to give him.
But he was wearing the ring I’d given him. I tried not to read anything into it, but I wanted to hope. I wanted to believe.
We’d all finished the main course and I was pushing to my feet to clear the table for dessert when the intercom buzzed. I answered.
“Eva? NYPD detectives Graves and Michna are here,” the gal at the front desk said.
I glanced at Cary, wondering if the detectives had found out who’d attacked him. I gave the go-ahead for them to come up and hurried back to the dining table.
Cary looked at me with raised brows, curious.
“It’s the detectives,” I explained. “Maybe they have news.”
My dad’s focus immediately shifted. Honed. “I’ll let them in.”
Ireland helped me clear up. We’d just dumped the cups into the sink when the doorbell rang. I wiped my hands with a dish towel and went out to the living room.
The two detectives who entered weren’t the ones I expected, because they weren’t the ones who’d questioned Cary at the hospital on Monday.
Gideon appeared out of the hallway, shoving his phone into his pocket.
I wondered who’d been calling him all night.
“Eva Tramell,” the female detective said, stepping deeper into my apartment. She was a thin woman with a severe face and sharply intelligent blue eyes, which were her best feature. Her hair was brown and curly, her face clean of makeup. She wore slacks over dark flats, a poplin shirt, and a lightweight jacket that didn’t hide the badge and gun clipped to her belt. “I’m Detective Shelley Graves of the NYPD. This is my partner Detective Richard Michna. We’re sorry to disturb you on a Friday night.”
Michna was older, taller, and portly. His hair was graying at the temples and receding at the top, but he had a strong face and dark eyes that raked the room while Graves focused on me.
“Hello,” I greeted them.
My father shut the door, and something about the way he moved or carried himself caught Michna’s attention. “You on the job?”
“In California,” my dad confirmed. “I’m visiting Eva, my daughter. What’s this about?”
“We’d just like to ask you a few questions, Miss Tramell,” Graves said. She looked at Gideon. “And you, too, Mr. Cross.”
“Does this have something to do with the attack on Cary?” I asked.
She glanced at him. “Why don’t we sit down.”
We all moved into the living room, but only Ireland and I ended up taking a seat. Everyone else remained on their feet, with my dad pushing Cary’s wheelchair.
“Nice place you’ve got here,” Michna said.
“Thank you.” I looked at Cary, wondering what the hell was going on.
“How long are you in town?” the detective asked my dad.
“Just for the weekend.”
Graves smiled at me. “You go out to California a lot to see your dad?”
“I just moved from there a couple months ago.”
“I went to Disneyland once when I was a kid,” she said. “That was a while ago, obviously. I’ve been meaning to get back out there.”
I frowned, not understanding why we were making small talk.
“We just need to ask you a couple of questions,” Michna said, pulling a notepad out of the interior pocket of his jacket. “We don’t want to hold you up any longer than we have to.”
Graves nodded, her eyes still on me. “Can you tell us if you’re familiar with a man named Nathan Barker, Miss Tramell?”
The room spun. Cary cursed and pushed unsteadily to his feet, taking the few steps to reach the seat beside me. He caught up my hand.
“Miss Tramell?” Graves took a seat on the other end of the sectional.
“He’s her former stepbrother,” Cary snapped. “What’s this about?”
“When’s the last time you saw Barker?” Michna asked.
In a courtroom . . . I tried to swallow, but my mouth was dry as sawdust. “Eight years ago,” I said hoarsely.
“Did you know he was here in New York?”
Oh God. I shook my head violently.
“Where’s this going?” my dad asked.
I looked helplessly at Cary, then at Gideon. My dad didn’t know about Nathan. I didn’t want him to know.
Cary squeezed my hand. Gideon wouldn’t even look at me.
“Mr. Cross,” Graves said. “What about you?”
“What about me?”
“Do you know Nathan Barker?”
My eyes pleaded with Gideon not to say anything in front of my dad, but he never once glanced my way.
“You wouldn’t be asking that question,” he answered, “if you didn’t already know the answer.”
My stomach dropped. A violent shiver moved through me. Still, Gideon wouldn’t look at me. My brain was trying to process what was happening . . . what it meant . . . what was going on . . .
“Is there a point to these questions?” my father asked.
The blood was roaring in my ears. My heart was pounding with something like terror. The mere thought of Nathan being so close was enough to send me into a panic. I was panting. The room was swimming before my eyes. I thought I might pass out.
Graves was watching me like a hawk. “Can you just tell us where you were yesterday, Miss Tramell?”
“Where I was?” I repeated. “Yesterday?”
“Don’t answer that,” my dad ordered. “This interview isn’t going any further until we know what this is about.”
Michna nodded, as if he’d expected the interruption. “Nathan Barker was found dead this morning.”
Chapter 16
As soon as Detective Michna finished his sentence, my dad cut the questioning off. “We’re done here,” he said grimly. “If you have any further questions, you can make an appointment for my daughter to come in with counsel.”
“How about you, Mr. Cross?” Michna’s gaze moved to Gideon. “Would you mind telling us where you were yesterday?”
Gideon moved from his position behind the couch. “Why don’t we talk while I show you out?”
I stared at him, but he still wouldn’t look at me.
What else didn’t he want me to know? How much was he hiding from me?
Ireland’s fingers threaded with mine. Cary sat on one side of me and Ireland on the other, while the man I loved stood several feet away and hadn’t glanced at me in almost half an hour. I felt like a cold rock had settled in my gut.
The detectives took down my phone numbers, then left with Gideon. I watched the three of them walk out, saw my dad eyeing Gideon with a hard speculative look.
“Maybe he was buying you an engagement ring,” Ireland whispered. “And he doesn’t want to blow the surprise.”
I squeezed her hand for being sweet and thinking so highly of her brother. I hoped he never let her down or disillusioned her. The way I was now disillusioned. Gideon and I were nothing—we had nothing together—if he couldn’t be honest with me.