Controversy (12 page)

“Just answer the question,” Martinez directed.

“Yes,” Michael nearly spat. “I am a regular there.”

“When was the last time you were there?”

“Four days ago.”

“What were you doing there?”

“Celebrating my divorce. I've already told this to Detective Griffin and his previous partner.”

“You mean Detective Dekker. Your current lover?”

Okay, now Michael wanted to scratch this bitch's eyes out. “That is correct.” Michael straightened her spine.

“Right,” Martinez said. “When you were out celebrating, did you tell everyone who would listen that you wanted to kill your ex-husband?”

Michael didn't immediately answer. She just glared at the evil woman. She just wanted five minutes with the chick in a dark alley. “I don't recall.”

Now Billingsley shifted his heavy weight in his chair. “I'm sorry, but we're going have to end this interview right now.”

“But we're just getting started,” Martinez said.

“My client has nothing further to say.”

Why hadn't he stopped the interview ten minutes ago?

Billingsley pushed himself up out of the chair. “Ms. Adams.” His tone told her to get up, as well.

The man didn't have to tell her twice. Michael shot out of her seat like lightning.

Griffin leaned over the table and shut off the recorder. “Ms. Adams, we're going to have to ask you not to make any trips out of town. At least not until this matter is resolved.”

Michael gave a faint nod and then followed her attorney out of the interrogation room where the air conditioner sent her a welcoming cool breeze.

As she walked through the precinct, it felt as if every eye was trained on her. One set in particular caught her attention. Glancing across the room, her gaze found Kyson's.

Their eyes locked for an instant. She couldn't tell whether the stony look was hate, disappointment or even regret. It didn't matter; it broke her heart just the same.

Lifting her chin, Michael turned away and with as much dignity as she could muster walked out.

K
yson didn't like being made a fool. As he packed up the few belongings he kept in his desk, he kept going over the information Captain Harris gave him. What were the odds of Michael's ex-husband's body being discovered at the same location she had supposedly broken down? It had to be something like a million to one.

Had she just dumped the body when he'd come upon her? He thought for a moment. Surely dumping a dead man's body wasn't something that she could have done alone.

What about those so-called kidnappers?

Kidnappers or cohorts?

Sisters?

No. Couldn't have been them. They were still at the restaurant when he left. Then again, maybe they didn't dump the body last night. It could have been any time during the four days Matthews had been missing.

Was last night a complete sham? Had she made up the whole story about breaking down and someone trying to kidnap her? Now, in the light of day, it all seemed not only impossible, but unlikely. He'd walked right into her trap. Hadn't he?

He weighed that for a moment. Maybe that part truly had been a coincidence. Maybe she was just looking for anyone to be an alibi—not a cop.

Kyson nodded. That made sense. Flagging down a cop had thrown a monkey wrench into her plans. That answered the question why she hadn't wanted to file a report. The more he thought about it, the angrier he became. It wasn't often someone pulled the wool over his eyes. Perhaps if he'd been thinking with the right head last night, he would've seen through her shenanigans.

“Tough break, buddy,” Griffin said, strolling up to Kyson's desk.

“Yeah,” Kyson said, avoiding his ex-partner's gaze and slamming his top drawer shut.

Griffin sucked in a breath and rocked on his heels. “I tried to warn you she was a few cookies short of a dozen, didn't I?”

“Is that why you came over here? To tell me that you told me so?”

“Well, I did tell you so.”

“I'm out of here,” Kyson said, grabbing his small box of belongings.

“Whoa. Calm down. I'm sure the captain'll see the error of his ways. You'll be back on the job before you know it.” Griff shrugged. “He's just blowing off steam. You know how he is.”

“Sure. Whatever.”

“He ripped you a new one, huh?”

“Something like that.” Kyson turned away. “Take it easy, buddy,” he said over his shoulder and gave a departing wave. He marched out of the precinct, avoiding eye contact. He knew without a doubt he would be the talk around the bar with the boys in blue. No need to give them more to laugh and gossip about.

Still, by the time he'd made it out to his car, he was certain he could chew through a box of nails. He needed answers and there was only one place to get them.

 

Michael marched into her house, throwing her keys on the foyer table and kicking her shoes clear into the living room. It wasn't enough to abate her anger. She was in serious trouble. This was nothing like the past, when she'd have overnight stints in jail for a minor misdemeanor. This was the big time.

She'd lied to the police. And there was a hundred percent chance she was going to get caught in that lie. But what could she do? Tell the truth and she would be hauled off to jail so fast her head would have spun. And not just her. Her foolish actions put her sisters at risk.

After all, hadn't Sheldon lied to the police, as well? And didn't Mike convince them to help put Phil into the trunk of her car and drive him across town? And what about Peyton? Michael had convinced her not to call the police—an accessory after the fact. The last thing she wanted was for P.J. to deliver her baby in jail. All in all, none of this sounded like the behavior of innocent women.

Oh what a tangled web we weave when first we practice to deceive.

“God, if you can get me out of this one, I swear from now on I'll be a good girl from here on out,” she vowed, staring up at the ceiling.

BAM! BAM! BAM!

Michael nearly jumped ten feet since she was standing next to the door. Had they decided to come back and arrest her already? She hesitated, took a deep breath, and then wrenched open the door. This time there weren't two cops on the other side. Just one.

The one she didn't want to see.

“Kyson,” she said thickly.

If looks could kill, Michael would have been lying next to Phil in the morgue. “What are you doing here?” she asked.

“Surely you jest,” he said, storming through the door without an invitation.

“I didn't say you could come in,” she snapped.

“Sure you did. I heard you,” he said, unfazed, cutting her a look that belied his words.

“Fine,” she said, slamming the door behind him and then crossing her arms. “What do you want?”

“The truth,” he said. “What else?” He turned away from her and stormed into the living room.

Michael took up the rear. “Hey! Where do you think you're going?”

“Going in to take a seat. You just offered me a seat, didn't you?”

“No. I didn't,” she seethed. “Come back here,” she barked. However, her words had no effect.

Kyson kept walking. He was heading for the basement door.

Michael panicked and raced around him to block his path. “I don't know what the hell you think you're doing,” she snapped. “But you have exactly one minute to get out of here before I call the cops.”

He cocked his head.

Oh, he was the police, she remembered.

How in the hell could she possibly forget? Reaching down, Michael turned the skeleton key jutting from the door, locking it. She then removed the key and dramatically slipped it into her bra.

Kyson's eyes followed the key's disappearance.

“Surely you don't think I won't go in after that.”

“You wouldn't dare,” she challenged.

“Wouldn't I?” His lips curled. “We're already familiar with each other in that area.” He stepped forward. Just like that, the electricity that had always existed between them leaped off of him. “As a matter of fact, I don't think we finished where we left off this morning.”

“Oh, we're definitely finished,” she said.

Kyson lifted a lone brow that could have meant amusement, as well as curiosity. “So you're saying that I've served my purpose? Is that it?”

Michael frowned, unsure exactly what he meant. “C'mon, you know last night was just a…thing. Hell, we hardly know each other.”

“You certainly got that right.” He glared. “I thought I was making love to—”

“Making love?” she questioned.

Having sex is what he should have said, but it was too late.

Michael shook her head. “Look, I don't know what you thought but…well, you know, I'm just coming off a divorce and now he's—”

“Save it,” he cut in. “I'm not interested. I used you and you used me. We both got what we wanted last night, right? Just a few hours of mind-blowing sex.”

“Mind-blowing,” she echoed.

Kyson rolled his eyes. “Look, I didn't come over here to stroke your ego. I came here to get answers. Answers I think I'm entitled to.”

“Look, I've already made my statement at the station. I have nothing further to add.”

“What are you hiding downstairs?”

A chair. Rope. Duct tape. “Nothing,” she lied.

“I didn't check it out for you last night. Maybe I should see if your so-called kidnappers are down there.”

“That's not necessary.”

“Uh-huh,” he said, unconvinced. “Tell me, how's the rat problem coming along?”

Michael could feel the color drain from her face. “I'm handling it.”

Kyson stared her down. In that instant he wanted to throttle her. How could he have been so blind? Sure, he thought she was a little eccentric, but a murderer? Was it truly possible?

“Last night, did you dump your ex-husband's body on Pacheco Pass?”

“Of course not!” Michael stomped her foot in indignation. “Now get the hell out of my house,” she shouted.

“Why did you slash your tire last night?”

“What?”

“I saw that tire. That was no ordinary flat. Someone slashed the tire. I think it was you.”

“And I think you've lost your mind.”

“No. I finally found it. Granted, I was a little distracted last night.” His eyes raked over her curvy figure. “I've got to hand it to you, that ripping-off-your-blouse thing was a good move. A damn good move. You needed me here as an alibi. But it's not going to work. Coroner says Matthews was killed at least seventy-two hours ago. Your plan has been shot to hell.”

Michael had had enough. “Look, Detective Dekker. I'll say it one more time—I had nothing to do with my ex-husband's murder.”

On cue, the phone rang.

She glanced across the room to stare at the cordless by the sofa. She thought about answering it, but she didn't want to move away from the door. What if Kyson busted it down?

“Don't you think you should answer that?” Kyson asked after the second ring.

She held up her chin, uncertain of what to do.

Finally, the answering machine picked up. When she heard the voice coming on the machine, she almost fainted.

“Mikey, hey! It's your buddy, Ray Damon…”

M
ichael nearly broke her neck racing to the phone. Never before had her living room seemed so wide or her limbs so heavy. By some miracle, she reached the answering machine before Ray Damon said anything that would implicate her in a possible murder.

“Hello, Ray!” she panted. “Hey! How are you?” She glanced over her shoulder to see Kyson staring at her as if she'd lost her mind.

“Mikey! Damn, girl. Scott and I have been glued to the news all morning. I can't believe it. You actually went through with it,” he said, incredulous.

“What?” She swallowed, but the lump in her throat refused to budge. She tried to think while flashing an awkward smile at Kyson. “Um, I think there's been some kind misunderstanding,” she said. Her eyes remained trained on the cop standing in her living room.

There was no doubt about it. Kyson had stopped being her one-night lover and transformed into a straightforward, no-nonsense police officer who, in all likelihood, would haul her butt into jail if given the chance.

“Man, Mike,” Ray drawled. “I don't know about this.” A note of worry seeped into his gruff voice. “When Scott and I agreed to help you out, we thought you were just going to scare the guy, you know. We never thought that you'd actually…
kill
him.”

Michael closed her eyes and prayed for patience. Why did everyone think that she was capable of murder?

“But, um, Mikey. Me and my brother ain't cut out for this. Scottie already has a couple of strikes against him.”

Why didn't they think about that before they kidnapped someone?

“I gotta tell ya,” he continued. “You got us over here sweating bullets.”

Try having a cop staring you in the face!

“Important call?” Kyson asked, moving toward her.

Michael stepped back and tried to unwedge the lump in her throat a second time. “Ray, now is sort of a bad time for me. Can I call you back?” She hoped he'd take the hint.

“No. No. Now is a good time,” he insisted. “We need to talk.” He paused for a long exhalation. “What if the cops start snooping around and put two and two together? If you get caught then we get caught and that's just not cool.”

Kyson took another step forward and Michael took another one back.

“There's bound to be fingerprints or something in that place. Scott and I weren't exactly careful that night. We had been drinking.”

“You don't say,” she responded drily.

“We need to get together so we all have our stories straight before the cops start popping up.”

Too late, Michael thought. “Ray, really, this is not a good time.” She searched around and found a pen. “Give me your number and I'll call you back.”

“Mikey—”

“Ray,” she cut him off. “I have company at the moment.”

That shut him up for a moment. “You mean…?”

“Yes.”

“Aw, man. Aw, man,” he repeated, working himself up into a frenzy.

She waited for him to calm down while Kyson stalked her in a circle around the living room.

“All right,” Ray said, finally pulling himself together. “I have one of those prepay cell phones, call me back on this number…”

Michael nodded and then proceeded to jot down the number across the palm of her hand. “Got it,” she said and then quickly disconnected the call.

Kyson's stony expression remained in full effect. “Boy, you really have got men coming out of the woodwork.”

Despite the somber look, Michael would have sworn she heard a note of jealousy. “Look,
Detective
Dekker, I've said all I have to say. Now I want you to leave.”

Kyson leveled her with another long, hard stare. This time when he approached her, she held her ground. However, as he drew near, the molecules in the air shifted or changed. She suddenly felt light-headed and weak-kneed. What was it about this man that made her body commit mutiny against logic?

“I'll go,” he said. “But now that you've dragged me into this mess, you better believe I'll be back.” He stopped moving once his chest brushed against her heavy breasts.

When he looked down, Michael wondered whether he was considering reaching in for that damn key. She then wondered whether she had the strength or the desire to stop him.

Insanely, she craved his touch.

His caress.

His taste.

Had it been just this morning that they were lying in each other's arms, seemingly without a care in the world? It now felt like a lifetime ago.

What would it have been like had they met under different circumstances? Would he have stopped her on a street, in a mall or at a club? Would he have asked her for her phone number? Asked her out? What would their first date have been like?

She'd like to think they would've laughed the night away, shared stories or maybe even their dreams. One thing she was sure of, nothing would've changed in the bedroom or on top of the washing machine.

Michael finally swallowed that thick lump in her throat. She would never know how it could've been.

“I will find out what you're hiding,” Kyson promised. “And when I do, believe me, I'll take great pleasure in being the one to put you in handcuffs this time.”

She didn't mean to, but her legs had weakened a bit and she leaned into his chest. She was sure he hadn't meant for his words to be erotic, but it didn't stop the image of being handcuffed and submitting to his domination.

“Good day, Ms. Adams,” he said.

The flash of desire she'd seen disappeared and he marched out of the living room and then out of the house. But he hadn't marched out of her life.

Not just yet.

 

“We're wasting time,” the woman snapped. “Why don't we just go in there and grab her?”

“And what do you suppose we do about the cop?” the man growled back. “We have to wait for the right time.”

“We don't
have
any more time. Our bosses are breathing down our necks. We need to deliver either the cash or the prototype pronto.”

“I don't need you reminding me,” he snapped, and then returned his attention down the street to see Detective Dekker walk out of Ms. Adams's house. “Good. Look, he's leaving.”

“It's about time.” The woman fidgeted while she looked up and down the neighborhood. “I hope these neighbors aren't as nosy as the ones in Matthews's neighborhood. Those old ladies police that area like armed prison guards.” She sighed when Dekker climbed into his car. “You don't think Ms. Adams told the police about her ex-husband's illegal activities, do you?”

Her partner shrugged. “At this point anything is possible. That's why we need to be prepared.”

She nodded, thought for a second. “There's also the chance she doesn't know anything. What are we going to do then?”

“She knows something. Why else would she have kidnapped him? She has to be in the game, too.”

“But what if she doesn't know?”

He shrugged. “We'll cross that bridge when we come to it.”

“Yeah. But if she doesn't know, what's to stop her from running to the police after we interrogate her?”

He laughed. “Trust me. When we're through with her she won't be talking to anyone else—ever again.”