Oz sits in the chair opposite the couch and grabs a prawn cracker. “Just makes life easier what with the hours we work and everything.”Oz quirks a brow at me, as if daring me to judge but I think about my house and how lonely I’ve been for the past six years. The life of a cop is not an easy one and it doesn’t lend itself to having a family. “That’s kind of nice actually,” I say.
Oz cocks his head and considers me. “Yeah, it is.”
River still stands just inside the door, like he can’t decide what to do about this situation.
Jude looks up at him. “She’s got immunity Riv, we can’t treat her like a criminal.”
River runs a hand over his face and sighs. “I’ll go get Elijah.”
An hour later, mostly empty Chinese containers are scattered across the coffee table and four, far too attractive, faces are looking my way. Jude is still next to me, and Oz takes the armchair to my left. River sits with one leg crossed over the other in the armchair at the head of the room and Eli leans againstthe wall by the TV. I have no idea what his problem is, but he’d refused to sit, eat, or do anything other than glower at me.
I wipe my fingers on a piece of screwed up kitchen roll and shift further back on the soft leather couch. “So,” I say, looking at the four people who want to stop Arthur Maxwell almost as much as I do and realizing I can’t put this off any longer. “What do you want to know?”
River leans forward in his chair and links his fingers together. “Let’s start with why and how you faked your death.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
River
FREYA TENSES. PART of me regrets ruining the peace she found over dinner, but we’ve got a killer to catch and as team leader it falls on me to get answers. So I keep a stony gaze set on Freya. Ever since she had a panic attack when I said her actual name, I refuse to call her Angelica. Even in my head. It never felt right anyway. Freya is fiery. Stubborn. But there’s a softness to her underneath it all, one she’s had to bury away to survive. Angelica feels like a stranger, but I can see her remembering who she used to be. The light flickers out of her eyes and she grows distant.
“It wasn’t planned. The accident was real. I took my dad’s car. I wasn’t supposed to but… I’d made a friend. She said her name was Hannah, but I don’t think it was her real name. She was living on the streets. I tried looking for her family afterwards, but I never figured out who she was let alone how she ended up homeless.” Freya tucks her legs in tighter and the delicate lines of her neck tense as she swallows. “I was never very good at making friends. It was hard to when –” She cuts herself off.
“When what?” I press, keeping my tone detached.
Freya meets my gaze and smirks. “Serial killer dad and all that.”
I narrow my eyes. That smirk is hiding something, but I let it go for now.
Jude reaches out to tuck a curl behind Freya’s ear. My narrowed gaze shifts to him but Freya carries on.
“Hannah liked to chase highs. Not with drugs, just with life. She’d never driven before and she convinced me to bring my dad’s car one afternoon, to let her drive.” Freya runs her fingers along the scar behind her right ear. I’ve been wondering how she got it since I first noticed it when I searched her. “We crashed on a back road by the cliffs. Hannah was dead on impact. I’d seen enough dead bodies to know that straight away. And I don’t know...” Freya shrugs, a faraway look in her eyes. “I guess I saw my chance.”
Eli scoffs, disgust dragging at his face. I get where he’s coming from but right now, I want to punch him because Freya shuts down even more. Her words come without a trace of emotion, like she’s reciting a shopping list.
“I got the gas can out of the trunk and doused the car, used a lighter to set it all on fire with Hannah inside. She was about the same height and size as me, but I needed her to be unrecognizable. My dad’s phone was in the car. I used it to call a contact of his, a coroner.”
“Name,” I say, latching onto the first piece of actionable information Freya has shared. One of the reasons we’ve struggled to catch Maxwell is because we can never connect him to anyone else. We know he must have had help over the years, but we’ve never found out who.
“Chris Mackelvy.”
I look to Oz but before he can get his phone out Freya adds, “he’s dead. Two weeks after I blackmailed him into identifying Hannah’s body as mine.”
Oz taps away for a second then nods at me to confirm what she’s saying.
“A kid at school who made fake IDs got me something to use till I could find someone professional.”
“Criminal, you mean,” Eli snaps. “There’s no such thing as a professional forger.”
Freya pulls her sleeves down over her palms and eyes him. “Right, sure. Well anyway, I found someone good, and they got me set up with a new identity as Freya Danvers.”
Oz tilts his head to the side. “They’re who buried any trace of Angelica Maxwell, too aren’t they?”
“My dad was a private man so there wasn’t much to bury, but yes. They’ve kept me safe.”
Jude nudges her with his toe. “How did you afford that?”
Freya softens a bit when she turns to face him and a flash of jealousy streaks through me. Somehow, in just over a day Jude has managed to connect with her. I shouldn’t care, but I do. I want her to look at me like that.
