Page 13 of In Her Eyes
“But that’s nothing. Ava was already working with museums all over the world when she was a teenager.” There’s no stopping Lynn.
He tilts his head back and raises his brows above those mesmerizing eyes. “Is that so? You were working all over the world as a teen? Even before you got all the fancy degrees?”
His response drips with sarcasm. He may not have said it out loud, but the word liar coats everything he said.
I dig my nails into my palms and control the urge to throw something at him. Assaulting a police officer would not make a good entry on my résumé. “Yes, my grandmother worked with these same museums. I just followed in her footsteps. She paved the way for me. When she retired, it was a natural progression for me to take over since I learned everything I know from her.”
He stares me down. Glances at the computer screen and back at me. “Do you have any siblings?”
“No, I’m an only child. What does it have to do with anything?” I don’t even bother to mask the exasperation in my voice. “Oh, I get it. You think I’m impersonating someone. That I can’t possibly be the person I say I am? Why? Because I’m not dressed the same way as in those pictures?” I point at the monitor.
He turns off the recorder. The corner of his lip twitches again. Heisenjoying my irritation. Am I a joke to him? Did any of this get through to him, or is he just humoring me now?
I dig into my purse, pull out my wallet, and then my driver’s license. If it weren’t for the desk between us, I would shove it into his face. As it is, I hold my arm straight, the plastic ID a foot away from him.
He looks at my license before taking it from me, his fingertips grazing mine for the briefest of moments. My entire body goes on alert. Shivers start at the back of my hand, and like a tidal wave, run up my arm and all over my skin. I look at him, searching for a reaction. Did he feel that surge of energy, or is it one-sided? There’s a slight tremble in the hand holding my ID. But his body is completely still, as if he’s holding his breath.
I’ve felt this before—this overwhelming sense of unrest and recognition, like an old memory trying to come to the surface. It also happened the first time I crossed paths with the detective fifteen years ago. The day he rescued me and breathed life into me again.
Chapter4
Avalon
I suck in air,and his gaze lifts to mine. The jolt of electricity still dances on my skin. He looks away after a heartbeat. Did he feel that too? Or is it just me?
If the detective is aware of my inner turmoil as his fingers fly on the keyboard, he doesn’t show it.
He has the perfect poker face. He’s checking my driver’s license, but he won’t find anything nefarious. I’ve never even had a parking ticket.
He returns the license—his face is a mask. If he’s disappointed or relieved for not finding anything, I can’t tell.
His gaze lands on Lynn next.
She squirms in her seat, then squares her shoulders and raises an eyebrow. “I guess you want to check my license, too. See if I have any prior arrests? Speeding tickets? Sorry to disappoint, but you won’t find anything on me either.”
She bats her eyelashes at him in such an exaggerated way. I snort and then cough to cover it up. I didn’t fool him, though. His eyes narrow on me. Guilt prickles at my conscience, and I look away. This is no laughing matter. A girl is dead at the hands of some psycho.Maybe even more than one girl,a voice whispers in my mind. And it seems I might have the only clue to the murder.
He takes Lynn’s driver’s license and checks it on the computer. Like mine, he gets nothing. But that’s because Lynn has the incredible ability to avoid tickets with that sexy girl routine of hers, while I always follow the rules.
The detective clears his throat and returns the license to Lynn.
He taps the necklace box with his pen again. “I’ll have to keep this. We need to test it for prints and confirm with the family that this is the same necklace in the picture.”
I shrug. “I figured as much. But my prints will be on it. And possibly the store clerk, too.”
“I’ll check into the store myself.” He says this as if he doubts my account of where I got the necklace.
“Can we go now?” I may have phrased that as a question, but I wasn’t asking for his permission.
His eyes narrow. “I’ll need your phone numbers. You two need to be available for contact in case I have other questions.”
I give him a business card with my number and email on it. “My information is here.”
He takes the card, looks at it, and gives it back to me. “Write your friend’s number on it, too.”
I want to refuse, but I don’t. I write Lynn’s number on the back of the card and give it back to him. He takes it, checks the back, and sets it to the side. “Your IDs say you two live in New York. Where are you staying?”
“We have an apartment in the Seahaven building by the beach.” I exchange a look with Lynn. An entire conversation passes between us in a fraction of a second. My apology for dragging her into this mess and her seeing it as some exciting adventure.
