All I needed was someone to listen to my side of the story. This whole thing was just a massive misunderstanding, and I was more than ready to clear the air.
So there I was, all alone and clueless about the time, with my hands cuffed and butt glued to a chair in this ice-cold, concreteroom. Had someone played a practical joke on me but forgotten to tell me the punchline?
I knew the drill with these interrogation rooms - they wanted to mess with your head and make you feel uneasy. But the longer I sat there, waiting for someone to take my statement or ask me questions, the more irritated I became.
Finally, a stocky guy in a not-so-flattering suit walked in. I was tempted to request a lawyer to give them a taste of their own medicine for keeping me waiting, but I held my tongue. When he offered to remove the cuffs, I simply extended my wrists and waited for him to say something more.
“Where were you last night? Specifically, what time did you leave your office, and where did you go after that?” he asked.
Well, crap. I genuinely hoped Rylee wouldn’t be mad at me, but I wasn’t going to lie to the cops. Not when it was going to be a ‘he said / she said’ situation and honesty was crucial.
“Yeah, I walked out of the office around 7:45 last night and I went to Palmer Money Management. Rolled up to the place around 8:10 or so.”
“So, what was the deal with your visit?”
“We had some unfinished business about a shared project,” I told him. “The place was locked up tighter than a bank vault, but I sweet-talked the security guard into letting me in.”
“Just like that, he let you stroll right in?” The detective sounded intrigued, not suspicious.
“Well, I might have sweetened the deal with a fifty-spot,” I confessed with a smirk. “Rylee and I had a little tiff that morning about the project, and I wanted to make nice. So, he buzzed mein, and I headed up to Rylee’s office.” I considered how much to reveal and decided honesty was the way to go without getting too detailed. “One thing led to another, and I trailed her home around eleven. I stuck around until about 2:30 in the morning, then drove back to my pad and crashed. I slept alone until my alarm went off at 5:30. I rolled into work by 6:30.” I took a breath before adding, “And, well, you guys know the rest of the story.”
“And Ms. Palmer will back up your story?” the detective inquired.
I was hoping Rylee’s story jived with mine because I was telling it straight. I rubbed the back of my neck, feeling the knots there. “You can check the security footage in my building to see when I swung by and took off. The GPS in my car and the location data on my phone should seal the deal, too. But hey, I’m not here to tell you how to do your job.”
The detective gave me a long, hard stare before hauling himself up from his chair and tossing an envelope onto the desk. “Ms. Palmer’s already talked and corroborated your story. We’ll double-check everything just to ensure it’s all on the up and up, but for now, you’re free to hit the road.”
I figured I’d be doing a happy dance once I was back on my feet, but instead, I just felt a slow burn of frustration. I really hoped Becky would get her comeuppance for her little stunt. It wasn’t just about the headache it gave me, but all the time that could’ve been spent chasing down actual bad guys.
With my stuff back in my hands, I followed the detective, making our way out of the room and down the hall toward the lobby. I figured I’d either have to flag down a cab or wait for Fury to appear. But as luck would have it, there was Rylee, looking allanxious and worried, pacing back and forth in the lobby like a caged animal. As soon as she caught sight of me, relief washed over her face, and she practically sprinted towards me.
“I was terrified you’d pull that dumb noble crap and not tell them you were with me because you thought I’d be embarrassed or something,” she rambled, the words tumbling out of her mouth like a waterfall.
I didn’t let her finish; instead, I pulled her into a hug, effectively silencing her. She melted into me, her arms snaking around my waist.
“I was so worried about you,” she murmured into my chest.
“I’m alright,” I reassured her, planting a kiss on her head. I didn’t give a hoot about who might be watching or what they might think. “Can we get the heck out of here?”
“So, where to now?” she asked, pulling back from our hug.
Leaving the police station, I half-expected a swarm of journalists with cameras, but the place was deserted. “Hmm, no reporters.”
“Fury must’ve pulled some strings and sent the vultures on a wild goose chase,” she chuckled, although I could still see the worry etched in her eyes.
It struck me then how much she’d been fretting over me. And as much as I hated causing her distress, a tiny part of me was thrilled. It meant she cared, really cared, and that was something.
Yeah, I was a jerk for thinking that way.
“Back to the office?” she queried as we slid into her car.
I shook my head. “Home. I’m not up for the whole ‘what happened’ interrogation.” Or the pitying looks, but I kept that to myself. She shot me a glance that told me she’d caught my drift.
We drove in silence until she pulled into my parking spot.
“Listen, would you come up? I think it’s high time we discussed this thing. We’ve danced around it long enough,” I said.
She offered me a gentle smile. “I’d love to, but only if you’re feeling up to it.”
