Page 99 of Wicked Truths
He leans forward, his chair creaking. “Do you have any enemies, Miss Bailey? Anyone who might want to harm you?”
I laugh, the sound hollow and bitter. “How would I know that? I barely know who I am.”
Detective Miles sighs heavily before turning his attention to Milly. “Do you know what happened between your sister and Mateo Conti?”
Milly’s hand tightens around mine. I watch her throat work as she swallows, her eyes darting briefly to Dom before returning to the detective. “No.”
Something about her response feels off, but I can’t pinpoint why.
“Miss Bailey,” Detective Miles turns back to me, “do you have a boyfriend?”
“I doubt it,” I respond, glancing around the room. “Otherwise, he’d be here.”
My eyes catch Caleb’s for a moment. Something flickers across his face—pain? Guilt? I can’t read him.
The detective nods slowly, scribbling something in his notebook.
The second detective suddenly speaks up. “We’ve received information from an anonymous tip that you’re a call girl.”
“I’m a what?” I yell, jumping to my feet. The room spins momentarily, and I have to grab the arm of the sofa to steady myself.
Mom leaps up, her face flushed with rage. “My daughter doesn’t need to sell her body! Her stepfather gives her a very healthy allowance.”
“We need to investigate every tip-off,” the detective continues calmly. “She may have had a disgruntled client who wants her dead. Maybe she sold herself inside the club.”
“Oh my God.” My heart pounds against my ribs so hard I wonder if everyone can hear it.
Acall girl? Me?
I look around at the faces watching me. From Dom’s controlled anger to Caleb’s blank expression, and Milly’s concern, to my mother’s outrage.
Are they protecting me or hiding something from me?
I wish I could remember more. I really do. The frustration builds inside me like a pressure cooker about to burst. But I can’t stop the tears from welling up and before I know it, they spill over and I can’t stop them.
I press my hand against my breastbone. My chest feels tight, like an iron band wraps around it and keeps squeezing tighter.
“I wish I could remember. I know I have to remember,” I choke out, wiping uselessly at my wet cheeks.
Detective Miles sighs, lifting his water glass to his lips and taking a slow sip, his eyes never leaving mine. “Try to remember anything at all,” he says, setting the glass down carefully. “And do you remember if Dom was there that night?”
I shake my head, wincing at the sudden throb of pain behind my temples.
“He was,” my mother interjects sharply. “He had a business meeting and his son was kidnapped on the same day.”
Dom’s head snaps toward her, his blue eyes narrowing. “What has this got to do with me?”
“We’ll work that out,” Detective Miles says coolly. “Because someone wants you dead, Miss Bailey, and the sooner we find out who, the better it’ll be for you.”
“That person wasn’t me,” Dom growls.
My heart races, pounding so hard against my ribs I feel like it might burst through. Each beat sends a rush of blood to my ears, drowning out the voices around me.
The room suddenly feels too small, the air too thin.
I close my eyes and then a scent hits me—salt water and something copper...metallic.Blood. The smell of the ocean and my blood.
What does that mean?
